4. Trent #2
“You didn’t tell me your grandmother is Deana Saunders,” Natasha hissed to me. “Of Saunders Furniture!”
“I didn’t think it was relevant.”
“She’s been an idol of mine since I learned about her in design school! No wonder this place is so gorgeous, with all these dark woods and rich pops of color. That’s always been her signature style, hasn’t it?”
Nana Dee reached us and immediately grabbed Natasha’s hand.
“It is so lovely to meet you, Mrs. Saunders,” Natasha said. “An honor, really.”
“Oh, please call me Dee. Everyone does. I am just so delighted to meet you.”
“You are?” Natasha asked, bemused.
“It’s not every day that Trent brings a girl home.”
Oh shit, I thought at the same time Natasha’s eyes widened.
She seemed to make the same realization I did.
Nana Dee thought Natasha was my girlfriend.
Ha! That was a laugh. As if I’d be stupid enough to sign myself up to be bait for this Hellcat.
I’d sooner lock myself in a cage with an actual tiger.
But also…fuck! Dee looked so damn elated.
She hadn’t smiled like that for weeks. How was I supposed to ruin her excitement when I already knew she’d had a rough morning?
“Oh, we’re not—” Natasha started to say as I jumped in.
“—putting labels on it yet.” I tucked my arm around her shoulders, squeezing even as I could feel her trying to shrug out of my grip. “We’re still getting to know each other. But hey, look—Natasha brought us bagels. We should eat them before they get cold, right?”
“Of course. Kitchen’s just through here,” Nana Dee said, leading the way.
“You go ahead and get the coffee started,” I called after her. “I’m just going to give Natasha a quick tour.”
“Don’t keep an old lady waiting,” Nana Dee insisted. “I want to hear all about how you two met.”
“Yep,” I said. “We’ll be right there.”
The moment we were alone, Natasha threw my arm off her shoulder. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“Okay, just hear me out.”
“Hear you out?” Her voice kept climbing higher as her indignation grew. “We are most definitely not dating. Why the hell would you make it seem like we were?”
“You saw how happy it made her.”
“So?” Natasha said, looking at me like I’d sprouted a second head.
“So?” I repeated. “Seriously? You say this woman is your idol, and your only response to the idea that you could make her happy is ‘so’?”
She flushed, but her chin jutted out a little, and I could tell she was digging in her heels. “So, she’s in for a disappointment when she realizes I can’t stand you and wouldn’t date you in a million years,” she shot back.
“That’s quite a change from the other day,” I taunted. “What was it you said then, about your ‘assets’?”
“I told you that message was a mistake!” she hissed. “I never meant to send it.”
“Sure, you say that now…”
“Enough,” she bit out. “Clearly coming here at all was a huge mistake.” She turned toward the door.
Goddamnit. I couldn’t let her leave. Not like this. Not when Nana Dee was waiting for us in the kitchen, showing real enthusiasm for the first time in weeks. I was going to have to get real with her. It might be the only way I could convince her to play along. She needed to know what was at stake.
“My grandmother was diagnosed with congestive heart failure a couple months ago,” I stated—stopping Natasha in her tracks. Slowly, she turned to face me again.
“Is it treatable?” she asked.
“Yes, with surgery…but she’s decided against it.
” Natasha’s eyes widened, and I pressed my advantage.
“She’s given up on life—but I’m going to change her mind, no matter what it takes.
I’ll do anything to get her engaged and interested again.
Whether that means tracking down her favorite furniture designer and commissioning new pieces for her, or… ”
“Or faking a relationship with someone who is definitely not your girlfriend?” she replied, though she didn’t sound quite as angry about it now.
“Or faking a relationship with someone I can convince to pretend to be my girlfriend.”
“You’re out of your mind.”
Maybe, I thought, watching the way her eyes flicked past me to the sitting room. I stepped aside so she could appreciate the massive antique display cabinet that housed all of Dee’s fine china. “Yes, before you ask, it’s one-of-a-kind.”
“It’s beautiful,” she said.
I turned into the room, and she followed.
Large bookcases lined the far wall. The rest of the space was filled with wingback chairs and a grand piano.
Natasha’s eyes went right to the desk we’d messaged about.
The one she’d created that Dee loved. She ran her hands along one beveled edge, like she was petting it.
“Does she have a fondness for antiques?”
“Yes. Or commissioned pieces with glass inlay or marquetry.”
“I noticed the stained glass windows,” Natasha said. “Your grandmother has fabulous taste.”
“Which she’d probably love to discuss with you,” I said. “I’m sure it would make her day to know you learned about her in design school. There’s lots you could pick her brain about. If, you know, you agreed to do me this one little favor.”
“It’s not exactly a little favor,” she muttered, though I could tell she was torn, worrying at her bottom lip in a way that was very appealing. She wanted the opportunity to talk with Dee again, to chat about furniture and designs and the commission she’d originally come here for.
“Fine,” she relented with a huff. “I’ll pretend to be your girlfriend. But only in front of your grandmother—and you’d better keep your hands to yourself.”
“Done,” I agreed, relieved she was being more reasonable than she’d been in the coffee shop. “Let’s go have breakfast.”
I escorted Natasha into the kitchen, taking her hand for show. Nana Dee smiled, and Natasha smiled back, though she pulled away the moment we sat down, leaving a good bit of distance between us.
“I didn’t tell you the best part,” I said to Nana Dee as we tucked into bagels and fruit. “Natasha was actually the one who made your desk.”
“The L-shaped one?” Nana Dee said, equal parts excited and impressed.
“That’s the one,” I said.
Natasha’s smile widened. “I really enjoyed making that piece. I’m glad it makes you happy.”
“Natasha and I were talking about some other pieces she could make for you.”
“Oh, that would be wonderful!” Nana Dee said. “I’ve been meaning to redecorate the library.”
Natasha hummed. “I’m seeing some art nouveau bookshelves in your future. Maybe something to match your desk.”
Nana Dee beamed. “I’d love that. Do you source your materials locally?”
“As much as I can. I always try to make my furniture sustainably, so that means using recycled materials as much as possible, including repurposed wood. The glass will probably be the most difficult to find.”
“There’s quite a movement lately toward sustainable production,” Nana Dee agreed.
“It was that A-list Hollywood guy who started posting about all the furniture he was making on Snug,” I grumbled, unable to fully hide my annoyance. I glanced at Natasha. “You know the one.”
She nodded. “Kyle Landing.”
“Yes, with the hair. Puts his dogs in all his videos.”
“I know,” she said with a sigh that put my teeth on edge. “I follow his Snug and Instagram accounts. He posts different videos on each, you know.”
“He definitely knows how to market his products,” Dee said. “And how to reach this sustainability crowd.”
A crowd that had grown massively, thanks to the actor’s star power making sustainability the hot trend.
Now all the big companies, Saunders Furniture included, were scrambling to catch up.
We’d had more meetings about it lately than I could count.
I wasn’t about to leave money on the table by leaving a sizable new market untapped—but that didn’t mean I had the right people in place yet to move anything forward.
“I think it’s great,” Natasha said. “He’s bringing a lot of visibility to the issue.”