Chapter 10 Paige
Paige
“Holy shit, girl, I would switch sides for you. I never considered myself a vagina lover in the sexual sense but for you…”
“Who is this?” My voice comes out a croak, having just woken up.
“Pippa.”
“Hey, Pip. What are you talking about?” Brushing my hair from my face, I roll onto my back, squinting at the vibrant morning sun flooding through the crack in the curtains.
“I woke up to find this fucking fantastic pic of you in that dress.” She’s gushing, and I search my memory for an inkling of what she’s talking about. “I mean, you told me about the dress, but Paige, you in the dress. Dynamite! I bet Mr. Rothwell couldn’t keep his hands off you.”
Then it dawns on me. When I got home, before taking off the dress last night, I snapped a picture and sent it to Pippa. I laugh and stretch.
“Aww, thanks, babe. It is a spectacular dress.” I glance to the red heap of silken fabric on my bedroom floor where I’d carelessly left it in my delirious desire to sleep. Thank goodness for dry cleaners. “Can we talk later?”
“Why are you ditching me?” Offended, her voice slides into a husky whisper. “Oh! Is Zach in bed with you?”
“No, he isn’t.”
“Argh. Why not? And if not, then why are you trying to get rid of me?”
“How much coffee have you had? You’re going a mile a minute and trying to keep up with you is hurting my head.”
Clutching my head, I groan and push into sitting, my legs now dangling over the side of the bed.
“I’m tired and you woke me up. I don’t care that it’s eight in the morning, I don’t have to work until two this afternoon. This morning is mine to sleep in.”
The thought of working on Saturday sucks. I don’t do it often but with my job, weekends are easier for some of my clients.
Today I’ve got an appointment with the Bergmans, newlyweds planning for their custom-built home. I’m walking them through three design boards for their kitchen. It’s the last room for them to decide on before we move to the upstairs.
Mom’s their interior decorator and I’ve only recently joined the team. My mother asked me to keep things moving while she’s away over the coming months.
I’m loving the project, so far, and creating the design boards is the best part. I always think of it as getting paid to put together Pinterest boards. This afternoon’s appointment should be fun although Mom has mentioned that the Bergmans can be indecisive.
“You can sleep when you’re dead. Talk.” Pippa yanks me from thoughts of how to lead the Bergmans to a swift decision.
“You’re mean.” I pout, slapping my feet against the wooden floor on my way to the bathroom. I’m up, so I might as well get coffee.
“No, I’m not. You love me. Now talk. Tell me all things Zachary. I’ve been more than patient waiting for you to tell me more.”
My stomach twists and I inwardly groan. “Pip—”
I’m about to preface what I’ll say with “Please don’t tell Drew,” when I realize that’s not fair or possible. He’s her husband and I can’t ask her to keep things from him.
So, for the first time in my life, I don’t tell my best friend the whole truth. I don’t tell her about the arrangement I have with Zachary Rothwell.
“Right now, there really isn’t anything to tell. I went to him for help and he asked me out.”
“And?” Her question hangs in the air as I grapple with what to say next, but she beats me to the punch. “Do you like him?”
“Yeah.” It isn’t a complete lie. But I don’t tell her that everything is fake.
It’s only been days as his fake love interest and I’m already rethinking my sanity.
Of their own accord, my fingers drift to the very lips he kissed last night. Zach kissed the life out of me and thank goodness he had me in his arms because my legs wouldn’t have been able to hold me up.
I may not be lying to Pippa, more like an omission of the truth. But the only lie I’m telling is to myself. I do like Zach and I liked kissing him very much. Way more than I should—and why he kissed me still bothers me.
Our arrangement is for show. There was no reason to kiss me last night. It only complicates and confuses things.
“Are you seeing him again?” Pippa asks.
“Most probably.” Hitting speaker, I wash my face, brush my teeth, and decide what to wear.
“You’re killing me, Paige. What do you mean most probably? Did he or did he not ask you out again?”
“He said he’d call me.”
Again, not a lie. Zach will call, this I know, needing me for another function or something.
And then there’s Nan and Morgan. His grandmother joined the tail end of a conversation I was having last night about the Rothwell Foundation and she was intrigued with what I had to say.
