Chapter 16
RAKE
“So, Petal,” I say, lowering my voice. “I have a proposition for you that, to be honest, mostly benefits me. But it could also be good for you.”
I’m sitting back far enough that should she decide to chuck her coffee in my face, I can dodge the worst of it.
“What?” she asks, glancing in the direction of people whispering and pointing. “Look at that. So rude. Does this happen all the time?”
I don’t look. Fans are kind of like zombies. The minute you look at them, they head straight for you.
I told the guys this once and they nearly fell to the floor laughing. I did not, however, tell Vince, due to his lack of sense of humor and all.
“Ignore them, Petal. Anyway, look, I want us to stay married.”
She laughs, and a spray of coffee shoots from her mouth and lands on my hands, which are folded on the table. “Oh my God. Sorry,” she says, and starts to dab me with the same napkin she just wiped her nose with.
“Very funny, Rake. You really know how to crack a girl up. Know you, you’re lucky you got me, that I won you in the auction, and agreed to our hilarious little stunt in Vegas.
Because I’m chill. A lot of girls are not and would think you’re being serious.
That would not be good, especially if you hooked up with some kind of crazy bunny-boiler.
” She sits back in her chair and sighs, stealing a look at the clock on the wall.
Geez. Am I that boring?
She points at me. “Hey, by the way, what’s up with the divorce? You call your lawyer yet?”
“Petal, that’s what I want to talk to you about,” I say, taking a deep breath and reminding myself to be patient.
She’ll go along with everything, right? It’s no skin off her back, right?
“Rake, if you don’t have someone, I can always reach out to our family lawyer to take care of things. Although I don’t know if he handles divorce,” she adds, tapping her chin.
“Petal. Would you please listen to me? This is important.”
Shit, I said that loudly. And now several heads are looking in our direction.
She shrugs. “Fine. I’m listening.”
“Thank you. Now, I’m serious about this. I want to stay married.”
She tilts her head slowly, looking at me like I’m crazy.
I don’t blame her. What I’m saying is batshit crazy.
“What… why—”
I hold my hands up in the hope she’ll hear me out rather than laugh in my face and walk out.
“You have to understand, I’m under pressure from the team. Apparently, it would look good if we were to stay married. Say that when we met and fell for each other right away. You know I’m trying to clean up my reputation, not that that’s your problem, but you could really help me with this.”
She frowns. “First, I don’t see how that’s my problem, like you acknowledged. You fucked up, not me. And second, what’s in it for me?”
I proceed carefully. “Remember how you got some bad press from your wedding… problem? And that your mom was mad that it reflected poorly on the family?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, think of the story. Things go south with old Andy the cheater, and thank goodness for that. You turn around and meet the man of your dreams. Bam. Past forgotten, everyone is cheering for you.”
“I can kind of see what you’re saying.” She nods slowly, running the scenario through her mind.
I’m trying to focus but damn, she’s pretty with all that long dark hair and those light brown eyes. If I’d seen her in a bar or in some completely different context, I’d hit on her. Probably be unsuccessful, though. Pretty sure she’s not the kind of woman who’d be down with a pickup booty call.
Although she did board a plane with me to Vegas and marry my ass there. So who the hell knows.
I see something out of the corner of my eye, and find a couple teenage girls looming over our table, giggling and shimmying their shoulders. “Oh my God,” one of them squeaks. “Are you Rake Hanson?”
Shit. Talk about bad timing. I don’t mind when fans approach me, especially young ones. But right now? I’m making the pitch of my life to a cynical hardass, and I’ve never been good at multitasking. Unless I’m on the ice, that is.
I smile politely. “Yes. I’m Rake Hanson.”
“Would you… would you autograph my… back?” one asks while the other laughs like her friend is hilarious.
She bends over and pulls the back of her shirt up.
I shake my head. “No. No, I will not. I will, however, autograph a piece of paper. If you have one.”
They grab a napkin from our table and thrust it at me. “Here. Sign this.”
“Do you have anything to write with?”
They look at me blankly.
Petal sighs. “I do. Hold on.” She reaches onto her backpack and passes me a pen.
I scribble my name on the napkin and hand it to the girls, who take it with wide eyes, like they just scored a winning lottery ticket or something.
“Thank you,” they gush, and finally turn to leave us. But not before dropping a little bomb. “God, can you believe he’s with her? Isn’t that the lady who works at Twisted Hearts?”
The other one giggles. “They should call it ‘lonely hearts.’”
They break into peals of laughter and settle into a sofa on the other side of the room.
“You know, that’s just disgraceful behavior,” I say, getting to my feet. “I’m going to give them a little lesson in manners. It’s one thing if people are dicks to me. But they don’t get to do that to you.”
Petal waves her hand in a no big deal fashion. “They’re idiots. I couldn’t care less about them. Don’t bother.”
Why am I not surprised that Petal isn’t fazed by something like this, that she doesn’t let a couple punks throw her off? Hell, I’m liking her more every minute.
Which is not part of the plan.
“I’m sorry about that,” I say.
“Let’s get back to our conversation. Or should I say our deal?” she says with a glint in her eye.
I’ll be damned. Do I really have her considering my proposal? I honestly never thought that in a million years would she agree, as much as I’d hoped she would. It’s not a small thing to ask, to be fake married. I have no idea how we’ll pull it off or what the logistics will look like.
But I’ll start by getting a yes from her.
“So I take it you have not contacted an attorney?” she asks, wiggling one eyebrow.
I grimace. “I have not.”
“You told me you would.”
“I did tell you that before I considered the idea of staying married. Look, if you absolutely want out, we’ll bail on the whole thing and get divorced. But if you could consider helping me with this, even if for a short period of time, I’d be very grateful.”
She leans back in her chair, arms crossed. “What if I agree?”
Hot damn.
I reach into my pocket and pull out a folded sheath of papers. “You need to sign this. It basically says you agree to go along with the ruse until we jointly decide to end it. And that you’ll keep it confidential.”
She presses her lips together. “I’ll do it.”
Fuck yes.
“On one condition,” she adds.
“What? Tell me what you want.”
She waves her pen at me, the same one I used to sign the napkin autograph. “No funny business. We might be married, but that doesn’t mean I’m available for nook-nook.” She gestures at herself, singling out her chest and crotch. “This is off-limits.”
“Fine. I will keep my hands to myself. But you have to promise to do the same. I’m not just some piece of meat, you know.”
That gets her and she laughs. I like it. “Fair enough. Do I have to move in with you?”
“That’s what married people do, right? Live under the same roof?”
She passes me the last unused napkin on our table. “Write down your address. I’ll be there tomorrow. But I’m taking the guest bedroom. You better have one.”
“I do,” I say. “I appreciate this, Petal. I really do. And now I’ve got to get back to the city.”
I bend to give her a kiss on the cheek, which she doesn’t seem to mind, and look out the window of the coffee shop to see a couple paparazzi waiting. Jesus, those guys can track anyone, anywhere. It’s incredible.
“Hey, you never got a gift for your neighbor,” she says with a smirk.
“Yeah, oh well,” I say, shrugging. “Guess that means I’ll have to come back.”