16. Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Sixteen
Jacob
“Jacob! So lovely to see you!” Betsy calls out as Chris drags me into the kitchen. The kitchen that is the size of my entire apartment.
The granite white countertops are covered with groceries strewn about haphazardly. Some bags are still full while there are half-opened containers of fruit and blocks of cheese and crackers scattered along with bottles and jugs of wine, soda…
It’s the most beautiful chaos I’ve ever seen.
“It’s so lovely to see you, too, Mrs. Everett. Thank you so much for inviting me,” I say as she pulls me in for a hug and kisses my cheek. Her lips are wet, and I try not to cringe.
“Please, call me Betsy, sweetheart,” she says smoothly as she lets me go.
“Where’s Aaron?”
“Grabbing the luggage,” Chris says. “I was just giving Jake the tour.”
Betsy smiles brightly. “Oh, he must really like you,” she coos. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen that man fetch anyone’s luggage. Not even his own, half the time.”
I blink as Chris chuckles. “So… continuing on—”
I look at Betsy and she nods. “We’ll catch up later, hon. Don’t worry. I’ve got lots of things to discuss with you.”
Panic forms in my stomach as she winks at me. Right, of course. They want to get to know me better. Want to know who I am and why I’m supposedly in love with their son. My intentions, probably.
Or Prince Charming’s intentions. Which reminds me, Aaron and I need to hash out the details of our pseudo-relationship.
Since this is just an illusion and we’ll have to break up off camera at some point—I know that’s how this ends, because I’m only here for the week to help sell this illusion so he can get this job he so desperately wants—I don’t want to give them the impression we’re serious enough for a long-term commitment like an engagement, but I need them to think we’re serious enough that I’ll be around for a hot minute after this week, even if it’s not true.
Maybe I just moved in, and we can use that as a cover for the breakup. Claim we weren’t gelling with living together. It happens, sometimes. I’ve seen The Break Up.
I’ll ask Aaron about it later, and nod to Betsy as I follow Chris through the sweeping house. It’s gorgeous. Spacious. Modern but with bright, historic accents. It’s the perfect blend of old and new, of cozy and luxurious.
It really is like a dream come true.
“...and this is probably where you guys are staying,” he says as he opens a door. I nearly gasp at the large bedroom—all decked out in shades of blue with hints of red and white. It’s nautical, but it’s also somehow masculine and opulent in an understated, simple way.
“This is Aaron’s room.”
Of course, I assumed we’d be staying together, but there was still a part of me that wondered about the arrangements and I didn’t have the courage to ask.
But now as I look at the bedroom—or more aptly the king-sized bed in the center of the room decked out with a million throw pillows and a thick white blanket at the foot—I realize that we are not just staying in the same room.
We’re sleeping in the same bed.
Cue the one bed trope. Fuck.
My cock awakens at the thought, remembering all too well how good it felt to wake up with Aaron beside me.
It’s just a bed. A place to sleep. Nothing sexual has to happen.
After all, I did say sex was off the table.
Aaron agreed with me, and there’s no way I’m going to proposition him.
I can’t afford to, even if I wanted to. I need to treat this for what it is—a job.
A paycheck. I’m not going to fuck this up.
Sex could definitely fuck it up. Yes, it might get me a heftier tip, but it could also make things complicated, and Aaron and I don’t need to complicate matters. They are complicated enough.
We’re here for one reason, and that reason has nothing to do with sex and everything to do with getting the job he wants. It’s business, nothing more.
I need to remember that.
“Your en suite bathroom—” Chris opens the door to a bathroom that is definitely bigger than any en suite I’ve ever seen before.
The tub in the corner is huge, decked out with little fake shells and starfish and it looks like it has a million jets built in.
It looks perfect for a bubble bath, and I make a mental note to grab some bubble bath from the store.
I don’t even care if Aaron thinks it’s weird—I know most men balk at the idea of baths, especially bubble baths—as if relaxing and getting clean is a gendered thing or something, which it’s not.
Just because I have a dick doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy a little spa night for myself.
I’m going to take a bubble bath in this bitch every night if I can.
I have a lot of time to make up for, since I haven’t had a tub in years.
“Cool, thanks,” I say, feeling slightly on edge. Chris gives me a reassuring smile.
“No problem. I really appreciate you doing this, you know,” he says, running a hand through his dark hair.
“Huh?”
“I mean, I know you only did this for Bella, initially, but—”
Oh, right.
