Chapter Nine
How the hell did I end up marrying someone that I had just met?
I fall to my bed and glance over at the luggage that needs unpacking, then drag my eyes across the hall and into the kitchen, where the remainder of my groceries still need to be put away. They’re both going to have to wait. I’m exhausted, hung over, and still in shock.
Waking up in his hotel room this morning was a surreal experience. Not only did we not have sex, but he was a perfect gentleman about it. I can’t say that it didn’t sting when both his body language and actions made it clear that he wasn’t at all interested in me—a stark contrast from the vibes I was getting the night before. Maybe he was nervous? Perhaps he wasn’t sure how to act around me. I know I felt that way.
The thought of Jack makes my stomach flip. I can’t believe he’s going to pay me to be his fake girlfriend for the next two months. When he brought it up this morning at breakfast, my initial thought was absolutely not. The whole idea sounded completely strange and wild. But the more I saw the color of his eyes change and the way his mouth quirked up when he spoke, the more his idea didn’t sound all that bad—getting paid to be some rich, gorgeous guy’s fake girlfriend with some added time in Wine Country? I could make it work.
There’s a buzzing sound next to my ear.
Jack: Hello, Piper, this is your husband.
My husband? What the fuck. A blush at his cheeky comment.
Me: Hi, how are you?
Jack: Just checking in to make sure you made it home safely.
Me: I did. I just got back not too long ago. I’m assuming you made it home safely as well?
I roll over onto my stomach and let my feet float.
Jack: Yeah. I sent you an email with the dates you’ll need to be in Northern California. Did you get it?
Me: I haven’t yet. I’ll take a look later.
I fire off that text, thinking he will continue his flirty small talk.
Jack: Let me know, and we can lock it down. The important events of the harvest season start as early as the end of next week. I’d like you to accompany me to most of them.
Maybe he is the same stiff Jack from this morning? His tone is dry. Or maybe mine is dry? Who the hell knows at this point?
Me: Let me look at my work schedule, and I’ll get back to you.
Jack: Great. Can you get back to me by tomorrow night?
My upper lip lifts, and I arch an eyebrow at the continued formality of our exchange. He’s treating me like a coworker. I guess I am. He is paying me to do a job.
Me: Sure, that’s fine.
Jack: Okay, talk to you then.
I roll my eyes, slide my phone into my pocket, and head into the kitchen. I start putting away the groceries I picked up when my phone vibrates once again, but it’s not a text. I swipe it off the counter and answer.
“Hi, babe.” I tuck the phone into the crook of my neck and continue to put the food away.
“You never called me when you got home?” Bailey complains in a whiny voice.
I’m quiet briefly while my brain slams itself into overtime to think of what I should tell her—or better yet, what I can tell her. I don’t even know what she’d say if I gave her a play-by-play of my alcohol-induced, accidental-marriage, paid-girlfriend weekend. She’d never believe it.
I squeeze the unopened salad dressing bottle. It’s funny that out of our friend group, Lina, Bailey, Avery, and myself—they’d all say I’m most likely to get tangled up in something like this.
“It was an interesting time, actually.”
“Hmm, how so?”
“Well,”—I lean against the kitchen counter—“we ended up missing our flights and hanging out all night in Vegas.”
Silence.
“How did that even happen?”
“Yeah, we spent hours in that restaurant bar just talking. Once we figured out what time it was and missed our flights, we had to stay in Vegas for the night,” I continue.
“Yeah. Let”s talk about that good conversation,” she teases.
I grin, my cheeks burning. “It really was.”
“Keep going!” Her words are fast and breathless. “What happened next? Did you hook up with him? Why am I even asking you that? Of course, you did!”
I giggle. “We didn’t hook up. Surprisingly, I’m glad I didn’t.”
“Am I hearing you right? You gave up the chance to sleep with a guy you have overwhelming chemistry with?” she clarifies in playful disbelief.
“We got drunk and ended up falling asleep in his suite—and in the same bed. But I’m glad that I didn’t. Jack was—is different.” Roxy’s voice pops into my head as soon as my words hit the air. “Everyone will hurt you and eventually leave. No one will be around for you except for me.” I stifle my joy about the connection with a great guy and bury it under a shell I’ve created to hide.
I hear her in a full belly laugh over the phone. “Wow, only you.” She laughs again. “Are you going to see him again then?”
“Maybe. Honestly, the next morning was so awkward that we left it with a simple call you if I’m in town thing.”
“But doesn’t he live out here?”
“He’s moving back to California. His parents own a winery, and his dad just passed away over the summer, so he’s moving back to take over,” I tell her.
I know what I’m doing. If I’ve learned anything from Roxy, it’s how to manipulate people into thinking you’re giving them something they want. I’m giving my best friend what she wants, which is the details from my twenty-four-hour Vegas escapade, without elaborating on the more questionable events of the story.
“Damn, that sucks. But clearly, you two have a little something between you. You’re not going to explore it even a little bit?” she presses.
