18. Proposal of Sorts
18
PROPOSAL OF SORTS
SOPHIE
My heart pounded like a drum in my chest when I awoke in Keaton’s warm arms.
Or was that someone actually pounding on our hotel door?
“What the hell?” Keaton growled awake, voice thick with sleep. He pulled away, his warmth leaving me in bed. He yanked on shorts and stalked to the eyepiece of the door. With brow creased, he groaned. “We’re not opening this door.”
“Why not? Who is it?” I flung back the covers. The clock on the nightstand glowed 6:00 a.m.
“Nope. Not letting this bullshit ruin our day. Back to bed,” he snapped, but I was already sliding into my dress, adrenaline surging.
“Keaton—”
“I can hear you talking,” came a familiar voice from the other side.
“Is that Melanie?” I turned the handle and Keaton sighed, stalking away.
Melanie stood there, mascara running, tears in her eyes. A complete mess. “They won’t do it,” she sobbed, voice cracking. “Vanessa says she’s done for good. Ben’s trying to coax her out, but she’s locked herself in the bridal suite and has booked a morning flight back to L.A.”
I blinked, stunned, but couldn’t blame Vanessa for her meltdown. “Seriously?”
“I promised my producers a wedding,” she sniffed, looking at me like I could pull a miracle out of my suitcase. “No wedding means no finale. No finale means my contract doesn’t get renewed with the studio.”
“Sorry about your luck. Now, if you don’t mind, we were not ready to wake up yet.” Keaton gestured for her to leave. Instead, she stepped deeper into our room, closing the door behind her. I felt a little sad for her. Last night with Keaton still smoldered beneath my skin. Facing a wrecked reality show was exactly what I didn’t need.
“Too bad there isn’t another couple to could take their place,” I said, only half joking. “That’d be a surprise no one saw coming.”
Melanie’s head shot up. Her eyes sparkled.
Oh no. That sparkle looked dangerous.
“No,” Keaton said instantly, voice like steel. “Absolutely not.”
But it was too late.
Melanie clutched my arm. “You and Keaton. You’re already here and you're both hot. The audience loves him and would love you, too. And it would be the perfect ending! The fans would get their happily ever after seeing Keaton get married.”
Keaton went rigid, eyes narrowing. He pried me free, guiding me away from Melanie’s frantic pull. “You’ve lost your damn mind.”
His fierce protectiveness warmed me, but Melanie’s words hung between us in the stale morning air.
“Can you believe her? Marry you? For TV?” he shook his head in disbelief.
Should I take offense at his question about marrying me or try to understand his problem with reality TV?
“It wouldn’t have to be real. Look, you both signed NDAs for this weekend, so I feel safe in telling you this.” Melanie pushed her glasses up her nose. “The Vanessa and Ben wedding was going to be fake. The studio needed a huge win after the flop of their last big-budget movie. So when they heard Vanessa and Ben were going to get married, they offered them a million dollar deal to do it on television. Only she wanted a wedding at home in her father’s church. His father didn’t want the cameras there. So this wedding was supposed to be fake, and then they’d marry again quietly for real back home next month.”
We both gawked at her like she’d grown two heads.
“Technically, we already are fake-dating for TV,” I pointed out to Keaton.
“What did you just say?” Melanie’s jaw dropped.
Oh no. I groaned. “Starla was pressuring Keaton to rekindle their relationship this weekend, but he didn’t want that. And because of the opportunities for Hops here, I agreed to be his date.”
“So, the two of you staged all of this? Wow, I totally bought it. You two are good together, like you belong together—married even.” How quickly she was about to turn this around.
Keaton exchanged a glance with me. I nodded, but then he said, “It may have started as an act, but I think we discovered last night there could be more between us.”
He took my hand in his and my heart burst wide open at the smoldering heat in his eyes.
“Wonderful. If you didn’t mind pretending to date, then it’s just another step to pretend to be married?—”
“I’m not going through with a fake wedding just to save your ass,” Keaton grumbled at her.
Her gaze sharpened. “Okay, but then, without a wedding, the studio pulls the plug. No show, no airing. More specifically, no Holly Creek Hops brews in the spotlight on national TV. What would that do to your plans? Hm?” She cocked her head, knowing she had us there.
All our hard work from the summer for nothing. We’d have to scramble to find another way to shine the light on his beer and gain the attention of the distributors. A thousand details flashed through my mind, trying to piece together an alternative route.
Dammit, this had been such a golden opportunity to blend his brand relaunch with this reunion wedding weekend. It was brilliant, if I say so myself. But now…
I cared about Keaton and his goals for the future. Not to mention how this campaign could help propel my career forward. A lot was at stake here.
