Chapter 7 #2
He nods, jovial. “I’ve been pet sitting on the side for a few years now.
I was a vet tech until a couple of weeks ago, and I have an inheritance from my grandparents for a safety net.
I could always go back if my circumstances change, but I actually live more comfortably now. Rich people really love their pets.”
“That’s great.” I force a smile, even as a pit forms in my stomach. Everyone around me seems capable of turning their true passions into their full-time jobs while I continue to flounder. “We obviously can’t tell them about my job, so . . . I’ll be an artist.”
Noah’s brows knit together. “Why can’t we tell them about your job?”
He can’t be serious. I wait a few moments for him to put the pieces together, but he continues to stare at me, dumbfounded.
“Because I’m a professional fake girlfriend?” When he still looks confused, I add, “And they’ll probably figure out pretty quickly that you hired me.”
“Oh. Right. Duh. So you’re a tortured artist. Great choice. Might be a little risky, though. Can you draw?”
“I’m actually a freelance artist, so it’s not exactly a lie.”
“Seriously?” He brightens. “You should show me your art sometime. I’d love to see it.”
I try not to let myself get distracted by that grin. By the way his eyes light up and his cheeks puff out adorably when he’s happy or joking.
“Maybe someday. Um. So.” I clear my throat, glancing back down at the questions in the note on my phone. “What are your hobbies?”
“Besides breaking into apartments? Playing with puppies. Cuddling with kittens. Making fun of my brother. Provoking my sister. Kicking everyone’s ass at darts. Running.”
“Running? Good thing we’re fake dating because that would be a dealbreaker.” I lean my head back and groan. “Oh god, I have to pretend to be a runner? Even pretending sounds exhausting.”
Noah watches me, amused. “I wouldn’t expect my girlfriend—real or fake—to share all of my interests.”
“But we have to make this believable, and something needs to bond us. I don’t have siblings, and I’m terrible at darts, so running it is.”
“You have a hedgehog. So we both like animals. And we can work on the darts. Darts are just small knives, and we know how good you are with those.”
I let out a surprised laugh. “I didn’t even stab or maim you.”
“But you could have.”
“True.”
He nods at the homes circling a lake that’s probably half a mile in diameter. “We’re getting close to the house.”
“Your parents live on a lake? You’re kidding me. That’s literally my dream.”
A wistful, almost nostalgic feeling for a life I’ve never lived fills my chest. Waking up to the streaks of pink and orange reflecting off the water as the sun rises each morning.
At least, I assume that’s what the sky looks like at sunrise.
I’ve never lived in a lake house, so I’ve never had a reason to see one.
“They’re distraught empty-nesters, so I’m sure they’d let you move in.”
“Don’t even joke about it because I will make your parents like me more than you.”
He laughs, a beautiful, melodic sound. “I believe it. You’re very likable.”
I’m definitely blushing now.
He points ahead of us. “The lodge with the dark roof and red door. That’s the one.”
We only have another twenty feet or so left until we’re in front of their house. Panic bubbles in my chest. “Shit. Okay, we need to get through the rest of this. How do you take your coffee?”
“Black with a tablespoon of butter.”
“What the fuck?”
“What?”
“I’ve never, and I mean never, heard someone say they put butter in their coffee. No sugar? Or milk?”
“Nope. Just butter.”
“That’s so weird. And gross.”
“Have you ever tried it?”
“I’m not really a coffee drinker.”
“Well, I think not being a coffee drinker is weird. And gross.”
“I don’t think I even need to write that down because how could anyone forget something that disgusting?” Before Noah can protest again, I cut him off. “We need to come up with our meet-cute.”
He quirks a brow. Why does every expression that crosses his face make my stomach flip? “Meet-cute?”
“Our story about how we met.”
“Breaking into your apartment isn’t cute enough?”
That would make for an interesting meet-cute. A memorable one, at least. “Not if we want your family to believe I’m sane.”
“Why wouldn’t they think you’re sane?”
“Would a sane woman really continue to spend time with the stranger who broke into her apartment and not press charges?”
“Good point. Especially after he broke her door and puked everywhere.” He considers for a moment, eyes traveling up to the bright blue sky overhead. “How about we met at the clinic? You brought in Prick, I took amazing care of him, and you both fell in love with me.”
I mentally kick myself when my cheeks start to warm and an irrepressible smile sneaks across my lips. If that meet-cute ever happened, I would’ve instantly fallen for him. “How long ago did we meet? We need to make sure there’s no overlap between me and your ex.”