I suck in my lip, then take my phone in my hand. I feel guilty about lying to her, and it makes sense that she’ll figure out I’m with him in California at some point. Bailey, Lina, Avery, and I talk almost daily. “I think we’ll see each other again. Who knows, maybe I’ll visit Northern California to see him,” I say, making sure she hears the optimism in my voice.
“There you go, now we’re talking.”
I laugh. “I have to let you go. I need a shower, and I haven’t even unpacked yet.”
“Okay, I’ll see you Thursday. Oh, and Avery is on our flight crew heading out too!” she rushes out before we have the chance to hang up.
“I know. I saw that in our group chat. See you in a few days!”
After the shower, I start unpacking. Halfway through a pile of dirty clothes, I remember that Jack said he’d sent an email about when I need to go to California. I grab a quick snack, flop onto my bed again, and open my laptop.
From: [emailprotected]
Subject: Harvest Season Events
Hello Piper,
The following events will occur close together, so you’ll need to come out for at least ten days to two weeks. It would be best if you could be here by the end of next week.
Meet with my mother (yes, you will have to formally meet my mother since we are “dating”)
Wine Growers Kick-Off Event
Harvest Dinner
Bradley Family Wines Crush
Any other small event that comes up during this time frame.
Let me know if that works with your flight schedule. We’ll talk soon.
Thanks,
Jack Bradley
My eyes scan every word of his email, looking for any sign of emotion or flirtatious nature, but there isn’t. Is he my boss now? I don’t recall mentioning that I would be working for him during our initial conversation. He even signed his first and last name at the bottom of the email, like I don’t know his last name is Bradley. What the hell? Technically, it is mine now, too, which is so fucking strange. And even more, it’s not a premade email signature, and he had to have consciously typed that out.
I rub circles into my temples, then flip my hair to the side and remind myself that he is paying me twenty thousand dollars to basically boss me around.
Maybe I do work for him?Fuck.
Luckily for Jack, this week is when I’m putting in my scheduling bids for next month, and it happens to be that my current schedule aligns, so I can take two weeks off starting next week. But I’m not going to make it easy on him.
From: [emailprotected]
Re: Subject: Harvest Season Events
Hello Jack,
Thank you for the email. I will need to move a few things around, but I should be able to make room for you in my schedule.
Your new beck-and-call girl,
Piper Harris-Bradley
I hit send, then flip onto my back, satisfied with my response. Smiling up at the rotating ceiling fan, I hear the chime indicating another email. Rolling back over, I see Jack has already replied. Damn.
From: [emailprotected]
Re: Re: Subject: Harvest Season Events
Good. See you next week.
Your boss, who is definitely not rethinking his hiring choices,
Jack Bradley
Staring at his email, I run through a series of smart-ass comments and comebacks, but I’m too tired. I smile to myself, then finish unpacking.
Bailey, Avery, and I are on our first flight of the day, conducting the preflight checks of the emergency and medical equipment before the passengers start boarding.
“Piper, how’s everything going with Roxy?” Avery asks, resting her arms on top of the seat. Bailey takes a few steps over, occupying the small space in the aisle.
Only Bailey, Avery, and Lina know about the complicated relationship with my mother. I can’t even recall how often they have been my shoulders to cry on after a fight or disagreement.
Sometimes, those fights were from guilt trips for not seeing her as much as I should. Other times, they consisted of Roxy blaming me for her inability to find a good job—which, in her words, is because she had to lovingly sacrifice her education or well-off boyfriends to support me as a child. This particular time, I was trying to stand my ground about paying another month of her rent. She’d quit a job she had as a bank teller because the manager was, in Roxy’s words, on “a high horse.” Whatever the hell that means.
I let out a heavy breath. “It is what it is. She’s never going to change.”
“Did you send her the money like she wanted?” Bailey asks.
“I didn’t want to, but I did. She told me if I didn’t send her rent money, she’d be homeless. When I hesitated, she mentioned all the times she supported me as a child.” I frown. “She’s my mom. I had to do it.”
“Damn. That’s got to be tough to hear from your mom. It’s not like it’s your fault when you’re like, I don’t know—seven?” Avery hisses.
“It’s a mind fuck, that’s for sure.” I wish her eclectic personality came with a warning label for manipulation and emotional immaturity.
Avery frowns and puts an arm around me. “I’m sorry, babe. I know that must be so hard. You know the three of us are always here for you.”
“Yes, I love you all for that, but we all have problems. I can handle Roxy. You lost your parents so young, Avery. I should be grateful that I still have my mom, right?”
Both of my best friends shake their heads in unison.
“No, not at the expense of being treated like she’s always treated you,” Avery snaps back.
“Avery is right. You don’t deserve it,” Bailey adds, her eyes soft as she looks at me.
“I love you both, you know that?” I reach my arms out, hooking them around my friends. The three of us hold each other tightly.
“Wait, make room for invisible Lina!” Avery exclaims.
“Oh yes!” Bailey rounds Avery, extending a side hug into the empty space between them.
“Lina gives the best advice in situations like this.” I smile.