“Keaton,” I pressed, voice low, urgent. “You’ve already kissed me like you meant it. We’ve shared an office, now a hotel room. Held hands and acted like a couple. I’ve rebranded your entire company with you.”
The tension in his jaw visible, his fingers curled into fists at his sides, like a war going on in the man’s head.
He scrubbed a hand down his face. “Sophie, it’s marriage. Feels like a line we shouldn’t cross.”
“Just for show. For a few days. Weeks, maybe. It’s not like we’re joint filing our taxes.”
Melanie cut in. “Actually, the studio wants ninety days plus three days of filming along the way to revisit the happy couple. Then you can fake a fight and break things off, pretend to divorce. The whole works. You’ll sign a contract.”
He scowled, pacing away, but I could see the wheels turning. “This is nuts. Why should we help you? We’re not obligated to do this.”
“Well then, good luck with Hops. Without this show, you’re going to need it.” She sauntered toward the door.
“Wait a minute, Melanie. Give us a moment, please.” I pulled Keaton into the bathroom and shut her out.
“We need this for Hops—” I began.
He placed his hands on my shoulders and leaned down to look me square in the eyes. “I won’t have you do this for me. I’ll find another way to reach my goals, but not like this.”
“You don’t want to marry me?” I fluttered my lashes, staring up into his blues. “Last night you wanted things to be real between us.”
“Real, yes. To date. To fuck around and see where things go. Not to get married in front of millions on TV, only to then call it off ninety days later.”
“The marriage wouldn’t be real, Keaton. But we could still date,” I pleaded. I couldn’t believe I was actually pushing for this.
Questions brewed all over his face. “Why would you even want to? A fake wedding feels so… so beneath of us.”
“And you asking me to pose as your wedding date wasn’t?”
“That was different.”
I snorted. “Not by much. Look, I want Hops to be successful and for all of your dreams to come true. That’s good enough reason for me to do this,” I assured him. “I have a lot riding on it too, you know.”
“Ah. Like your own career getting a boost from this?” Why did he say that with such venom?
My armor went back up, crossing my arms. “We both benefit, yes.”
A soft knock distracted us. “If I could just interject here?” Melanie called through the door. “The studio is offering a million dollars to split between both of you if you get married. Money sent upon the fulfillment of the ninety days when you sign the fake divorce papers. Just say yes. Fast. Because we have a lot to do today to prepare for the wedding switch tonight.”
“That’s a lot of money.” My heart raced. Not that I needed the funds. “Think of what it could do for your expansion. Think of the exposure. Your brewery would be everywhere.”
“What about you and me?” he asked, voice low. “What does that do to us , Sophie?”
I lifted my chin. “Posing as man and wife, we’ll certainly discover more about each other. We’ll learn what it’s like to be so close to someone. After it’s all over, we would either be the greatest couple to emerge from a reality show, or be too sick of each other to carry on.”
He considered me for a long moment, eyes intense. “One or both of us could walk away heartbroken, you know.”
My throat tightened. “Then we guard our hearts. Just have fun with this.”
Doubt still lingered, but then he leaned closer, his voice all gravel and heat. “If we’re going through with this, then I expect you to be my wife every second of the day… and the night. We’ll do everything a man and woman do when they have rings on their fingers. The only lie between us will be our vows.”
Heat flared through me. His smoldering promise—and the memory of last night—set my blood on fire.
“Define everything,” I whispered.
He let out a low chuckle. “Plenty of spontaneous adventures. No regrets.”
Desire coursed through my veins, especially after last night and knowing how good it was with him. Even if it was just for the brand, or the cameras—I wanted ninety days of being his.
I nodded slowly. “I’m game if you are.”
“This is what you really want?”
“Yes.” I hoped it was.
He scrubbed his beard, his eyes boring into me like he searched my soul. “Fuck it. Then marry me, Soph.”
“Get on your knees at least,” Melanie suggested from behind the door.
“It’s okay. You don’t have a ring or anything. It’s fine.” I shook it off. Was I cheating myself out of the whole experience of marrying someone for real, and all the romanticism that went with it? “I’ll marry you. For pretend. For Hops, and the show.”
“Yeah. Okay. We’ll get through it together, right?” He kissed my temple.
Keaton Kingston and I just agreed to marry in Vegas, of all places. This wasn’t a love story with a neat beginning. It started with pretending, escalated with passion, and landed somewhere between downright chaos and a studio contract.
But as I regarded him with wild attraction, from his beard, to his shirtless chest and torso, to his tattoos—I couldn’t deny the truth landing in my heart.
Fake or not, this thing between us had already taken root. It took hold of me, and I wasn’t sure I could let it go.