Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
WILLY
I hate lying. I hate owing anyone anything. And most of all, I hate pretending.
Yet why do I actually feel good walking beside Brogan on the Boardwalk, our hands intertwined like we’re on a date?
It’s been hours since we took down the old kitchen cabinets and installed the new ones. Hours since we let manual labor calm us down enough that I said yes when Brogan suggested checking out the Boardwalk together. After all, if we needed our story to stick—that we were dating—we had to at least make an appearance together in public.
It’s a high price to pay, but what choice do I have? My job is on the line and Brogan’s being Brogan, resisting his mother’s attempts at pairing him with the perfect woman. Maybe not his idea of perfect, but perfect for her, I’m sure.
Not that I have to worry about that. Brogan’s a grown man. He can say no .
Still, as inconvenient as it is to pretend that we’re dating, it’s the most excitement I’ve had in years. The last time I was with someone was over three years ago, and ever since then, all I’ve done is work.
“Relax, Willy,” Brogan whispers as he leans closer. “You’re doing great. Just be yourself and everything will be fine.”
I take a deep breath, nodding. Be myself. Right. Easier said than done when you’re pretending to be in love with a man who called you all kinds of names so long ago.
But as we stroll along the Boardwalk, I start to relax, letting myself get caught up in the excitement of the evening. As we sit down to dinner at a cozy seafood restaurant, I can’t help but notice the looks we’re getting from the other patrons. They whisper behind their hands, their eyes wide with curiosity and speculation.
“Looks like we’re the talk of the town,” I mutter, taking a sip of my wine.
Brogan’s eyes sparkle with amusement. “Well, that was the point, wasn’t it? To be seen together, to make everyone believe we’re a couple?”
“I know. It’s just... it’s weird.”
He reaches across the table, taking my hand in his. “Forget about them, Willy. Let’s enjoy ourselves, okay?”
And as the evening goes on, I find myself doing just that. Brogan is charming and attentive, wanting to learn about me and my life since leaving Love Beach right after high school. Whenever I try to steer the conversation to him, he’s vague, only talking about his “brothers” when they’re not on a mission. There’s Trevor who just got “ engaged” minus a ring and Bennett, who’s still with a team in Virginia Beach.
One new thing Brogan did admit to was that he’d recently finished his contract with the Navy and was now working with a private security firm with offices in Virginia Beach and San Diego, California. It’s not what his mother would have wanted for him—she wants him to work for the family business like Preston—but it’s what makes him happy.
“What makes you happy?” he asks as we wander along the Boardwalk after dinner.
“Designing interiors, although I’d really like to expand into eco-friendly initiatives, green energy, and sustainability,” I reply, smiling. “Crystal keeps telling me to open my own firm here in Love Beach but that’s easier said than done.”
“Why is that?”
“You need money.” I pause, realizing I’m talking to someone who probably hasn’t had to worry about money all his life. “And contacts. Clientele. Connections.”
“You have connections.”
“Crystal has connections. I have a job waiting for me in New York.”
“And is that where you’re going after the beach house is finished?”
I nod. “That’s the plan.”
We stop in front of the arcade, the flashing lights and electronic beeps filling the air. The place is a riot of color and nose, with rows of blinking machines and game booths stretching as far as the eye can see .
We play a few games together, challenging each other to see who can score the most tickets. We start with skeeball, laughing as we try to outdo each other’s throws. Brogan’s aim is impressive, but I manage to hold my own, sinking a few balls into the high-point circles.
Next, we move on to the basketball hoops, where Brogan’s height gives him a distinct advantage. He sinks shot after shot, the tickets spilling out of the machine in a steady stream. I try to keep up, but my shots keep bouncing off the rim, much to my frustration.
“Here, let me help you,” Brogan says, moving behind me. He places his hands on my hips, guiding me into the proper stance. “Bend your knees a little, and keep your elbow in.”
I feel a shiver run down my spine at his touch, my skin tingling where his hands rest. I take a deep breath, trying to focus on the hoop and not the warmth of his body pressed against mine.
I release the ball, watching as it arcs through the air and swishes through the net. I let out a whoop of joy, turning to face Brogan with a grin.
“I did it!” I exclaim, bouncing on the balls of my feet.
Brogan grins back, his eyes sparkling with pride. “You sure did. I knew you could do it.”
