Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
Esteban
Me: Hey, it’s your fiancé. I was wondering if you’re free tonight to have our first business meeting.
Istare at the message like it might bite me back. I’ve typed it, deleted it, reworded it, added a winky face then deleted it because I’m not trying to get murdered by Noah, and finally just hit send before my dignity took another hit.
Now I’m sitting in my office like an idiot on a Tuesday afternoon, phone in hand, tapping my pen against my notepad like I’m waiting for a girl to text me back in ninth grade.
Why the hell am I nervous?
This isn’t a date. This is fake. I run a hand down my face and refocus on the quote I’m supposed to send a client by tomorrow morning. I’ve written maybe three lines in the past half hour. Pathetic.
I glance around my office and then up at the framed photo of me and Noah on the day we opened the company. The two of us grinning like dumbasses. Back when life was simpler. No fake engagements, no weird fluttery stomach feelings, no Eva looking like a damn snack in those jeans and flowy blouse.
Stop thinking about her.
I grab my notepad again and start jotting down questions for our meeting.
Things like: How did we meet? She probably won’t want me to say, “I caught her stealing gum when she was seven.” When did we start dating?
Who proposed? And how? Because that better be some award-winning story if McNeal’s gonna buy it.
It hits me that for all the years I’ve known Eva, I don’t actually know her.
Before she moved away, Eva was just Noah’s little sister.
The tagalong kid with bright eyes, always running around in mismatched socks, trying to keep up with us like she was part of the crew.
Since she’s eight years younger than us, I only saw her when I was over at Noah’s place, which was a lot back then.
She was sweet, always asking questions, always smiling. Just a cute little girl in my eyes.
Back then, Noah would threaten to gut anyone who even joked about looking at her the wrong way. He wasn’t just protective, he was borderline feral when it came to Eva and Julia. We all got the message loud and clear: they were off-limits.
She moved away when she was eighteen and honestly, she faded into the background of my mind.
Just one of those people you remember fondly but don’t think about too often.
And ever since then, she was just Noah’s little sister in stories.
The genius who got to study science at a great university.
The influencer with a million followers.
But now? After ten years without laying eyes on her? I’m in trouble.
Eva’s not a little girl anymore. She’s a grown woman, with confidence, curves, and that kind of quiet fire that sneaks up on you. She’s stunning. And funny. And smart. And every time she talks, I find myself paying more attention than I should.
I can’t be thinking like this. I have to get my head on straight because if I don’t, this fake engagement might turn into a real disaster, for both of us.
My phone buzzes.
My fake girl: Hi. I’m free.
I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding and type back quickly.
Me: Can you meet me at my house? I can make something to eat.
She replies almost immediately.
My fake girl: Sure.
God help me.
Me: What do you think about six p.m.?
My fake girl: Sounds good. See you later.
I toss my phone on the desk and lean back in my chair, staring at the ceiling.
Six. That gives me four hours to clean the house, cook, and maybe change my shirt like... three times.
I groan and drag a hand through my hair.
Why did I offer food? Why didn’t I say coffee? Why didn’t I suggest we meet at Josy’s Sweet Shop like a normal fake couple?!
This is fine. It’s all fine.
I just have to keep things professional. No flirting. No staring at her lips like a moron.
This is just a meeting.
With Eva.
In my house.
Alone.
Totally fine.
I glance around my house one last time, checking every corner like I’m expecting a visit from the damn president.
The rice and beans are done, steaming gently on the stove, filling the place with that comforting, home-cooked smell.
The chicken still needs a few more minutes in the oven, but it’s golden and juicy, exactly how I wanted it.
Now I’m focused on the last part of the plan: the tostones.
I’ve got two green plantains left and not a lot of time to work with.
It’s five fifty, and Eva’s supposed to be here in ten minutes.
I move fast, slicing through the thick skin with a knife and peeling it back with my thumb.
Plantains always make me work harder than they should, but I’m not about to mess this up, not tonight.
I’m halfway through cutting the rounds when there’s a knock at the door.
Shit.
