Chapter Five
CHAPTER FIVE
I pounded my fist on my fiancé’s door.
Yup, that was what I was calling him in my head. Because for all practical purposes, he was. He just needed to be informed of that fact.
There was noise on the other side. A sort of bang. And a thump. Then steps. I leaned back and waited, relieved that Matthew was, frankly, alive. Grandpa Moe had joked about ditching him somewhere in the woods when I’d asked if he’d safely deposited our guest in Lazy Elk. I hadn’t laughed. I didn’t have the time to retrieve a man from the forest at the moment.
The door to Lazy Elk Lodge opened, revealing a messy-haired, half-asleep Matthew. He was in sweatpants and a hoodie. No glasses, I noticed. He looked nice. A right out of bed, I’m hot without trying kind of nice. Which was… unimportant.
“Whattookyousolong,” I asked in single rush of words, stepping under his arm and coming inside. Looked like I was not waiting to be let in. “I’ve been banging on the door for five whole minutes.”
Matthew turned around slowly, blinking at me. “Josie?”
A strange sound left me. I wished it hadn’t, but I hadn’t been able to do a single thing to stop it. “Not this again,” I whispered. He opened his mouth, but honestly? Now I was irked. I stomped in his direction, dropped the bags at our feet and whacked him in the stomach— hard stomach, by the way, just like I’d guessed, based on that peek I’d gotten this morning.
“Christ,” Matthew complained, barely flinching. “What was that for?”
I huffed. “Something memorable enough for you to remember me, Dory.”
Matthew’s lips twitched. The corners of his mouth went up momentarily. Then he shook his head, as if wanting to stop the smile from sprouting. It didn’t work. He was grinning like some… I didn’t know. Like a blond guy who had just rolled out of bed and was smiling for no reason.
“My glasses,” he finally said. “I fell asleep on the couch and couldn’t find them in time to get the door. Couldn’t be sure it was you until you were close enough to punch me.”
A strange wave of relief hit me.
Of course. His glasses. I’d noticed the absence of them on his face but hadn’t put two and two together. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what got into me. I’m usually more thoughtful than that.”
He tilted his head. “You’re memorable enough already. You don’t need to resort to violence.”
A part of me wanted to remind him he’d thought I was some strange woman on a porch the night before. “You sleep a lot. And you should have said so before.” I snagged the bags off the ground, then pushed them against his chest. “You bring these to the kitchen. Or, wait. You stay here until I find your glasses. And then we talk.” I turned around, ignoring the question on his face. “I’d really like you to see my face for this conversation.”
Matthew’s smile fell, but I scurried into the living room before I could discover why and got started with the search.
“I know Lazy Elk like the palm of my hand, you know?” I called loudly, lifting up one of the cream-colored pillows before dropping it on the carpet. “Before Adalyn and Cameron left town, I was spending a lot of time here. And before you ask, I didn’t mind third-wheeling. I’ve always been confident in my singlehood, as much as you might think the opposite, considering… everything that has transpired.”
I stared at the pillowless couch, bringing my hands to my hips and calculating my next move.
“Anyway,” I said, carefully unfolding and shaking blanket number one. “I think they’ll want babies soon,” I added, discarding the burgundy wool cover aside. “They’re spending New Years in Italy, and that’s a pretty romantic country to be… you know.” I kneeled, going down on my knees and checking under the couch. “Have a li’l cheeky shag, like Cam would say. Not that he’d ever— Found them!”
I jumped back to my feet, glasses in hand, and a proud smile on my face. Matthew’s tall shape was there, right between the living and kitchen areas in the cabin’s open space, no bags in his arms. His expression was… strange. Pensive with a touch of something I couldn’t put a name to.
“Got your glasses,” I told him. And because he didn’t answer, I strode in his direction.
His gaze seemed to follow me as I made it all the way to where he stood. When I reached him, that thinking face didn’t go away. “Not sure if I should do this,” I told him, gently swiping the lenses with the cotton tee I wore under my sweater. “But they were laying on the carpet, so.”
