20. Gwen
twenty
Gwen
Present
“You’re not going to like what I have to say,” Jenna sings.
“Great,” I groan.
I’ve just finished telling her about everything that’s happened since we last spoke. My grandfather’s crappy will, the disastrous meeting with my dad, dinner with my mom and Juju, and Juju’s crazy-ass idea.
But I leave out the incident with Lance at the dog shelter. No use bringing it up when nothing really happened. At least, that’s what I keep telling myself.
Judging by the look on her face, there’s a one hundred percent chance I’m not going to like what she has to say.
“Okay, let me have it,” I huff.
I lean back and kick my feet up onto the chair beside me. My phone is propped up against my water bottle on the conference table as I video chat with my bestie during my lunch break.
As I predicted, she got the role in the play she auditioned for, and between her rehearsal schedule and my work schedule, we haven’t been able to connect.
Jenna isn’t the only one I haven’t seen this past week. Lance has been on the road for a week of away games, and I oddly miss him.
Every night, I picture his handsome face and the silver flecks in his piercing blue irises. He’s impossible to get out of my head.
I really need to stop thinking about him. Nothing can happen between us. No almost kisses will change his mind.
“Promise to hear me out before you start telling me no?” Jenna asks.
I pinch my lips between my fingers, making my friend chuckle. We both know that’s not my style, but I’ll try for her.
“Juju is right; getting married would solve a lot of your problems.”
“Not you too,” I groan.
My grandmother’s plan is off-the-charts bonkers. I’m not surprised Jenna agrees with her. She’s more of an “act now and figure out the consequences later” kind of gal. The last thing I want to do is make a rash decision that could affect my life, just for a job.
It’s not just a job, though; it’s your dream career.
She wags her finger at me. “Nuh … lips zipped.”
I bite them between my teeth so she can continue.
“If you make the right deal with the right person, then you can have the job you want. Prove you’re an absolute badass. Then, when you’re in the clear, you get an amicable divorce, and it’s over. There’s nothing about being a divorceé in the will, is there?”
“No.” I don’t think so. But can I trust my dad not to pull some random clause out of his butt after the fact? Also no.
“See. Loophole.” Jenna grins.
“Okay, genius. Give me the name of one single guy who isn’t a walking red flag, willing to go along with this bananas plan of yours?” I tease.
“Ty!”
“Ty? You know he likes men, right?”
Jenna rolls her eyes at me. “You need a paper husband with no mess. Who’s better than an actor who won’t sleep with you?”
“True. But he lives in New York.”
“Give him a free place to stay, and he will be on the next flight out. He’s been wanting to make a change, anyway.”
“You mean get away from all his crazy exes,” I tease.
Jenna waves me off. “Tomato, tomahto.”
“There is no way it would work.”
Lying to my family about being married, just so Dad promotes me, sounds like a bad idea. If he just gave me a chance, like he did my brothers, he’d see I can lead the PR and marketing department with my eyes closed. Then I wouldn’t feel like I have to resort to crazy schemes.
But he also said he wouldn’t change the rules. So …
Jenna scoffs. “Are you kidding? Ty is a great actor. The role of fake husband was made for him. Plus, you know him, so you know there won’t be a fuss at the end of this.”
“My family would never believe it.”
“Sure, they will. Come visit me, then you can say the two of you reconnected while you were visiting and, voilà. Married. Bonus: Your parents have never met Ty. They’d be none the wiser.”
“I don’t know,” I hesitate.
Juju would know. There isn’t a thing the sly old woman misses. Even if getting married was her idea and she would have my back, she’d never believe Ty is the man of my dreams.
“At least let me talk to Ty about it?” Jenna asks.
It can’t hurt to talk to Ty and see if he’d be interested in pretending to be my husband. At least until the end of the season.
“Fine. You can talk to him.” I sigh, surrendering.
It’s not as thoughe I have to go through with it. I can back out of the plan at any time.
“Yay!” Jenna does a little dance on her couch, waving her arms in the air. “You’re getting married.”
The door slams into the wall, shaking the entire conference room and startling me.
“What the fuck?” a booming voice shouts.