We continue playing, moving from game to game, racking up tickets as we go. We play air hockey, our competitive streaks coming out as we battle for dominance. We race each other in the car simulators, our laughter echoing through the arcade as we swerve and crash into virtual walls .
As we walk toward the exit an hour later, suddenly I stop in my tracks. Adorning one of the booths we haven’t visited yet are giant teddy bears hanging from the ceiling, fluffy unicorns with rainbow manes, and the most adorable panda I’ve ever seen.
“I’ve always wanted to win one of those big stuffed animals,” I admit, my gaze fixed on the panda bear. “But I always ran out of tokens before I could even win a tiny one. My aim’s terrible and those games are probably rigged anyway.”
Brogan follows my gaze, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Is that a challenge, I hear, Genaro?”
I laugh, shaking my head. “Don’t even think about it, Hollister. I’m not about to let you waste your money trying to win me some oversized stuffed animal I could probably get for half the price online.”
Brogan grins, that cocky smile of his that I’m starting to find more charming than irritating. “Who said anything about wasting money? I’ll have you know, I’m quite the marksman.” He cocks his head toward the array of stuffed animals hanging from the back of the shooting game booth. “Pick your prize, Willy. Any one you want.”
I roll my eyes, but I can’t keep the smile off my face. “Alright, hotshot. If you’re so sure of yourself, I want that one.” I point to the largest stuffed toy, an adorable panda. The grand prize, according to the sign next to it.
Brogan’s eyes light up with the challenge. “Consider it done.”
As he picks up the plastic gun, testing its weight in his hands, I can’t help but admire the way his muscles flex under his shirt. He takes his stance, and suddenly I’m not looking at Brogan Hollister, the rich boy who used to tease me. I’m seeing Brogan, the Navy SEAL, focused and determined.
The game starts, and Brogan begins to shoot. His accuracy is impressive, hitting target after target with ease as a crowd starts to gather around us. I find myself holding my breath, my heart racing with each successful hit. The lights flash and the sirens blare as his score climbs higher and higher, the crowd cheering him on.
It’s mesmerizing, watching him like this. The concentration on his face, the skill and precision in his every move. I find myself getting lost in the moment, my heart racing, my breath catching in my throat.
I can’t remember the last time I felt like this, the last time I let myself get swept up in the excitement and the joy of something so simple, so pure.
Before I can blink, the game’s over, and Brogan has obliterated the high school. The booth attendant’s jaw is practically on the floor as he reaches for the prize, a panda so enormous it probably has its own zip code. But I don’t care; I’m taking it home with me and it’s going to have a spot on my bed back in New York.
“For you, my lady,” Brogan announces with a dramatic bow as he presents me the panda.
I accept the gift, immediately disappearing behind a wall of black and white fluff. “Why, thank you, kind sir.”
Brogan peers around the panda, his eyes twinkling. “Lucky for me I didn’t miss or I’d have to turn in my trident. Although,” he adds with a wink, “I had extra motivation.”
“What’s that?”
He grins. “Your smile.”
I feel my cheeks heat up, and it’s not just from being smothered by the toy. “Smooth talker,” I accuse, but I’m grinning like an idiot.
“Only for you, Genaro,” he says softly as the noisy arcade seems to fade away. It’s just us, a ridiculously large panda, and a moment that feels a lot like falling.
As we walk back to the beach house, the moonlight casting a soft glow on the sand, I can’t help but feel a sense of contentment wash over me. The night has been perfect, filled with laughter and fun and a sense of connection I haven’t felt in years.
Brogan walks beside me, the giant panda tucked under one arm, his other hand intertwined with mine. It feels natural, holding his hand like this, like it’s something we’ve done a thousand times before.
But as we approach the beach house, a sudden realization hits me. The couch, the one that was supposed to be delivered today, is nowhere to be seen.
“What’s wrong?” Brogan asks, his expression alert as we pause before the stairs leading to the deck.
“It looks like the couch never got delivered. Which means... ”
“We have to share the bed again,” Brogan finishes. “Are you okay with that? If you’d rather I leave, I can–”
“No! Of course not,” I reply a little too quickly. “I mean, you don’t have to. We now have the perfect divider.”
He glances at the bear under his arm. “Does our divider have a name?”
“Why of course he does.” I hold out the toy panda’s chubby arm. “Meet Sir Fluffington the Third, our official bed boundary.”
Brogan laughs, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Sir Fluffington the Third? Really?”
