Chapter 12
CHAPTER TWELVE
Elise
M y brain ran at a sprinter’s pace.
I just told him how hot he is and of course he knows this but now I’ve made it incredibly awkward and obvious just how gorgeous I think he is and that’s fiiiiiine. It’s cool, cool, cool, cool, cool.
His gaze rested on me, but I didn’t dare look up and let him see the full blaze of my blush, so I kept my eyes on my food and hoped he’d continue.
Mercifully, he did.
“They are legitimate. It was an odd time in my life, but that didn’t seem to faze my grandfather either. At that age, all I wanted was for him to acknowledge I had agency and should get to choose, but he’d simply say it was a passing fancy and I’d change my ways soon enough. Then I did something more drastic—leaning into my half-American heritage my grandfather disdained and, even better, joining the American military. He froze the trust that contains a fairly large sum of money I should’ve received at twenty-five and made it so I couldn’t access it until I was out of the military. That time has come… and he’s moving the goal post again. It never bothered me because I had no use for that kind of money.”
I froze after crunching my latest guac-smothered chip. He laughed softly, this charming little wisp of air and flash of teeth, and shook his head.
“I was a petulant child and…” He looked down and tucked some grilled vegetables into the tortilla he’d been slowly filling, lines bracketing his mouth with his frown. “I’m afraid I’ve put you in this position because I still am sometimes. At the same time, I finally know how I’d use the money in the trust. I want to help Saint Security expand. We have a great investor now, but I’d love to shift that to someone who’s employed there. I’d—all those details don’t matter. The point is, I’m hoping this will appease him enough to stop him from dissolving the trust.”
I swallowed my bite and studied him. Why did his admission that he’d been acting a fool about all this make me like him more? Even the knowledge that he wanted to help expand Saint brought me joy because so many great people worked there. Some of my very favorite people, in fact.
“No one is immune to family dynamics. I’m surrounded by people who have these beautiful, loving relationships with at least one member of their family, and I—” My lips snapped closed when I realized what a personal truth I’d almost offered him right on a platter with a side of rice and beans.
He gave me a few seconds to recover, each of us eating our dinner with distant sounds of piped in mariachi music and the hum of other diners filling the space between us.
“You don’t have to finish whatever thought you started, but if you want to, I’d like to know.” His quicksilver eyes flickered back and forth between mine. “I’m under no illusion you’re perfect because no one is. But I admire and respect you, what I know of you, and I hope you’ll feel safe to tell me whatever you want.”
The emotion attempting to leak from my tear ducts came down to exhaustion. And maybe the overwhelm of being a business owner in a niche market in a resort town with heavy seasonal market shifts.
Maybe it also had something to do with this man being so forthright with me about his own failings and welcoming me to be human.
“You’re so sure I’m not perfect?” I asked, deflecting and hoping the tease would help me inch away from the ache at my jaw that signaled a potential onslaught of tears.
He flashed a grin before sobering. “I’m certain. And I’m glad. I could never be fake-engaged to someone perfect.”
After another bite, during which I summoned both calm and bravery, I set down my fork. “I was going to say I’m not close to mine. My mom follows her heart on a whim and is currently married to husband number six. They live in Florida, and we talk maybe once a month.”
I wouldn’t explain everything there—the reasons why we don’t talk more or why I couldn’t stomach being around her when she was married or recently divorced or looking for someone new—so basically ever.
“I’m only close to my sister, whom you’ll meet. She just confirmed she and her husband will be coming into town the day after my grandfather arrives.”
“I’m glad I’ll get to meet her. On that note, you just said fake fiancée, but the other day you said you wanted it to be real for all intents and purposes. I think I know what you mean by that—you want it to look real to everyone. That’ll help the Callum situation, too. But… are you thinking we’ll tell people?”
His shoulders rose and fell with a big breath. “I defer to you on this. I understand if you’re not comfortable telling others. Perhaps you tell your close friends what’s really happening, and everyone else will believe we’re engaged as will, we hope, your ex.”
“Tell them it’s fake?”
He nodded. “You tell your friends I’ve been an impulsive child and lied to my grandfather and you are the kind soul helping me navigate the mess of my own making.”
I chuckled, appreciating his self-deprecation even if it was a bit much. “I’m not sure all of that is necessary, but I would prefer to tell my friends. They won’t say anything to Callum, for sure, and otherwise, I’m not sure who’d notice. And you can let me know if you’ll be telling yours or?—”
“Fair warning. I have already told Kenny and Stone.”
My lips twitched. “I can only imagine what Kenny said.”
His eyes shut slowly, Luc’s flair for the dramatic hilarious. “You can imagine. And after tonight, assuming you’re comfortable with the way forward, I’m sure he’ll let you know how he feels about it.”
