Chapter 5
Chapter 5
You know how when you’re looking forward to something, you’re always glancing at the time and wishing it would skip by faster? Time really seems to drag, and you’re sure a minute suddenly lasts a year, an hour lasts a decade, and a day lasts a whole lifetime?
Well, that does not happen for me today.
Today, Father Time clearly drank far too much coffee, and he’s racing as fast as his little hands will go, right around to 2:30 in the afternoon: the time I’m due to meet Nick Zachary for our first fake date.
As I collect my jacket from the back of my chair, icy dread creeps down my spine. Leaving the office to meet Nick is like walking to a trigonometry exam I’ve not prepared for (and I know the feeling, because I did just that in high school and totally flunked out. Obviously).
Ed looks up at me over his reading glasses as I pass by his desk. “Is it 2:30 already? Wow, today has raced by.”
I blink at him in disbelief. It’s raced by like a sloth climbing a twenty-mile high tree as far as I’m concerned.
He stands up as I slip my jacket on and sling my purse over my shoulder. “I’ll walk with you,” he says, which is a weird thing for him to offer. Don’t get me wrong, Ed’s a lovely man and a very sweet and understanding boss. It’s just that he’s never walked me anywhere before, and I feel a little like a puppy.
At the elevator I say, “Thanks, Ed. I think I’ve got it from here.”
His eyes dart around the empty landing before he leans closer to me and says, “On behalf of the Hawks, I want to thank you for what you’re doing, Erin.” He keeps his voice low.
The only people who know about this fake relationship are me, Ed, Miranda, and the guys from Bennett Motors. And Nick, obviously. Oh, and Sophie and Darcy, too, although they’re under strict instructions not to mention anything about this being fake, on pain of death.
“What you’re doing for the team is nothing short of life saving.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t go that far, Ed,” I say as I pull my jacket together and try not to think of the fact that I’ve got my own reasons for doing this, reasons that have nothing to do with Ed or the Hawks or anything but me.
He looks at me earnestly. “That’s where you’re wrong.” He glances about himself once more and lowers his voice even further. So much so, in fact, that I need to lean closer just to hear him. “The truth is, without Bennett Motors, the Hawks would be in a tough position. Their sponsorship is worth a lot to us. A lot.” He shoots me a meaningful look.
“I’ll do my best to be as authentic as I can,” I say with an optimistic nod of the head. “You can rely on me.”
“Good. I knew I could. And if that monthly report is causing you any concerns—”
“It’s not. I’m fine.” I press the down button.
“Good. Excellent. All right. Well.” He smacks his lips together a couple of times as he works out what to say. In the end he lands on, “Go forth and convince the world.”
The elevator doors slide open, and I step inside. Turning to Ed, I reply, “I’ve got this,” with a confident grin, while inside I’m seriously beginning to consider making a run for the border. Well, if the island nation of New Zealand had any borders, that is, other than the wet one called the ocean. And I don’t have any current plans to go running into an ocean.
He grins at me as the doors begin to close over. “I know you do.”
Out on the sidewalk, I look up and down the street, searching for Nick. I spot a new, black, and very shiny Bennett truck and know instantly it’s his. I walk over to it and peer inside. Nick has his head back on the headrest and his arm up by the window, tapping to the beat of the music I can hear clearly from my spot on the sidewalk. I stand and wait. When he doesn’t notice me, I rap my knuckles on his window.
Immediately he winds his window down, and the music blares out at me, some loud rap song with a heavy baseline.
“Erin Andrews. My happy new girlfriend,” he says, shooting me that typically smug jock smile of his. He trails his eyes over me, and I resist the strong urge to squirm. “You’re looking cute. Red suits you.”
I smooth down my dress. I’m particularly proud of this ensemble, from the scoop-neck dress with the empire line to the cropped zip-up jacket. I’d spent hours upon hours learning how to tailor suits, and this jacket was my first success. There were a few less than optimal attempts along the way, but it was worth it to learn how to do it—and to get a jacket out of the process, too.
“Thank you, Nick,” I reply stiffly. “I made this outfit, you know.”
“An Erin Andrews original, huh?”
I raise my chin. “That’s right.”
“A woman of hidden talents. Hop in.”
I walk around to the passenger seat and climb up into the cab. Even for my considerably taller friends, this thing is high off the ground, and I’m forced to grab onto the door to launch myself into it.
Nick is still smirking at me when I plunk myself onto the soft leather seat. “I’ll bring a step ladder for next time,” he says loudly over the music.
“Oh, very funny,” I bristle. “We can’t all be six-foot giants, you know.”
“Who’s a giant?”
“You are.”
“What?”
“Turn the music down,” I yell. When he does so, I repeat, “I said, we can’t all be six-foot giants like you.”
“Six foot three.”
“Splitting hairs much, Nick?” With some effort, I manage to pull the heavy door shut and click my seat belt in place.
“I’m just putting you straight. I figure my girlfriend should know my height.”
“Right, because people will definitely ask me how tall you are. It’ll be ‘Hi, Nick’s new girlfriend, do you know how tall he is, because otherwise we’ll all know this is a fake relationship.’” I scoff.