My body locks tighter than a bank safe, and shivers race down my spine as I glance over my shoulder at the looming presence.
Lance is fuming as he fills the doorway with his height and broad shoulders.
Face red, jaw tight, wide shoulders rising and falling with ragged breaths, he pierces me with his cornflower-blue gaze. His eyes are dark, icy daggers as he stares at me. Anger, disbelief, and some other emotion I can’t quite nail down color his expression.
“Oh shit,” Jenna mumbles in the background, reminding me of her presence.
Lance’s sudden appearance sucked all the air from the room, making it hard for me to breathe, let alone think.
“Jenna, I’ll call you later.” Without taking my eyes off the imposing figure standing before me, I reach for my phone and end the call.
The dress shirt stretched tight across Lance’s chest is rumpled with sleep, as are his slacks. Beneath the anger, he looks tired, and the five-o’clock shadow on his chin confirms it.
Why does he have to be so damn hot?
Even angry and tired, he’s a marble statue of toned muscle, strong masculine features, and beauty.
“You’re getting married?” he repeats.
“What? No.” I jump from my seat and rush toward him.
Peeking out the door, I make sure the coast is clear before grabbing his wrist and tugging him inside the conference room. I shut the door behind him, giving us privacy.
Lance turns on me. “I heard your friend say you’re getting married.”
“It’s not like that.” I sigh.
“Then what’s it like?” Lance crosses his arms over his chest, waiting for me to explain. Something about the way his eyes plead with me to clarify sends my stomach spiraling.
I throw myself into the chair and exhale a loud breath. “Do you remember the stipulations of the will?”
“Yes,” he says, offended that I’d think he’d forget. “Your father won’t promote you unless you’re …”
The moment Lance figures it out, his eyes widen in shock, and his jaw hits the floor.
“Married,” I say, finishing his sentence. “You overheard Jenna trying to convince me to marry one of our close friends, on a temporary basis, to fool my father. It’s not happening, okay? I don’t want the marketing position that badly.”
The lie tastes bitter on my tongue. I want the job that badly. Not only do I want it, but I want to own it. Prove to my father that I was the right person all along and that he never should have doubted me.
I can feel Lance staring as if his eyes are fingertips brushing across my skin. When I finally look him in the eye, there’s no hint of what he’s thinking. His face is a mask of indifference.
The silent seconds pass slowly as he stares down at me. I’d give anything to know what he is thinking.
“Marry me,” Lance blurts, breaking the silence.
Okay, I never would have guessed that’s what he was thinking.
“What?” He can’t be serious.
But he is.
Lance kneels beside the chair I’m sitting on and turns it until I’m facing him.
“Marry me,” he repeats.
Again, it’s a demand, not a question.
“Lance, you can’t be serious.”
He grips my knees, spreads my legs open, and pulls my chair closer, situating his body between my thighs. “I am serious. Marry me.”
The saliva in my mouth dries up as he runs his thumbs over my inner thighs in a soothing caress. “You sound crazier than my best friend.”
“Apparently, crazy is my middle name,” he says with a wide, toothy grin.
I’ve never seen this smile before. Not even when he was celebrating with his teammates after winning the World Series. He’s practically beaming at me. Ready to bounce off the walls with delight.
“Then I have to be the smart one and protect you. You could hurt your standing with the team. My father could fire you. And it’s against the rules to date employees.”
“Wrong. There is no rule that states people in the front office can’t date players. Your boss dated and married a player during her tenure, and neither of them was fired.”
“Maryse isn’t a Montgomery,” I remind him.
“True. But I can handle it. So, marry me, get your dream job, and then we’ll figure out the rest.”
Figure out the rest? What the hell is he talking about?
He places his large hands on my cheeks, cupping my face. His touch is gentle, reverent. “Let me help you, Gwen. Will you marry me?”
Maybe it’s the confidence in his voice, or the memory of our night together. But some unknown entity wraps itself around my body like a silk rope, soft and comforting, and calms me.
The soothing sensation has me uttering, “Yes, I’ll marry you.”
It’s official.
I’m the crazy one because I just said yes to marrying one of my dad’s baseball players. A man I had a one-night stand with.
Nothing bad can come of this, right?