Chapter 25
“We should kiss,” Derek had said.
He’d been taunting her, and Lance had been watching intently. So, she stood, grabbed a handful of his T-shirt, and planted a kiss on that stupid, smirking mouth of his. She left him standing there more shocked than she was. Had she just kissed Derek Brennan?
Now, three days later, she stood in her kitchen, still shocked that she had locked lips with the Neanderthal. She was even more shocked that he had agreed to her plan. Was she happy that he had, or absolutely dumbfounded? She was fake dating Derek Brennan—the man she despised. And she had no one to blame but herself.
Forcing her attention back on the tray of nachos, she finished dumping the grated cheese and placed the sheet pan into the oven. Her eyes moved around the old craftsman home she had bought. The kitchen was possibly her favorite room.
She had renovated it because it was dated and badly laid out. But the renovation had complimented the house, not modernized it. She’d wanted white, cream, and golden wood tones. Apparently, shabby chic was her decorating style. A blend of vintage and cottage elements in soft, romantic colors and textures created an elegant, yet worn and welcoming look.
The kitchen was a chef’s dream and a baker’s fantasy, not that she knew how to cook or bake, for that matter. One day she’d take up cooking. Pigs, of course, would be flying past the window over the sink because she didn’t have a domestic bone in her body. But this gorgeous kitchen did inspire her to sign up for a couple of cooking classes. Nah, she’d just sign up for that ready- made meal delivery service.
The cabinets were painted off-white, and the butcher block countertop was stained in a honey shade. The white oversized farmhouse sink was big enough to bathe in, and the decorative copper hood vent added to the warmth she’d been going for. But the island, now that was a wow factor. It had been sourced from Jamie’s store. A large antique dresser with intricate carvings that had been stripped, repainted in rich cream milk paint, and distressed. It was topped with an expensive slab of marble in rich hues that picked up the cream of the cabinets and the honey oak of the butcher block.
She could have afforded a larger, brand-new house. It would have barely put a dent in her trust fund. But she wanted a home her nursing salary could afford. The minute she’d set foot inside this house, she knew it was home. Using the tainted trust fund money would have tainted it as well.
The cozy cottage was a far cry from the expensive opulence of the house she’d grown up in. It was truly the first place she’d felt at home. That was possibly the reason she’d changed her mind about sharing her life with someone. It wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. And it would be a lot less lonely.
However, she was still dead set against having children. In the end, everyone became their parents with their own children, subconsciously picking up traits that were taught to them. Behavioral patterns, no matter how undesirable, tended to be repeated. She wouldn’t take that risk with a child. The fact that Lance did not want children might be the most appealing thing about the man. It didn’t hurt that he was also easy to look at.
When the timer dinged, she opened the state-of-the-art oven and pulled out the pan of nachos. Her big splurge in the kitchen had been on the appliances, not that the six-burner stove ever got used. The microwave was the star of the show, and the oven was used for warming. Nachos were her only specialty.
Carefully, she transferred the contents of the sheet pan onto a large serving platter. She popped a cheese-covered tortilla chip into her mouth and picked up the platter, walking into the living room.
While the kitchen was her favorite room, the warm and welcoming living room was a close second. The walls were painted in a rich cream, and the windows were covered in white linen. Soft pastel color blankets were draped on the white couch. Blue glass vases and a mint-green antique lamp completed the look. The fireplace was the focal point of the room. The natural texture and earthy tones of the stone complemented the shabby chic aesthetic perfectly. A crackling fire added to the ambiance, and once encased in the overstuffed cushion of her sofa, she never wanted to leave.
Setting the platter on the distressed wooden coffee table, she fluffed the pillow on the floral print armchair. She added another piece of wood to the fire and replaced the wrought iron fire screen with the intricate scrollwork. Taking another nacho, she stuffed it in her mouth and headed back to the kitchen as Jamie came in through the back door. Seven p.m. on the dot. The woman had never been late a single day in her life.
“Hey Jamie, how was your day?”
“Great, I’m starving though.” Jamie slipped off her jacket and hung it on the back of one of the mismatched kitchen chairs.
“Nachos are in the living room. I just need to whip up the margaritas.” Jayna stepped behind the island and began to twist the cut-up limes over the stainless-steel juicer. She poured the juice into a blender.
“Why are you holding out on me?” Jamie pulled out a bar stool from under the island and sat down.
Jayna glanced up. “I’m not holding out on you.”
“I have to hear it from Ophelia that you’re dating Derek. I’d say that’s holding out.”
“Ophelia knows? Wow, she doesn’t miss a trick.” Jayna hid a grin as she turned to fill a large glass with ice from the fridge dispenser.
“So, it’s true then?”
“Never said that,” Jayna answered evasively as she dumped the ice into the blender .
“You also never said it wasn’t true.” Jamie persisted. “Come on, I know you’ve had a thing for him since high school.”
Jayna scoffed. “A thing that lasted all of five minutes.”
“So, you’re not dating then?”
“You’re psychic, you tell me.” She measured double the amount of Triple Sec to that of the lime juice. 3-2-1. She had the recipe memorized. Three parts tequila, two parts triple sec, one part lime juice, and a dash of agave syrup to add a little sweetness.
“You know that I can’t read people who are close to me,” Jamie huffed. “But I do know when my best friend is bullshitting me. So, spill! What’s going on?”
Jayna twisted off the cap of the tequila bottle and measured out three parts, then a fourth part. Jamie would need to sleep over. After they polished off this blender of margaritas, she’d be in no shape to drive.
