Chapter 4
FOUR
Lottie
My thoughts spiral on the drive to Brew House.
One question after another race through my mind until it feels like I have twenty tabs open in my brain.
More than once, I think about calling my dad, knowing he’d say exactly the right thing to help make sense of everything.
But he has enough to deal with without adding my problems to the mix. He needs rest right now.
My dad’s been sick for a long time. He was diagnosed with heart disease when he was in his early twenties.
He’s managed it with medication and a healthy lifestyle for most of his life, but last year he suffered a heart attack and it’s been a tough road ever since.
Now he’s in the United States undergoing an experimental regenerative treatment that’s supposed to strengthen his weakened heart.
It’s expensive—more expensive than my family can comfortably afford, but we’re all clinging to the hope that it will buy him more time.
I pull into an open spot just outside of Brew House, Deep Cove’s busiest little coffee shop. Pausing outside the door, I take a deep breath to steady myself before reaching for the handle.
Wes Winters, you have some serious explaining to do.
The door swings open before I even have a chance to push it. Madeline steps out, iced coffee in hand, and stops abruptly when she sees me standing right in front of her.
“Charlotte Hart.”
I wince.
Madeline and I met in boarding school, where we somehow ended up in the same orbit despite being completely different people.
She was on the debate team while I was always lost in my music.
That pretty much sums up our personalities.
She’s composed, thoughtful, cautious. I’ve always been the opposite—spontaneous and open.
I say yes and then deal with the consequences later.
Our friendship didn’t make much sense at first, and it probably still doesn’t, but she’s my best friend in the whole world and somehow despite our differences, we just get each other.
There’s no one I’d rather spend my time with.
“Why,” she says, stopping in front of me, “have you not returned a single one of my messages?”
I give her my most innocent look. “It’s only been twenty-four hours. I’ve been busy.”
“I’ve heard. How are you?”
I shrug. “Oh, you know…adjusting to married life, obviously. It’s been a big transition. New last name, new family…” I gesture between us. “On the bright side, I think this makes us sisters-in-law.”
She grabs my hand and squeezes it. “I heard all about it from Jesse. I’m sorry. I hate this.”
“Imagine how I feel.”
Her expression softens just a little. “You’re going to see Wes now, aren’t you?”
I nod then glance back toward the coffee shop entrance. “Did you see him in there?”
“I did.”
Madeline exhales. “What a mess. I’m so glad I’m not you.”
“Same,” I say. “I’m also glad you’re not me.”
She laughs. “So, what are you going to do?”
I shrug, shaking my head. “Nothing. I’m not doing anything. I’m definitely not pretending to be married to Wes. It’s ridiculous. It’s—” I wave a hand, searching for the right word. “Preposterous. I genuinely don’t understand how he thinks this is a good idea.”
Madeline tilts her head. “He doesn’t think it’s a good idea. Their publicist thinks it’s a good idea. She’s putting on the pressure.”
“That doesn’t make it better.”
“No,” she agrees. “But maybe it makes it a little easier to understand?”
I scoff. “Barely.”
She smiles a little. “Lottie…he’s persuasive. You know that. All the Winters men are.”
I groan. “Don’t remind me.”
I’ve known who the Winters brothers are since Cove took off.
They’re hard to miss. Their names are everywhere.
The four of them have a reputation here.
In the boardroom, they’re known for being sharks, the kind of men who don’t like to lose.
Outside of it, they’re intimidating in a different way—successful at a level that feels untouchable, richer than anyone needs to be, and somehow all so handsome that they would look perfectly in place modelling in Cove’s ad campaigns if they wanted to.
I got to know Jesse better when Madeline started working with him at Cove and, later, started dating him.
At first, I was just her sounding board when she’d come home at the end of the day complaining about how frustrating he was, how he acted like he owned every room he walked into, how he pushed her buttons.
Eventually things changed between them, and I got to know Jesse better myself.
She wasn’t wrong— he somehow manages to be both infuriating and impossible not to like.
But with Madeline, he’s different. Softer, even if he’d never admit it.
Wes isn’t like Jesse. There’s a distance to him, something quieter and more contained than any of his brothers. I don’t know him well, but I get the sense that he keeps most of himself pushed down, locked away where no one else can reach him.
“I’m serious,” Madeline says, interrupting my thoughts. “If Wes has decided this is happening, he’s not going to back down easily.”