“I mean, she’s a friend. I like to help my friends.” It’s not a lie. I do consider Bella a friend and I do like helping, but I’m not sure how much Chris actually knows about our friendship.
“But you’re not here because of Bella. You’re here because of me. If I hadn’t asked Bella to contact you, you wouldn’t even be here. You and Aaron would never have even met one another.”
I nod, feeling strangely on the spot. Chris takes a step closer to me, but I don’t move. His gaze roves over me for a moment, lingering in a way that certainly isn’t polite. I tense, because I don’t need any more drama this week than I already signed up for.
I know how Bella feels about Chris. And I know Chris has refused her flirtations on multiple occasions, but I’ve always just figured it was because she was older, because he didn’t see her in a non-neighborly way.
I mean, she’s twenty years older than both of us.
Age isn’t a problem for me regarding dates or my personal life, but I know not everyone is aiming for a May-December trope in their lives. I get it.
But not once in passing, had I ever noticed Chris looking at me like he is now. I never picked up on any sort of underlying vibes that were creepy or flirty or—
I purse my lips as he leans in a fraction, sliding his hands in his pocket.
“Let’s get one thing straight here, Christopher,” I bite. “While that may be true to an extent, I’m not here for you. I’m here for Aaron. Your cousin.”
Chris nods.
“Good. Then you know how important it is that this week goes well for him.” Chris’s gaze holds mine steady as he steps closer, his voice low and deep.
I know he’s just talking like this in case someone were to come in they wouldn’t hear us, but I can’t help but feel like maybe there’s more to it.
Maybe there’s some other reason, and I don’t want to think about it.
“I do. And you would be wise to remember that as well. Since you said you wouldn’t get in the way.”
Chris grins as he steps back from me. Holding his hands up. “No problem. Just wanted to make sure we’re on the same page. Regarding Aaron, of course.”
The sound of rolling suitcases alert us both, and I turn to see Aaron in the doorway.
“There’s the man of the hour,” Chris says brightly, heading over to his cousin.
I stand still, frozen, unable to move.
I’m not entirely sure what just happened here. It kind of felt like Chris was hitting on me, but also it felt like he was threatening me. I’ve never considered the guy a friend, but I can’t deny it feels… weird.
Like, for a moment, he thought I was someone else.
“I’ll leave you two to get unpacked,” he says, leaving Aaron and I alone.
“Everything okay?” he asks.
“Peachy,” I say, shoving the weirdness aside.
He rolls my suitcases to me and drops my duffel on the bed.
“So… how do you know Chris?” he asks as he hoists his suitcase up on the bed and unzips it.
I ponder for a moment how to answer him.
“Truth?” I ask carefully. He looks up at me.
“Yeah, of course. Told you when it’s just us, you can be honest with me. If this is going to work, we need to be honest. With each other.”
I contemplate his words, hoping what I’m about to say doesn’t put a monkey wrench in this whole thing.
“His neighbor is one of my regulars.”
Aaron’s gaze softens, his expression unreadable, and for a moment I think maybe I did say the wrong thing, or I should have said it differently or—
“Man or woman?” he asks, so plainly, I almost have to ask him to repeat himself. There’s no judgment. No disgust. Just curiosity.
“Woman,” I say as I lift my suitcase onto the other side of the bed and unzip it.
“She pretty?” he asks, pulling out some shirts.
“Beautiful, actually.”
He saunters over to his dresser and opens a drawer before coming back to his suitcase.
“You… uh… have a lot of regulars?” he asks.
I shake my head. “Not really. I mean, I’ve had a few return clients, but most are one and done deals.”
Aaron catches my gaze, and immediately I realize I put my foot in my mouth. Shit.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean it like…”
“No offense taken,” he says with a shrug. “It’s your job, I get it.”
I should let it go. I really should, but it’s the way he says the words, with an air of hurt, that makes me feel like I can’t.
“Yeah, but… my clients are real people, Aaron. With goals and dreams and tough situations. And they come to me for my help. ”
I open my suitcase, staring at my folded clothes, feeling strangely naked. I can feel his gaze on me. Hot, like a flame.
“And then I give them what they want, so usually there’s no need for someone to come back.”
“Why does she come back?” he asks, his voice slightly dark. Almost jealous, even.
I think about his question, wondering how much I should tell him because Bella is a client and I don’t usually talk client info with people who aren’t privy to that info in the first place, like my brother. It goes against the NDA and confidentiality agreement.