“I’m six foot three,” he repeats, his smile now almost reaching his ears.
“Okay. I’ve got it.” I refuse to smile back.
“How tall are you?”
“Not. I’m non-tall.”
“‘Non-tall’?” he questions, his lips lifting into a grin. “Is that even a thing?”
“Yes, it is.” I sniff. “Like nonstop or nonfat. Non-tall.”
“Good to know.” He keeps his eyes on me, and I do my best to appear as though being stared at by a self-satisfied jerk doesn’t ruffle my feathers. But oh, it so does. “So, where’s this place where we get to eat from a cake stand like ladies.”
“It’s not just a ladies thing, you know. Men go there, too.”
“With their ladies.”
“Not always.” Yes, always.
“Tell me, when did you last see a group of guys with no women at this place? My bet is never.”
“Why don’t we drive there, and we’ll see for ourselves?”
“I’ll, ah, need the address for that.”
I give him the address, and he pulls out of his parking space. The car growls like an angry panther as he drives us through the streets. He turns his terrible music up and begins to nod his head along to it. Thankfully for my poor eardrums being hammered by Nick’s terrible choice in music, the drive to Cozy Cottage High Tea isn’t long, and he pulls the car up a mere block down the street.
Switching the ignition off, he turns to face me. “We need to make this look real, remember.”
“Oh, I remember.”
“So, why don’t you drop the whole disdain for pro rugby players thing now before we get in there?”
“It’s not just disdain for rugby players,” I huff. “It’s all pro sportsmen.”
“Do you think that makes it better? Because I don’t,” he says with a chortle.
I take a deep breath. “Okay. I promise not to be negative about you and your kind.”
“If I do what?”
I furrow my brow. “I didn’t say ‘if.’”
“It was implied.”
“No, it wasn’t.”
“Yes, Erin, it was.”
I widen my eyes. “You’re using a tone with me now?”
He studies me for a moment. “Would it help if you knew something about me? We could swap info, get to know one another better.”
I give a noncommittal shrug. “Sure.”
“Good.” He nods. “Here’s my thing. Since an injury I got last year, I’m not a hundred-percent confident in my kicking ability. I’m working on it, but in my position, I really need to be able to nail it every time.”
I blink at him. He wants us to get to know one another, and the thing he chooses to share with me is about playing rugby? “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Thank you. Now it’s your turn.”
I cycle through a bunch of ideas, landing on something of equal importance. “Sometimes I get bored at sponsorship events and imagine telling everyone to shut up and leave so I can go home and stream Gilmore Girls and eat ice cream with my roommate.”
He lets out a low laugh. “The ice cream I can get on board with, but Gilmore Girls ? No way.”
“ Gilmore Girls is a classic! Sure, it’s a little dated now, but that’s part of its charm.”
“Erin likes Gilmore Girls. Mental note taken. Which is your favorite episode? Mine’s the one where Lorelai drinks coffee.”
“She does that continually in every episode.” I shoot him a sideways look. “You’ve watched Gilmore Girls ?”
He shrugs. “I grew up in a house full of women. Shows like that were impossible to avoid. I still bear the scars.”
“My heart bleeds for you. Now, shall we get in there, or do you want to bare your soul some more?”
“Let’s get in there. There’s plenty more time for us to bare anything we want to in this fake relationship of ours.” He shoots me a flirtatious waggle of his eyebrows, and I press my lips together.
“You’re hilarious,” I deadpan.
I begin the long climb down to the road. I’m surprised when Nick appears at my side, his hand extended.
“Because I haven’t got any steps for non-talls,” he says.
“I’m fine, thank you.” I sniff. Why does he have to drive a truck that should belong to The Hulk? I ignore his hand as I jump onto the street, my high heels making a clanking sound as they hit the tarmac. I do my best to ignore the way the impact ricochets up my legs.
“Suit yourself,” he says as he closes the door after me.
He holds the door for me as we walk into Cozy Cottage High Tea. Immediately heads turn to look at us, and I wonder whether it’s because they recognize Nick and are wondering what a guy like him is doing with an “ordinary” girl like me.
Wow, Miranda really got to me.
“Erin!” Sophie greets me with a hug. “Tonya said you’d booked for this afternoon.” Her eyes lift to Nick’s face and widen with astonishment. “Hi there. I’m Sophie. I’m the manager here,” she says.
“Hi. I’m Nick.”
“It’s great to meet you. Of course I’ve seen you on TV but never, you know, in the flesh. So this is great. You look great, and you’re here with Erin, which is also…great.” She flushes and adds, “That’s a whole lot of great, right there.”
I raise my eyebrows at her. Is she nervous?
“It’s great to meet you, Sophie,” Nick says.
“Ha!” Sophie replies with a laugh. “You’re funny. You know, my boyfriend, Jason, is going to die when I tell him I’ve met you.”
“I hope to get to meet him someday too.”
“Oh, that would be awesome. Thank you.” She stands there grinning like a super fan until she asks, “Do you like high tea?”
“I’m a big, big fan,” Nick replies with a smile. “I eat it with the guys all the time. It beats ribs or burgers, hands down.”