I glance at the clock again like maybe I read it wrong. Nope. Still five fifty.
She’s early.
I wipe my hands on a dish towel and hurry to the door, trying to play it cool. But my heart’s doing this weird fast-slow thing in my chest, and I can already feel the heat of the oven mixing with the heat creeping up my neck.
I open the door and there she is.
Wearing jeans that should be illegal and a black top that fits her like a second skin. Her hair is pulled up, leaving her neck exposed, and she’s smiling like we’re just two friends hanging out.
“Hey,” she says, her voice light, casual. “Hope I’m not too early.”
“You are,” I say before I can stop myself, then instantly shake my head and laugh. “But it’s cool. I’m almost done cooking. Come in.”
She steps inside, and just like that, my house feels different. Brighter. Warmer.
She glances around, taking it all in. Her eyes roam over the space, inspecting everything from the framed art on the walls to the throw pillows on the couch. I’m glad I let Violet and Josy take the reins with decorating, Eva’s expression tells me she approves.
Turning, she gives me a smile that does something weird to my chest. “The house is beautiful. Josy told me you did most of the work yourself, and I’m seriously impressed.”
I try to play it cool, but damn, it feels good hearing that from her.
“I’m glad you like it. I love it too. Spent the last six months working on it and finally moved in a few weeks ago.
I was going crazy at my apartment. My neighbor’s kid thought he was the next big rock star, used to wake me up every morning with a full-on drum solo. ”
Eva chuckles, her eyes lighting up. “Aww, that’s awful. Poor you.”
“Yeah, I barely survived.” I grin, then nod toward the kitchen. “I’m just finishing dinner. The rice and beans are ready, the chicken needs a few more minutes in the oven, and I just need to fry the tostones.”
Eva’s face lights up. “Wait, tostones? I love tostones. When I lived in Florida, there was this Puerto Rican restaurant that I was obsessed with. Their food was the only thing that made being alone bearable. Please tell me you made the real deal.”
I laugh at her excitement. “Of course. White rice, pink beans, pollo al horno, and tostones.”
“That sounds amazing. Do you need help?” she asks as we head toward the kitchen. When she walks in, she gasps. “Wow.”
I can’t help but smile. Yeah, my kitchen’s a work of art. I spent more money on it than I should’ve, but it was worth every penny. I grew up helping my mom in the kitchen, and I always knew that when I had a place of my own, the kitchen had to be perfect.
“Alright,” I say, handing her an apron. “You want to help? You’re going to have to earn your tostones.”
She slips the apron over her head, laughing. “I’m not scared of a little oil burn. Teach me your ways, sensei.”
I hand her a green plantain and a small knife. “Alright, first test: if you complain about how hard these are to peel, I get to tease you endlessly.”
“Bring it on,” she says, brow furrowed in concentration as she starts peeling. “You’ll be surprised at my plantain skills.”
I grab the tostonera and start mashing the first batch of already-fried plantains. “So,” I say, trying to sound casual, “what was Florida like? You were there for what, ten years?”
“Yeah. I went for college and ended up staying for grad school and work,” she says, tossing a peeled slice into the bowl like she’s done it a hundred times.
“What did you study again?”
“Cosmetic chemistry,” she says, clearly proud. “I formulate skincare products. I love it, but... sometimes it was lonely. I had friends, but it never felt like home. I missed Honey Springs. My family. Familiar faces.”
I glance at her, trying not to show how much that hits me. It’s weirdly comforting to know she’s felt that pull back home too.
“I get that,” I say, dropping the flattened tostones back in the oil. “When I moved back to work with Noah, I didn’t realize how much I wanted to settle down. Build something real.”
“You mean the business?” she asks, grabbing a towel to wipe her hands.
“Yeah.” I nod. “Noah and I have been grinding non-stop to grow the company, and this deal we’re working on now could seriously change everything.”
Humming thoughtfully, Eva tilts her head. “I get that. I’ve been working on something of my own too, something I’m really passionate about.”
“Yeah?” I raise an eyebrow. “What is it?”