The big surprise of the night was Morgan Rothwell.
She was easily the most down-to-earth person there and while she was Nan’s “date” for the evening, she stayed by my side for most of it.
Although, I got the impression I was more of a support for her than she was for me. Nonetheless, she was loads of fun and she, too, promised we’d see each other again.
“Okay, since you’re clearly holding back, I’ll stop bugging you. But I’m not done.” My best friend is dejected and it’s a kick to the gut.
“Sorry, Pip. I need coffee and there really isn’t anything to say right now. Call you later?”
“Yeah, laters, babe.” She hangs up and I traipse downstairs for caffeine.
Pippa’s my person. We talk about nothing and everything, and I desperately want to tell her everything about Zach. She’d have an opinion on the whole fake relationship arrangement and without hesitation would tell me if I’m out of my mind.
Who am I kidding? I am out of my mind. Especially now that I’m starting to like spending time with him.
It would be one thing if this deal ends once I’m rid of my landlord.
Zach’s lawyer is moving lightning fast. I got a copy of the letter they sent Joel this past week, and he came over on Thursday to fix the front door without incident.
Admittedly, I left before he arrived, and Tom oversaw the work. He told me Joel didn’t say a word and was gone in under thirty minutes. If things keep going this way, Joel Hummel will be a bad memory soon.
But like Zach said, my end of the deal will take longer, and come to think of it, I still can’t comprehend what’s in it for him.
Now that I know a little more about his world and business, thanks to the dinner last night, his reason for making the deal doesn’t make sense.
How on earth could a fake relationship give him what he wants?
My Saturday doesn’t go as planned. The meeting with the Bergmans is supposed to be two hours and then I’m meeting Claire, Pippa’s younger sister, for yoga and dinner.
But the Bergmans are a disaster. The newest Mrs. Bergman—she’s the third—can’t make up her mind to save her life and Mr. Bergman couldn’t care less to help speed things up. Our appointment lasts four hours.
By the time I leave the sweet but crazy couple, I’ve missed yoga, have a headache, and don’t want to speak to another living soul. Fortunately, Claire understands.
Once I grab food for dinner, I don’t make it home until after seven at which point a long, hot bath and early to bed with a book sounds like a great idea.
After dinner, I clean up the kitchen, turn off the lights, and lock up at a little before eight.
While the hot water fills the tub, I grab a pair of comfy terry cloth shorts and a cotton tank from my bedroom and set the book I plan to read on my nightstand.
A gratified smile stretches across my face as I sink into the bathtub and close my eyes. I can’t say how long I lie in the tub for, but my fingers are prune-like when my eyes pop open at a noise coming from beyond the bathroom door. It sounds like something fell.
If I had a pet, a cat or dog, I wouldn’t think anything of the sound, but I live alone. At first, I hesitate, questioning if I should check it out or not. But in the end, I heard something. There isn’t music playing where maybe I could have been mistaken.
I drain the bathtub and the water swirls and gurgles down the drain, then I get out to dry and dress. Before opening the bathroom door, I grab my phone like a weapon.
The first thing I notice is the light. In addition to the bedside lamp, the ceiling light in my bedroom is on. It was off when I went into the bathroom.
A heart-stopping chill spreads through me as all the tension-melting magic of my bath vanishes. And as if that isn’t bad enough, I shudder when my gaze lands on my sage-green slip dress lying flat on my bed, black heels on the floor just below.
But that’s not the worst of it. My pink lace bra and panties are also laid out on the bed. It’s as if I put the clothes there with the intention of wearing them.
I didn’t.
There’s no second-guessing if someone has broken into my house. This is Joel, the landlord, and he could still be here.
I’m calling the police.
Just then the shrill ringing of my phone kicks my pulse into overdrive and I nearly drop the device as I release a hair-raising scream.
Zachary Rothwell’s name lights up the screen and I feverishly hit the button, blinking back the tears threatening to slide down my face.
“Paige, it’s Zach—” I cut him off before he has a chance to say another word.
My insides are a jumble and my body trembles with the threat of Joel Hummel jumping from the shadows at any moment.
“Help me.”