“I broke up with her a few months ago. January? Or February? So we’ll say we met a couple of weeks ago.”
Unbidden, images of Noah’s ex-girlfriend flip through my mind.
A model who towers over me and catches the eye of everyone in her vicinity, striding around in Gucci and Versace with lines that were practically fitted to her exact body dimensions.
I shake the thought away. I’m here to do a job, and it doesn’t matter if I don’t live up to Noah’s ex because none of this is real anyway.
“Two weeks?” I ask. “Three weeks? We need to be specific.”
“Three?”
“Let’s go with a month. You probably shouldn’t be introducing anyone to your family when your relationship is less than a month old.”
“Is that a rule?”
“A rule of thumb? But I guess meeting the family early in a relationship could indicate I’m nothing more than a rebound, which could be helpful when we stage our breakup.”
Noah studies me silently for a few seconds with an expression somewhere between amusement and awe. “You definitely do this professionally.”
“Um. Thanks.”
“Are you okay with holding hands? While we’re with my family? I think that’ll help sell it. My parents are affectionate. They might find it strange if we don’t touch at all. But if you’re not okay with it, that’s fine—”
“No, that’s okay.” I smile. I can deal with some hand-holding for show. “But no interlocking our fingers. That’s too intimate.”
He brightens at my sarcasm. “That’s where you draw the line?”
A notification pops up on my phone.
Hazel
I haven’t found anything on him. Some social media accounts that he’s already scrubbed of any ex-girlfriends. Not sure if that’s a green flag or a red flag.
Also, you did not tell me how HOT HE IS. What the fuck, Summer? This man could start a fire with that jawline.
I try to hide the screen from Noah as I rush to text her back.
Summer
That doesn’t even make sense.
Hazel
You wouldn’t be able to sleep on his stomach because of those ROCK HARD ABS. And the blue eyes? I’d swim in water that clear and inviting, even with sharks.
Summer
Please tell me you’re high.
Hazel
How’s the fake date going? How’s his family? Oh my god, imagine the babies you two would make!!
“Everything all right?” Noah nods down at my phone.
My face is on fire because now I’m picturing the cherubic faces of our babies with his blue eyes. I shove my phone in my purse. “Yep. Just my friend, Hazel.”
“Did she find something in my background check? I meant to tell you about that murder charge.”
“You saw that?” Now I officially want to die.
He barks a laugh. “Did she really do a background check?”
“Of course she did. She’s Hazel.” I narrow my eyes at him. “Let’s hear more about that murder charge.”
“Maybe over dinner.” He waves above his head, and an older couple standing arm-in-arm wave back from the porch of their lodge-style home. Noah’s parents.
Large windows, a wraparound porch, a dock on the water. Their home is picturesque. “I can’t wait to move in.”
“Also, real quick,” Noah adds. “My parents are cult leaders, trash hoarders, and only speak Pig Latin. That won’t be a problem, will it?”
“Not at all.”
He grins at me. “You ready to meet the family?”
From the porch, the woman in a long, flowing dress breaks apart from her husband and races toward us with a grin. I expect her to go for her son, cup his face with both hands and kiss his cheeks, but she beelines straight for me.
I barely have time to brace myself before his mother nearly flatlines me as she throws her arms around my middle. For such a small woman—I doubt she clears five feet—her strength knocks the wind out of my lungs. This must be that infamous strength women possess to lift cars off babies.
“Hey, Mom. This is—”
“Summer! Oh, it’s so nice to finally meet you!” Her voice is warm, her ginger scent like coming home for Christmas.
Finally? How much has Noah told her about me already?
Of course, I knew Noah would tell his family the basics if he was bringing me over for dinner—my name, age, criminal history—but I didn’t expect this much of a warm welcome.
Especially since they’ve been so worried about his breakup with his ex.
She was probably beloved by all of them, practically a member of the family.
His mother pulls back with a megawatt grin, keeping my arms firmly in her grip. She wears florals and an array of dazzling rings. Her wispy, pale blonde hair floats down her back, and I’d guess she’s about twenty years younger than she actually is. “You can call me Christine.”
“It’s really nice to meet you.” I match her smile. “Finally.”
“We’re so happy to have you.” Christine loops her arm through both mine and Noah’s as she leads us to the porch. “And this is my wonderful husband, David.”
“Nice to meet you, Summer.” He holds out his hand for me to shake.