Sophie shoots him an uncertain look. “Well, I’ve not seen you at Cozy Cottage High Tea before.” She tucks some menus under her arm. “I’m sure you’re going to love it. Come with me, you two.”
As we follow Sophie across the room to a table by the window, there are so many eyes trained on us I feel like I must have something stuck to my face. We take our seats, and I look around. There are a couple of women about my age who are blatantly staring at us and a group of older women who look away as soon as my eyes land on them. I lean across and whisper, “Is it always like this?”
He glances at the girls in the corner and raises his chin at them in greeting before he returns his attention to me. “Sometimes, I guess. It’s good though, right? They’re seeing us together.”
“That’s true.” I sit back in my seat and wish people would mind their own business. I study the menu, even though I’ve been here enough to know every item on it.
“Excuse me?”
I look up to see one of the gawking girls standing next to us.
“You’re Nick Zachary, aren’t you?” she asks, her voice breathless.
“That’s me,” he replies with a pleasant smile. He nods at the phone she’s clutching in her hand. “Did you want a selfie?”
“Oh my gosh, yes!” she squeals. “Sadie, quick. He’s going to take a photo with us,” she calls across the room.
Her friend arrives, and Nick takes a series of selfies with each girl, all with a smile on his face.
I sit back and watch the whole thing unfold. I may as well be invisible to these girls. And to Nick, now that I think about it. He didn’t tell them who I was or introduce me to them. He just took their phones and snapped away while I sat here like a total chump.
Why am I surprised? He is a pro rugby player, after all.
“Thank you so much, Nick,” one of the girls simpers. “My friends are gonna die when I post this!”
“Good luck for the new season. We’ll be rooting for you,” the other one says.
“You’re welcome. I love my fans,” he replies with a grin.
Yup, a little too much when it comes to the female ones, which is why I find myself in a fake relationship with him in the first place. Well, that and the drinking and the nightclubs and the drowned car and the… Okay, so women are just part of the image issue, but still. Invisible right now, remember?
I feel a light tap on my ankle under the table and look up in surprise to see Nick wink at me.
“Hey, girls. I didn’t introduce you to Erin,” he says, gesturing at me.
Can this guy read my mind?
“Erin, say hi.”
“Hi,” I parrot.
The girls glance at me and dismiss me in one movement.
“Erin’s my new girlfriend,” Nick says.
Both the girls’ eyes swing back to me and give me the once over.
“ You’re dating Nick Zachary?” the blonde one says in astonishment as her eyes sweep over me.
Yeah, like the idea is that implausible! Nick might be sporting royalty, and he might have impressive abs and muscles in places I certainly don’t have, but I’m no slouch in the looks department. Or at least I didn’t think I was until this whole fake dating Nick Zachary began. Now I’m just the “ordinary” girl whose currently on the fast track to some serious self-esteem issues.
Both girls gawk at me as though the very thought of me coming within five feet of the god-like Nick Zachary is completely beyond their comprehension.
“That’s right. I’m-I’m Nick’s girlfriend,” I reply and shoot him a coy look across the table. “I’m Erin Andrews. It’s—” soul destroying? confidence shattering? utterly horrendous? “—so nice to meet you girls.”
They look about as happy to meet me as a kid finding out Santa isn’t real.
Well, too bad girls! He’s mine. Or at least he’s mine in a totally fake, short-term way.
“Hey, I’ve got an idea,” Nick says. “Let’s take a photo of all of us together.”
“Sure!” the girls trill.
A moment later, Nick has one of his arms slung around my shoulders, the other one holding the phone up, as the girls pose and pout like a couple of Kylie Jenner wannabes beside us.
“You okay?” he asks me under his breath.
“Sure,” I reply, suddenly uncertain I am okay and no clue why I wouldn’t be.
“Good.” He gives my shoulder a little squeeze before he drops his arm. “Hey, tag me in that photo, ’kay?” he says as he hands the girl back her phone.
“Of course,” she says with a dreamy look in her eye. She doesn’t move.
“Err, if you don’t mind, my girlfriend and I would like to enjoy our high tea,” Nick says with a charming smile.
“Oh, sure.” The girl’s eyes dart to mine, and she gives me a brief smile. “Enjoy it. The food here is amazing.”
“By eeee ,” the other one says, stretching the added syllable right out.
With the girls gone, we’re alone once more, and I’m suddenly feeling inexplicably shy. Well, not inexplicably, exactly, because I know that including me in the photo was unexpected and really sweet and thoughtful of him.
Wait, what? Nick Zachary is sweet and thoughtful? What am I, drunk?
“Right,” he says as he picks up his menu. “What’s good here?”
“All of it.”
He lifts his eyes to mine and with a smile on his face says, “Not helpful, Erin.”
He returns his focus to the menu, and I wrestle with conflicting thoughts duking it out inside my head. Nick including me with those girls and checking in to make sure I was doing okay does not fit with my fixed (and I suspect absolutely accurate) image of the type of person he is. It’s the Nick I think he is versus the Nick he showed me now.
As we order our high tea and sit and chat about nothing much at all, I wonder which is the real Nick Zachary?