I nod, my grin widening. “Yep. He’s very distinguished, you know. He’ll make sure we stay on our respective sides of the bed.”
Brogan shakes his head, still chuckling. “Whatever you say, Genaro. As long as he doesn’t snore, I’m good.”
We make our way inside, the exhaustion from the day’s work on the kitchen cabinets catching up to us. Even Brogan is tired, yawning as he shuts the front door.
We take turns in the bathroom, getting ready for bed. When I emerge, Brogan is already lying down, Sir Fluffington the Third placed in the middle of the bed.
“Tell me about your parents, Willy,” he says after we’re both settled on the bed. “How are they doing?”
I smile, memories of my childhood flooding my mind. “They live in Nevada now, just north of Las Vegas. They were renting out the old house but this year, they decided to sell given the real estate prices being up and they asked me to help sell it. You know, my skills in staging and all that. ”
“Did you get a good price?”
“It was a bidding war but they got the price they wanted,” I reply. “Dad finally gets to relax a bit and my mother plays a lot of Bingo with her sisters who live in Henderson.”
Brogan grins, but his expression turns serious. “It must be tough, having them so far away.”
I shrug, my thumb absently rubbing the soft fur of Sir Fluffington. “I left town after high school so I got used to the distance. I didn’t visit as much since they preferred to visit me wherever I was since I was so busy. Now that the house has been sold, there’s nothing that’s keeping me or them here.”
“They’re great people,” Brogan says, his smile warm and genuine. “I remember when your mom would invite me over to have some chicken adobo and pancit.”
I laugh. They must have served him those dishes when I wasn’t home. “I can’t believe you remember the names.”
“How could I forget? And then there was that one night your dad had me try balut.”
I make a face at the thought of eating a dish so exotic it’s sold at night. “I don’t care what people say, but I’ll never try that even if I’m Filipino.”
“I’ve tried it a few times since, actually,” Brogan continues as I stare at him. “It’s hilarious to see guys who wouldn’t think twice about charging the enemy balk at the thought of eating one of those eggs.”
“I can’t blame them,” I say. “You know, my parents couldn’t believe it when they heard you became a SEAL, but they also weren’t surprised. Mom always said you loved adventure. They’re proud of everything you and Preston have accomplished.”
Brogan becomes quiet. “I never should have treated you the way I did back then.”
I shrug. “It’s ancient history now. But in a way, it motivated me. I worked hard to lose my accent and I got better at speaking English. I didn’t want anyone to have a reason to tease me anymore.”
Brogan leans in closer, his voice lowering. “I know this might be hard to believe because I did tease you about it, but I loved your accent. It was one of the things that made you unique, made you stand out.”
I feel a blush creep up my cheeks, my heart fluttering in my chest. “Really?”
“What can I say? I was an idiot for not seeing it then.”
“And I did try to lose weight for a while,” I add. “But I’m just big-boned, I guess. And honestly, I like my body the way it is.”
“I like your body, too.” He pauses. “I mean, not in a creepy way. Just, you know, objectively speaking.”
I laugh. “Smooth, Hollister. Real smooth.”
He brings his hands up in mock surrender. “Hey, I’m trying here. It’s not every day I get to share a bed with a beautiful woman and a giant stuffed panda.”
“For your information, he’s not just any giant stuffed panda,” I declare. “This is Sir Fluffington the Third, remember? And he demands respect.”
“I stand corrected,” Brogan says, grinning. “Again.”
I yawn. “As much as I’d love to continue this fascinating conversation, I think it’s time for me to get some sleep. We’ve got a big day tomorrow.”
Brogan nods, his own yawn echoing mine. “You’re right. Goodnight, Willy. Sweet dreams.”
“Goodnight, Brogan,” I whisper, reaching out to switch off the light.
As darkness envelops the room, I can’t help but smile. Brogan is funny. I can’t remember the last time I laughed so much in one night that my cheeks hurt. Or the last time the butterflies in my stomach fluttered like crazy, my heart racing every time he was near. Still, even with all the strange feelings hitting me, I feel safe and seen in a way I haven’t felt in years.
And although I know this is just pretend, I’ll enjoy every minute of it. Enjoy the warmth of Brogan’s body radiating next to me (even if it’s through poor Sir Fluffington the Third), and the gradual soft rise and fall of his breath in the darkness as he falls asleep.
After all, a girl can dream.