“Nothing to spill.”
“Not buying it. What is going…”
Jayna switched on the blender at high speed and drowned out the rest of Jamie’s question.
Jamie reached across the counter and hit the kill switch on the blender. “WHAT. IS. GOING. ON?”
Her finger tapped the pulse button, and the blender swirled noisily again. She shot Jamie a smug smile.
Jamie’s hand shot out and yanked the plug out of the socket, her smile even more smug.
Jayna shook her head and took her time sliding a lime wedge around the rim of the two margarita glasses before dipping them in a bowl of salt. “Seriously, Jamie, you missed your calling. You should become a P.I. With your psychic abilities and that built-in bullshit detector, you’d be amazing at the job.”
Lifting the blender off the base, she filled both glasses, sliding one over in front of Jamie.
Jamie took a sip and scrunched up her nose. “Little heavy on the tequila.”
Jayna picked up her glass and wandered into the living room, plopping on the overstuffed sofa in front of the fireplace .
“Okay, okay. We’re dating,” she finally admitted when Jamie sat across from her, staring non-stop.
“I knew it!”
Jayna took a long swallow and forced herself not to grimace. This was one strong margarita.
“So, what’s it like finally dating him?” Jamie sighed over the rim. “It must be so exciting! Does your heart race every time he touches you?”
This time, she did grimace. “More like he’s completely annoying and opinionated and full of himself. I don’t know about my heart racing, but my fist does clench when I’m around him. Stopping myself from punching him in his stupid face is challenging.”
Last night, they strolled hand in hand down the sidewalk. They found a table for two at Frank’s Ice Cream Shoppe, and shared a banana split. It had been his dumb idea. He wanted a couple of selfies to share on his social media accounts. He’d shrugged out of his jacket and wrapped his arm around her shoulders as he held up his phone and snapped a couple of pics.
“Can you put the gun show away?” she’d snapped as he flexed for the next picture. “Yes, we all know that you work out. Yes, you’re good-looking. Yes, you have biceps and a sexy tattoo.”
“Thanks for noticing.” He flashed her that dimple-popping grin.
“Wasn’t noticing!”
“You were just checking me out!”
“Was not,” she huffed. “I was merely pointing out that you’re a show-off.”
“A show-off who you think is hot.” He waggled his brows.
“A show-off who I think is a conceited ape.”
“You think I’m good-looking,” he said in a sing-song voice.
She’d shoveled a big scoop of ice cream into her mouth to stop the smile that threatened to erupt. It was going to be a painfully long two weeks. Two weeks? Exactly how long did they have to pretend date for this to work? With a frown, she stared into the fire, realizing they needed to go on more dates .
Jamie cleared her throat and pulled her back to the present. Her best friend’s brows furrowed in confusion.
“We’re pretend dating, okay,” she blurted out. Jamie was like a bloodhound. This was a conversation she’d hoped to avoid. She wasn’t very proud to admit that she and Derek were pulling a con.
“Pretend dating? Why?”
She took another long swallow. Maybe this drink wasn’t strong enough, after all. Jamie was going to ask tough questions and demand honest answers. The rule for margarita night: no bullshit allowed. You spilled your guts over the salty rims, and no judgment would be served.
“Because of Lance Roman, the paramedic. He thinks I’m a serial dater, and he’s not interested in a casual relationship.”
“But you are a serial dater,” Jamie blurted out and then softened her voice. “Sorry, but you are, Jayna. You continually insist that you’re not interested in a relationship.”
“Maybe I changed my mind, okay?” she rebuffed. “But apparently, my reputation has come back to haunt me.”
Jamie pursed her lips and looked upward. “Then why are you pretending to date Derek?”
“To prove to Lance that I can do a committed relationship.”
“And Derek? Why would he go along with this?”
“So, he doesn’t get his legs broken.”
The furrow between Jamie’s brows deepened. “Did you threaten to break his legs if he didn’t go along with your plan?”
“No, not me.” Jayna laughed. “It was the father of one of his ‘two-dates max.’ Apparently, the man is well-connected with mob ties. Derek needs to start asking the last name of his potential one-night stands.”
“What about the pregnancy rumor? I heard you were pregnant, and that’s why you two are together.”
“No, of course not!” Jayna rolled her eyes. “That’s just what he told the mob Dad. He said we had to get back together because I’m pregnant. So not true!”
“Wow, Jayna.” Jamie took another sip. “You never take the easy road.”
“Never!”
Jamie stared into the crackling fire, a look of concern crossing her face. “I have a bad feeling.”
“It will be fine, Jamie.”
“You once had real feelings for Derek. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”
“I was fifteen!”
“And he broke your heart.”
Jayna let out a heavy breath. “It’s only make-believe. I know it, and he does too.”
“Just be careful. I really am getting a bad feeling.” Jamie turned those intense, all-seeing icy-blue eyes directly on her, and she shivered.
Jamie was wrong, though. There was no way she’d be hurt by Derek. Sure, in high school, she’d been over the moon for him. All the girls had. Derek had been so devastating, with thick dark hair, carelessly styled, a deep olive complexion, and those intense violet-blue eyes that were always storm-filled. He had been dangerous and callous, and she’d been drawn to him even with the knowledge that getting close to one so volatile would end badly.
And she’d been right.
He’d been her first kiss and her first heartbreak. Her only heartbreak because she’d never let anyone get that close again. So maybe it was serendipitous that the one to turn her into a serial dater would be the one to help her open her heart again. As a bonus, she could make his life a living hell while doing it.