3. The Best Bad Idea #2
“Where is the fun in that? Go ahead, I’m listening. Your aunt’s proposal.”
“Right. My aunt is retiring and wants a family member to take over the studio. It has a storied history in Sparkwood and a long roster of clients. Blah, blah, blah. But financially, I’d be set for life. Plus, I’d be back in the dance world again.”
A small smile plays on my lips. I can see Mina leading a class, her hair in a bun as she teaches little girls to dance. “Sounds perfect.”
“Except she doesn’t want some single girl taking over the studio.
She wants a pillar of the community, complete with the husband and white picket fence.
A fucking facade of Sparkwood perfection.
I figured I could talk her out of it, because I have so many ideas for the studio.
But then my cousin, who damn near flunked out of ballet 101, shows up wearing some ostentatious diamond and crowing about Mr .
Wall Street. Suddenly, she’s the perfect candidate. At least by my aunt’s standards.”
Seems this transaction is nowhere near as cut and dried as I first expected.
I run a hand over my bearded jaw. “You’re competing with your cousin for the studio? That’s diabolical.”
“Sick, isn’t it? I’m not even sure if Aunt Bitsy is seriously considering me at all or is just having fun messing with my head.”
“Maybe she knows you’re the best choice. Ever think of that?”
A blush blooms on Mina’s cheeks at my statement, only upping her cuteness factor. “I needed to hear that. Thank you.”
“So, why me?” Okay, unexpected question. Have I wondered? Of course, but I didn’t plan to announce it aloud. “I just happened to be the right single guy at the right time. Is that it?”
If this is just a deal, if I was the first available guy she saw, then that alleviates any further discussion.
The kiss becomes transactional. Simple.
So why does that concept bother the hell out of me?
Mina paces the small space, her nerves evident. “No. I mean, I don’t know. My mother wanted me to pretend my cousin was my fiancé. Could you imagine?”
“Wouldn’t your aunt figure that out pretty quick?”
“Bitsy doesn’t know anyone on my father’s side. Doesn’t care to, either. She hates him for stealing my mom away. She was her golden child. Loved her like a daughter. Until she had the audacity to fall for a blue-collar mechanic.”
“Doesn’t sound like love to me.”
“Well, that’s the only love Aunt Bitsy knows. Love that looks good on paper.”
And there is no way that I am anywhere close to what Bitsy wants for Mina. In fact, I’m the antithesis of her perfect guy.
A fact which amuses and enrages me in equal measure.
“Was our one time showing enough to convince her?”
“Hardly, but I can’t ask you for more. I just wanted to apologize.”
Here’s my out. My chance to walk away and leave Mina—and the dance studio—to their fate.
But that’s something I can’t do.
“What do you need from me? I’m happy to help, but I’d like access to the playbook.”
Mina bites her lip again. “She mentioned getting together to have dinner. She wants to get to know you.”
“You mean drill me?”
“Pretty much. Doesn’t that sound like a blast?”
“Well, I think I can manage one dinner.”
“Really? You’d do that for me?”
Sweets, I’d do a lot more than that.
“Absolutely. We’re friends, right?”
The instant I say it, I detest the way it tastes. I’m not sure what we are at this point, but that kiss was legions away from friendly.
The smile falls from her face. “Friends. Yes, we are. At least I hope we are. Praying my impulsive kiss didn’t screw things up.”
“A good kiss is always welcome.”
“Was it a good kiss, though?”
“You don’t think it was?”
I’m willing to offer a replay, if she has doubts.
No, Braden, you will not go there. Even if she is fucking gorgeous when she’s flustered.
A bloom of color once again spreads across Mina’s face. “I thought it was wonderful, although I have little experience in that area.”
“I doubt you have any difficulty with men. ”
It’s true. A woman like Mina will have scads of men clamoring for her attention. She looks like a runway model, the kind of beauty that can walk into any bar, anywhere, and demand the attention of any man.
And get it, too.
She laughs, averting her gaze. “You’d be wrong.”
Agree to disagree, but it’s time to get this conversation back on track.
“So, dinner with your aunt, where I play the part of a loving and devoted fiancée.”
“Think you can fake it for that long?”
“I’ll try.” At her scowl, I drape an arm around her shoulder, giving her a one-armed squeeze. “Piece of cake, sweets. Just let me know when and where.”
“You’re the best. Do you think we should figure out our backstory?”
“Our what?”
“How we met, fell in love, that sort of thing?”
Ah, the details. I glance at my clock, noting the time. “As much as I’d love to hash out the intricacies of our fake relationship, I have a client. How about this? You come up with the story and I’ll go along with it, okay?”
“Can I make you over the moon crazy about me?”
“Obviously.” Truth is, it’s not far off.
If only she were a few years older and ready to settle down, this wouldn’t feel like a ruse, but maybe a dress rehearsal for something bigger.
Something painfully and beautifully real.
But she’s not, and this is nothing more than a contrived situation to finagle a dance studio from her aunt’s clutches and into Mina’s rightful possession.
Mina reaches out and grasps my hands, inching closer until her face is a hair’s breadth from mine. “I promise you won’t regret it, and I’ll make it up to you. Just let me know how. ”
I bite my tongue and shift my weight, fully aware that other body parts are waking up with Mina’s breathy statement.
Do not go there, Braden. Keep it PG. Hell, keep it G rated.
“No worries. I’m happy to help.” Grabbing my phone, I open the contacts section. “I need your number, though. It would seem mighty strange for me to not know my fiancée’s number.”
Mina giggles as we exchange digits.
“There.” I show her the phone, with her nickname as Wifey. “Now it’s official.”
She rolls her eyes. “I was expecting the Old Ball and Chain.”
“Not until our first-year anniversary. Gotta have the honeymoon period.”
“Need to have a honeymoon first.”
Fuck, there goes my dick again, waking up and taking notice when he should be sleeping.
I need to go… before I offer Mina a repeat performance with no familial interruptions.
“Anything else before I go?” I motion to the door, equally desperate to leave as I am to stay by her side.
“One thing. If you happen to hear of anyone needing a roommate, will you let me know? Mom has an offer on the house.”
“So, you’re homeless, too?”
“Soon. I suppose I could stay in the shed like the resident bog witch.”
Here’s what I should do—tell her I’ll keep an ear out for anyone looking for a roommate and ease out of the office.
Definitely don’t offer the spare bedroom in my house.
That would be a dangerous, albeit delicious, idea. Terrible, very bad idea.
Guess which one I choose ?
Shrugging, I tug a hand through my hair. “What the hell. We’re getting married. You might as well live with me.”
Her eyes widen. “I didn’t mean?—”
“It makes sense, no? We’re friends and for the interim, we’re engaged. It’s a good house with plenty of space. Yours if you want it.”
“Really?”
“Absolutely.”
And with that one word, I seal my fate. This beautiful blonde temptress is now going to be living under the same roof. Complete with all her soft smiles, long legs, and flirtatious looks.
I. Am. Fucked.
Mina squeals and wraps her arms around me, pressing a kiss to my cheek. “Thank you, Braden. I’ll bake and clean and?—”
“We’ll figure it out.”
“We will.”
I lean in and place a gentle kiss to her forehead. It’s a simple gesture to reassure her I’ve got her, even if I’m barely holding it together myself.
She doesn’t flinch or shy away. Just looks at me like I’m her whole damn world.
God help me.
“I better get out there before my client cancels.”
“Go. I’ll text you later. Have the best day, Braden.” Mina walks out with a bounce in her step as I scrub my face with my hands.
This is going to be a disaster. But I can’t say no to her. I don’t think I ever could.