My gaze returned to his face, finding his chin tipped down to look at me. Matthew was tall. A few inches taller than me, which had me tilting my head back. Silence seemed to lazily settle around us now that I wasn’t filling it, and he seemed to be waiting for something. Without thinking too much of it, I lifted my hands, the glasses rising in the small space between us with them. Gently, I touched the tips to the sides of his head. And when Matthew didn’t complain, I pushed them forward, slipping the temples into his hair.
His eyelids fluttered closed. In reflex or reaction, I couldn’t tell. I only knew it made me a little bolder. Before I could stop myself, my pinkies were brushing him. The sides of his neck. It was nothing but a soft, featherlike brush of my skin against his. But I was close enough to see his pulse jump.
He swallowed.
A shiver curled its way down my arms in response.
Matthew’s eyes reopened, the quality of his gaze changing, the brown in his eyes sharpening. He glimpsed down, at me, my face, my mouth.
Something between my belly and chest took notice. And I—
I stepped back.
Matthew blinked, as if spat right out of a turning wheel.
“Coffee,” I said, clearing my throat. “Let’s have coffee.” My hand rose to my face, unconsciously patting my cheeks. They were burning. “And snacks. Fruit. I’ve brought everything. What do you say?”
“You lead the way,” Matthew answered, moving to the side. Was his voice strange? “I have no idea where anything is here.”
He didn’t need to tell me twice. In a matter of minutes we were seated across from each other with twin mugs of freshly made cappuccinos and everything I’d brought with me displayed between us.
“I hate to be that person who looks a gift horse in the mouth,” Matthew said, gaze swiping every single container currently on the kitchen island. “But last time someone showered me with this many sweets, I was being bribed into taking my two sisters and three little cousins to Funtown Splashtown for a whole weekend.”
Well, shoot. “I’m not bribing you,” I exclaimed with a slightly high-pitched laugh. “No one’s bribing anyone. This is just coffee.”
Matthew momentarily arched a brow but brought his mug to his mouth. Unlike last night—or this morning—he seemed a little more… easy. Comfortable, even. Not so drained and perplexed. Good. That hopefully meant he’d be more willing, too.
“Holy shit,” he said, looking down at his coffee. “This is… wow. This is fantastic.”
“You know I run a very popular coffee shop, right? I know it’s fantastic.”
“My apologies,” he said in a joking tone. “I should have expected no less.” He eyed Cameron’s coffee machine on the counter. “I guess I was fooled with my own experience. I bought my dad one of those last year for Christmas, and whatever we did with it, coffee never tasted like this. Not even remotely close. And there was an embarrassing number of YouTube tutorials involved, trust me.”
“It takes some practice,” I pointed out with a shrug. “And I started years ago, if it makes you feel any better. With an older and less sophisticated model than the one Cam has here.” My smile turned a little smug, but I couldn’t help it. I was proud of myself. “There’s always a trick for the foamer,” I explained. “And the roast of the beans has to be right for milk-based brews. You have to go dark so you can still taste the richness of the coffee. And of course, the blend is also super important. One-hundred-percent Arabica, naturally, but the origin? Now there—” I stopped myself. “Sorry. I got carried away.”
“So you’re a coffee snob,” Matthew said, ignoring my apology. “Besides being a barista, and coffee shop owner, you’re also a nerd.” His hand reached out over the island, settling on one of my mini eclairs. “Born or made?”
“Made,” I answered easily, watching him chew and let out a tiny moan of appreciation. I was sure it’d been unconscious. My smile widened. “Someone taught me the basics and introduced me into the world. I went from there.”
“Someone?” He asked, taking a carrot cake square this time.
“An old friend,” I said, studying his reaction as he chewed once again. “He always dreamed of owning a coffee roaster with a small bar where customers could enjoy a cup while they’re shopping or waiting for their beans order.” Matthew licked the frosting off his thumb, a new sound of appreciation leaving his throat. “When we broke up, I was too deep into coffee culture to quit it.”
“When you broke up?” Matthew asked.
My eyes bounced up, leaving his mouth. “Sorry?”
“You said an old friend got you into it.”