“Good,” I shoot back. “Because neither am I.”
Madeline studies me for a second, like she’s trying to decide how much to push. “He might get you to say yes.”
I laugh. “Sure. But only if he buys me a unicorn. And not just any unicorn—like, a fully upgraded, custom-built unicorn with diamonds in its mane.”
Madeline snorts. “Reasonable.”
“I think so.”
She nudges my arm lightly. “I’m just saying…maybe there can be something in this for you.”
“Absolutely not.”
She smiles like she knows something I don’t. “Mm,” she hums. “You say that now.”
I point at her. “Don’t start. I can see it in your face. You’re about to romanticize this, and I need you to stop immediately.”
“I’m not romanticizing anything,” she insists, the hint of a smirk on her face. “Okay, maybe just a little.”
“Madeline.”
She holds up her hands. “Fine. I’ll stop.”
“Thank you.” I step toward the door, then glance back at her. “But if I come out of this married for real, I’m blaming you.”
“Just think of all the fun we’d have at family dinners,” she says. “Text me after.”
“I will,” I promise, already stepping through the door.
I spot him immediately and the second I do, the deep breath I just took gets stuck in my chest.
Wes is already seated at a table near the window. He’s wearing a baseball cap on backward, his dark hair curling slightly at the edges. His fitted T-shirt stretches across his shoulders and arms in a way that makes it very clear he’s built. The man oozes power and confidence.
I’ve seen him dressed up before in a tailored suit that I assume cost more money than I have in my bank account, but this relaxed look is somehow even more devastating.
He’s smoldering hot without trying, which appears to be my kryptonite.
There’s nothing awkward about him, no unflattering angle or feature that doesn’t work.
It’s like God took his time with him and didn’t rush a single detail.
How is this man still single? In all the years I’ve lived in Deep Cove, I don’t recall ever hearing about him being in a serious relationship. It makes zero sense.
After storming out on Wes at Cove yesterday morning, I spent a bit of time looking him up online—purely for investigative purposes—and what I found did not help.
He doesn’t post much, but the few photos he has shared of himself on his socials are devastatingly handsome.
Wes in the cockpit with a headset on, one hand on the controls.
Another was taken at the beach, sunlight hitting him, his face half-turned toward the camera, his expression focused and sharp.
I’m embarrassed to admit that I looked at the photo for a good five minutes.
It’s irritating, the fact that not only is my fake husband successful and accomplished, but he’s hot as hell too. It doesn’t help me stay mad at him when he’s sitting here dripping with alpha masculinity and scorching hot sex appeal.
Why am I acting this way? Getting distracted by a guy just because he’s attractive is not something I usually do. But there is something about Wes that makes it harder than it should be to look away.
I tighten my grip on my bag and start toward the table. Hot or not, he still has a lot to answer for.
“You came,” he says, already pushing to his feet as I reach the table.
He towers over my five-foot-three frame and I have to tilt my head up to make eye contact with him.
Before I can react, he steps closer, brushing one hand lightly over my arm as he leans in and presses a quick, easy kiss to my cheek.
The contact is brief, barely there, but it sends a spark through me anyway—fast enough to catch me off guard.
What was that?
When he pulls back, I search his face for a sign he felt it too, but he gives nothing away. His lack of expression reminds me why I’m mad at him.
“Oh, I almost didn’t,” I say sarcastically as I slide into the chair across from him. “But then I remembered we’re newlyweds so I thought I should at least check in.”
An amused expression crosses his face and then disappears just as quickly.
“Well, I’m glad you came,” he says, taking his seat.
I set my bag down on the empty chair next to me with a little more force than necessary. “Let’s skip the small talk. We have a problem to solve.”
“We’ll get there.”
My eyes narrow. “We’re already there.”
He doesn’t react, which isn’t surprising. Wes is always annoyingly composed. He nods toward the drink already sitting in front of me. “I ordered for you.”
I glance down at the large, steaming mug, then back at him. “What is this?”
“Vanilla oat latte. Extra shot.”
I blink. “That’s my exact order.”
“I know.”
I’m a little taken aback, but it’s not the drink that gets to me, it’s the way he’s looking at me. His gray eyes hold mine, sharp and steady.
The Wes effect.
My eyes narrow. “How did you know my drink order?”
He leans back, completely at ease. “I asked Madeline.”
“Of course she’s working for you,” I mutter.
“She was helpful.”