“Skincare." She lights up in a way that makes me stop what I’m doing just to watch her. “I mean, not just using it, I’ve been working on creating my own line. Products that are clean, effective, and make people feel good in their own skin.”
“That’s badass.” I blink, impressed.
“Thanks.” She laughs. “It started a few years ago. I was in school, learning all this fascinating stuff about ingredients, what works, what doesn’t, and I started making videos explaining it.
Just simple stuff, like breaking down labels or comparing products.
I didn’t think anyone would care, but people did.
The followers grew, and eventually I started getting paid to make content. ”
“So you’re famous?” I smirk.
“No!” She groans, laughing. “Not even close. I’m just a content creator. That’s it.”
“Uh-huh.” I grin as I flip the tostones. “Your brother mentioned it once and said you had a ton of followers. I don’t know much about social media, but that sounds kind of famous to me.”
“He exaggerates.” She shakes her head, still smiling. “But it’s been a fun ride. I love it, but that’s not my end goal. My dream is to launch my own brand. Something real. Something that educates and helps people feel confident.”
“That’s solid,” I say, genuinely impressed. “You’ve got a plan?”
“I do. Our skin is our largest organ, and most people don’t even think twice about what they’re putting on it. I just want to make skincare less confusing. Less intimidating. And maybe a little fun.”
“Mission accomplished,” I say, pointing at the tostones. “You’re already making this fun.”
She laughs again, and it’s the kind of sound I wouldn’t mind hearing a lot more of. “Good. Because if I’m going to be your fake fiancée, I better be entertaining.”
“Oh, you are,” I say, unable to keep the smile off my face. “And then some.”
“So, tell me about this deal that you guys are working on?” Eva asks, changing the subject as she leans casually against the counter, staring at me while I keep working with the tostones.
“Noah and I have put everything into it,” I say, wiping my hands on a kitchen towel. “This deal with McNeal? It’s everything. If we land it, we can expand; bigger crews, better contracts, real growth. But if we screw it up…?”
Her expression softens, and her voice is steady and sure when she says, “You won’t. You’re good at what you do.”
I look down for a second, giving myself a moment before nodding. “Still, I need everything to go smoothly. And that includes our fake engagement. We’ve got to be believable.”
“Well, lucky for you, I’m very convincing.” She tilts her head, giving me a teasing smile. “Extremely talented fake fiancée. Award-winning, even.”
“Yeah?” I laugh. “What’s your rate?”
“I accept payment in tostones.”
I grab one, still sizzling and golden, and hand it to her. “You drive a hard bargain.”
Taking a bite, she groans like it’s the best thing she’s ever tasted, and fans herself. “Oh my God. Okay, fine. You win. I’m yours.”
I chuckle, but there’s a strange flutter in my chest that I pretend not to notice. “Don’t say things like that, Ross. I might take you seriously.”
“Just keep the tostones coming, and we’ll talk.” She winks at me over her shoulder.
I let myself enjoy the moment before circling back to the reason she’s here.
“But seriously... the McNeal deal? It’s a big one.
He’s this self-made businessman from Florida, sharp guy.
He bought a huge piece of land near Honey Springs and wants to develop a ski resort.
Full thing. Lodges, restaurants, maybe even a small shopping area. We’re talking millions in contracts.”
Eva’s eyes widen a little. “Wow. That’s huge.”
“Yeah. And he’s looking for a local crew he can trust to handle the entire construction. Not just one building, the whole resort. Infrastructure, site planning, design builds… everything. If we land it, we go from a small-town crew to a regional powerhouse.”
“No pressure or anything,” she says with a small smirk.
“Exactly.” I smile tightly. “That’s why this whole fake engagement thing needs to feel real. He’s a family guy, values trust, roots, all that. He wants to work with people who represent stability. If I show up looking like a man building a future with a fiancée by my side, it’ll help.”
She nods slowly, more serious now. “Okay. Got it. We’ll sell it.”
“You sure?”
She squares her shoulders, her expression determined. “Esteban, I told you, I’m in. Let’s make them believe it.”
And just like that, I feel a little less nervous about all of it.