I entertained the idea of making something up. But if I really wanted Matthew to do this big thing for me, and if he agreed, this would eventually come up. My exes.
“Shawn,” I explained. “He was a friend first. Then my first love. Then my fiancé. Then an ex.”
Shawn and I had been high school sweethearts. We’d dated through our teens, and he’d proposed soon after graduation. Unlike me, he decided not to go to college. So I’d lived in Chapel Hill while attending UNC and I’d go visit him up in Fairhill on the weekends. That didn’t last as long as I’d hoped. Out of all my failed attempts at a successful walk down the aisle, this one had been the easiest to explain. We’d simply been too young. Too na?ve. Stuffed with too many dreams. Too green and far from the people we were supposed to be. No one had judged me for leaving Shawn the way I did. Not with Mom’s passing so relatively recent, and us being so young.
I didn’t know if it was my wording that made Matthew ponder my words for so long, but he seemed as lost in thought as me. Only difference was, my stomach had closed at the memory, and he kept snagging more sweets. A second eclair. A lime mini tart. A white chocolate brownie. Then a pistachio one. Then raspberry. Macadamia.
“Whoa,” I decided to say. “You’re stress eating my rainbow brownies like your life depends on it.”
“Fhey’re really goohd,” he admitted through a mouthful.
“Anything on your mind?”
His throat bobbed as he swallowed. “Nothing worth discussing.”
Ouch. I couldn’t explain exactly why, but that stung. “So…” I ventured, brushing whatever that was aside and focusing on what had brought me here. Our conversation. My dilemma. “Bobbi showed up at Josie’s Joint earlier today. And before I say more, I want you to know that she promised—”
“Don’t trust a single promise that woman makes you,” Matthew said with a shake of his head.
I sighed. I was getting really tired of being interrupted by everyone anytime I summoned the nerve to say something. “Why not?”
Matthew averted his gaze, searching around the island that separated us. I hoped he wasn’t considering going back to stress eating instead of elaborating. I was desperate and I’d take the food away from him. “The short version is because she works for Andrew Underwood.”
“And the long one?”
“Because she works for your father.”
“That’s the same answer, Matthew.”
His face hardened, that glimpse of the more playful, relaxed Matthew disappearing. “It’s not,” he said. “Andrew Underwood is a powerful businessman with a multimillion-dollar portfolio. Your father is a selfish man who has his own interests at heart. You can have your pick, but Bobbi doesn’t work for you.”
“Bobbi also said you’d be reluctant,” I commented. “She seems to be right about that.”
“There’s nothing to be reluctant about,” he answered. “Because I thought you were clearing this up with her. Telling her the truth.”
“Plans change.”
Matthew stiffened on his stool. “What changed?”
Everything, I should have said. But I went with a simple, “Everyone in town already thinks we’re engaged.”
“What?” he sputtered. “How?”
“My neighbor Otto Higgings. People have been coming by Josie’s all day, extending their congratulations and theorizing who the mystery man is. Bets are on some guy named Maverick.” Matthew’s eyes turned to plates. “Believe me, I had no idea this would happen. I wanted to come clean, but I think that given the circumstances, the best course of action is that we do it.”
“That we do what?”
I shot him a look. “That we pretend we’re engaged. That we let the town, and everyone, think we actually are, and let Bobbi do her thing. Andrew knows now, too, apparently. He wants to be involved in the wedding like Bobbi said. Pay for it, show up…” I shook my head. I didn’t want to think of what that meant right now. Not yet. “That’s supposed to appease the gossip. Bobbi’s good at her job. She has to be if she was hired by Andrew, so I’m sure she’ll fix everything before you have to wear a bow tie. I don’t think we’ll even get into the thick of wedding preparations. Just… long-term, surface planning. We’ll just let them believe Andrew’s part of it and act like we want to get married, while Bobbi works her magic. I trust that she will do that quickly.”
“Josie,” he said. Just that. My name. He shook his head, a strange sound leaving him. “That’s not pretending we’re engaged. That’s being engaged.”