I giggled at the thought of what Kenny Carmichael would say. The man was the most excitable, hilarious person and yet so full of what seemed like genuine love for his friends and the people around him, it was delightful instead of annoying or tiresome.
“I look forward to that.”
He seemed pleased by this, but his expression shifted as I took another bite.
“Before we finish, let’s talk specifics. One concern I have is the presentation of our engagement.”
“As in… how we look together? If the main event is the Silver Ridge Charity Gala, I may need some help with what to wear, but I clean up okay.” A bit of my self-esteem crumbled at his concern, but his hand shot out, stopping just short of mine on the table.
“I’m not at all concerned about what you’ll wear, but of course I’ll provide whatever attire is necessary. You won’t incur any expenses in that regard. I meant more that typically, an engaged couple would touch.”
His gaze found mine, and the meeting of our eyes combined with that word from his lips— touch, touch, touch —sent my pulse climbing.
“Oh, of course. But um, what were you thinking?” And had it gotten hot in here? Had Luis suddenly cranked the heat despite the spring air warming the evening already? Had my shirt shrunk to a size smaller than when I walked in?
We’re standing in a packed ballroom and he’s holding me close as we dance in what feels like slow motion. The crowd around us blurs and he’s running the pad of his finger along my bare shoulder. I’m in a strapless ballgown akin to Belle’s in the animated movie and he is, inexplicably, wearing a Phantom of the Opera style mask. He dips his head and runs his nose along the line of my jaw, then ? —
“We’d need to hold hands. I’d put a hand on your shoulder or back, maybe, to walk next to you. Normal things a couple would do in a relationship.” His throat bobbed, almost like he had to gulp down anything else instead of continuing.
I took a large drink of my margarita and promptly found the bottom, ice clanking around in the glass, so I set it down and touched a napkin along my lips as though I were dainty and delicate and not someone who typically simply wiped my mouth. The prospect of being on display in front of Luc’s extremely wealthy family suddenly made me mindful of just about everything.
Straightening my spine and pulling my shoulders back, I held my head higher and banished the slouch I favored too easily when sitting. When I met his gaze, he’d been waiting patiently for my response.
“That’ll be fine. I’ll just… I’ll just need some practice.”
Against my wishes, my cheeks heated as a version of him in a mask with his dark hair slipping over his forehead in a roguish wave pressed me closer and coasted his lips along my neck in that make-believe ballroom in my head. He practices kissing me there, practices lacing our finger together, practices slipping his hands into my hair and dismantling the artful updo some kind talking wardrobe or feather duster worked hard on…
Yikes, that’s a lot.
I ducked my head to take another bite of my dwindling dinner, hoping he wouldn’t notice.
“Of course. I will, too. It’s been a while since I’ve been in a… relationship.”
Fleetingly, I wondered if maybe I wasn’t the first woman he’d been fake—or maybe even real—engaged to, based on that hesitation before relationship .
“Me, too.” He seemed to know about Callum—or if he hadn’t known before he interrupted our confrontation days ago, he certainly did now. If we were talking about a healthy relationship, I wasn’t sure I’d ever been in one of those.
The waiter came to take our now-empty plates, and we chatted lightly, not pushing back into the main topic of conversation. He took the bill and paid it before I could put up a fight, and I hated myself for being secretly relieved he’d done so.
Which was a great reminder of exactly why this wasn’t a real relationship. I didn’t want someone to take care of me, and the fact that I felt a twinge of relief was proof I was my mother’s daughter. Until I managed to bury those roots completely, I wasn’t in any shape to be someone’s partner.
But in this scenario, I didn’t have to worry about all of that, did I? I’d have the distraction of getting to know this beautiful man and the opportunity to help someone. I could shove the tendency for self-preservation down because this wouldn’t put me in danger. This was all for a goal and it had nothing to do with my financial gain or marital status. It had, ultimately, very little to do with me at all, except that I happened to be the woman he’d asked.
We walked out of the restaurant, and I could’ve sworn the heat of his hand hovered just behind me, but with a glance, there was nothing. Outside, he turned to me, peering down and seeming surprisingly tall. Was it because we were standing closer than usual? Or had I just not noticed? He had at least six inches on me, maybe more, but tonight it felt more significant.
“We’ll do this again. You tell me when you can so we can get to know each other better. Until then…” He held out his hand.
I swallowed and felt the pulse in my neck and at my temple in an instant, but I slipped a hand into his large, warm, dry one.
All that rushing, anxious energy in me ceased. The air around us must’ve stilled because the space between us, the sounds, the bustle… everything stopped. Our hands shook once, up and down, and I watched as though they belonged to strangers.
He released me. I swallowed hard and wished him good night, my voice all but missing, and walked home with his soft bonne soirée fluttering at my ears.