My cheeks flamed. “Then pretend you’re in love with me. While we’re engaged. Temporarily. Out of convenience. I’m not asking you to marry me. We’ll break things off when all this PR stuff goes away.”
He laughed then, but it dripped with… disbelief? Bitterness? “Out of convenience for whom? Because this is not just posing for a couple of pictures with Andrew. Believe me, I know. I was there, with Adalyn. I’ve seen a version of this PR crisis happen already. You have, too, when he shipped her here to shove her out of the way. So tell me, to what lengths are you willing to go to protect him just because some asshole with a bitchy attitude tells you to?”
I flinched. “This is different. It’s not a silly viral video that will blow over. It’s my life. Andrew’s. Adalyn’s.” My… family’s lives. One I thought I’d never have after Mom passed away, and I never seem to get a relationship right. “I’ve thought about this. I’m not just jumping on it because I’m told to.”
His voice softened, his tone almost turning careful. “Aren’t you, sweetheart?”
Sweetheart. It wasn’t the word that bothered me. It was the way he said it. Like someone who wanted to protect me. To spare me the heartbreak. “Give me some credit, Matthew. I’m not some simpleton who’s being tricked by the city folk.”
He immediately paled, and I saw on his face that he hadn’t meant it that way. I also realized I probably shouldn’t have said that, but it had to be said.
“I’m protecting myself,” I insisted.
“Josie,” he warned. Apologetic. Honest. “I did not mean it like that. I’m trying to look out for you. You don’t need to do this. You don’t need me, or a fiancé, or anybody.”
“Maybe I don’t,” I said, done with warnings. Apologies. Honesty, too. I hopped off my stool. “But that’s unimportant. Because if you really want to look out for me, then you’ll help me. I might not need to do this. But I want to. Do you want to hear why?”
I rounded the island, slowly crossing the distance to where he sat, his eyes not leaving me as I moved. “Why?”
“Because,” I said, reaching his side and coming to a stop. Without breaking eye contact, I placed my hands on his knees. Matthew exhaled as I turned his body in the swiveling stool so he’d fully face me, ignoring the way his eyes widened slightly. “Because the idea of being a liability,” I continued, stepping into his outstretched thighs, lowering my voice so it was nothing but a murmur. “The idea of becoming a problem,” I added, feeling his body start to gravitate toward mine. Only a little. Only enough. “The idea of being a thorn in a man’s side, or anyone’s flaw or weakness, much less my father’s, makes me sick to my stomach.”
My words felt like a confession. And I didn’t know what to do with that. I didn’t know what to do with the way Matthew hadn’t moved an inch, besides his hands dropping to his sides in fists. Or the way I was standing so, so, so, so close to him. So much that I could smell things like his shampoo or some faded traces of cologne on him. I didn’t know what to do with how enraptured he seemed by my nearness and how that made me feel.
“I’m doing this for myself, Matthew,” I whispered. His eyes dipped down. To my mouth, making me notice I was biting my bottom lip. “Not because anyone is telling me to. I want to do this because I started it, and it’s you I need.” My hand reached up, but I stopped myself before it made contact with his arm. Chest. Him. “Not anyone else. You. So be my fiancé, Matthew. Please.”
Brown eyes softened and flared, all at once. My stomach started to constrict, but I pushed that down. I didn’t know what I was doing, but whatever that was, it was working. Hope swelled inside me as I watched him. A muscle in his jaw jumped.
“Okay,” he finally said.
My eyes widened, and I was sure they had to be sparking with surprise, because just then, Matthew seemed to realize what he’d said.
“Perfect!” I squeaked, stepping back from a confused Matthew. I started walking backward, making my way to the door. “Meet me tomorrow at the Warriors Park, okay? Eleven sharp. It’s right across from Josie’s, at the end of Main Street. You’ll find it on Google, too; I made sure it’s there.” I turned around, closing my eyes. Oh boy. Oh man. What the hell had just happened? “All right, toodles!”
It was only when I closed the lodge’s entrance door behind me that the answer to my question seemed to form.
I’d just… proposed to Matthew.
And for someone who had been engaged four times, I really sucked at it.