Chapter 3
DRAKE
Drake had barely walked in the front door of his house, currently on the phone with his mother, when a wave of exhaustion hit him hard.
It was a heckuva day in more ways than one – and he had no clue what to do about it.
For a moment, he thought it was a brilliant idea, only to have it backfire in his face.
Yeah, he was lonely and standing there in that bathroom with his neighbor, for a moment it felt like a safe bet…
and then he got a flash in his mind of his brother Pete and his wife Sunny.
He wanted a love like that – and was pretty sure that he’d just firmly slammed his foot in the door by tying himself to that horrid creature that lived next door.
She was a harpy, snapping at him, bossing him around, and always getting on his last nerve.
Why he ever thought of the idea of them being engaged was a good idea had been sheer insanity.
There was no love lost between them – period.
She mowed over the border of his perfectly manicured lawn and left a crooked edge.
There were patches of dead grass in her lawn, and she was letting the crabgrass grow – didn’t she know that would spread?
Her car was practically parked at the edge of his driveway, which really ticked him off to see that she’d laid out a flat sheet of cardboard to catch the oil.
If she knew it was leaking that badly, why not park it – and the cardboard – on her driveway, in the garage, or heck… get it fixed.
He had a package mistakenly delivered next door and saw the image on the app, thinking it would be safe.
He thought wrong. His ‘oh-so-considerate’ neighbor brought it over…
left it on his porch, and it rained an hour later.
Maybe she didn’t know – or maybe she didn’t care, he had no reason to immediately think it was deliberate, but surely no one could be so clueless as to common decency toward a neighbor…
Could they?
Drake grew up in a tiny town named Quinlan outside of Dallas – well, it used to be tiny.
His mother still lived in the same house, on the same street, and growing up, she made it a point that all the neighbors knew who they were and vice versa.
He’d always known that Mr. Peach raised rabbits in his backyard, but you never stuck your finger through the fence because they weren’t pet rabbits, but for food.
He knew that Mrs. Ogilivie had the best tree in her front yard to climb, but she also had a broom that would reach them.
Mrs. Maddox made muffins with everything and anything – for any child that happened to cross her doorstep to play with her twin boys…
who honestly were the biggest twerps with cool bicycles and toys.
“Mama, I can explain…” Drake said for the millionth time, but his mother wasn’t hearing any of it.
“There’s nothing to explain, honey,” his mother replied happily in a teary voice. “I’m just so happy all of my babies found someone to love.”
“Mama, it’s not like that…”
“Pete and Tommy are gonna be so happy for you…”
“Mama, please…”
“I’m so thrilled and can’t wait to meet her…”
“Mama, hang on…”
“And your dearly departed father would have loved to see you three boys married and in love,” she wept happily. “He used to say his prayers every night, and you three used to make him worry. You’re so independent, and he was so scared that maybe you were too much like him, too headstrong…”
“Mama,” Drake interrupted hoarsely as his eyes stung at her words. His mother didn’t bring up their father very often, and this was a punch in the gut. “Mama, it might be a while before… well, before I, ah, heck…”
“Honey, there’s nothing shameful in a long engagement - or eloping.
It’s your lives, and whatever you choose will be wonderful.
We just both wanted you to find someone, to love someone, and I cannot wait to see how cute your babies are.
Do you remember in your baby pictures how you had that single little curl on your forehead?
Oh, I loved that sweet little curl, and I hope someday one of my grandbabies will have that curl – Pete and Tommy didn’t get that… just you, my sweet boy.”
He was so screwed.
“Mama, I love you – but can I let you go?” he said nervously. “I just got home from the game and…”
“Oh sure, baby. I understand – you go spend time with your sweetheart and text me a few photos of you two. That picture on the news was atrocious. Daggum-infernal-paparazzi chasing you around and getting a photo of my soon-to-be daughter-in-law holding a plunger… sheesh,” his mother finished in a dismayed voice as they said their goodbyes.
Ending the call, Drake saw the text messages from his brother before he groaned aloud and let his shoulders drop as his head fell back in defeat.
He was not just screwed.
He was super-screwed… to the fourth power.
Bro-I knew you liked blondes! Congrats, man!
I was starting to wonder about you, and cannot wait to meet your fiancée – and Sunny said, ‘It’s about time that cutie-patootie got hitched’. You’re lucky you finally came clean, because she was making a list of potential girlfriends for you.
His sister-in-law and Pete’s wife was a holy terror to anyone who made his brother frown.
She was sunshine, rainbows, and unicorn glitter embodied into a woman whose body wasn’t enough to handle all that personality.
She stormed into his brother’s life, took over, and did the same to all of them – demanding that they love her, and it wasn’t hard to do.
The woman could sell ketchup popsicles to Eskimos in Alaska wearing a white parka.
She had a way of making you want to make her happy… and perfect for Pete.
Tommy’s wife was all business and brains – except around his brother. When Tommy walked in the room, her train of thought went right out the door, and heaven help him, that was what Drake wanted for himself.
And sooo not what he got.
No, what he got with his stupid idiotic idea was a termagant with an attitude that broke all the rules, ignored anything she deemed didn’t belong in her happy bubble of the world, and glared at him like he was the enemy.
Now the whole world thought they were getting married.
“What am I gonna do?”
Drake awoke the next morning, bleary-eyed and groggy, to his phone ringing. As he extended an arm toward it, rolled over, and then looked at the screen, the call ended abruptly, revealing his lock screen.
He had seventy-two text messages.
“What the…” he yelped, his eyes nearly popping out of his head as he stared in disbelief, horror, and confusion.
There were messages from his brothers asking for a photo of the two of them – minus the plunger, text messages from his mother, who was still impatiently waiting for a photo, messages from his agent, old girlfriends, a few news stations looking for the scoop…
and a spam text to extend the warranty on his vehicle.
Sitting up in bed, he saw it was nearly eight in the morning.
Rubbing a hand through his hair, he grimaced as a flood of thoughts hit him once more.
He’d stupidly, publicly told everyone that he’d proposed to Steffi and that she’d agreed.
Every chance he could have taken to back out of it, to explain away the problem, the mistake, whatever you wanted to call it…
Those chances had gone. It was now the next day, and he had yet to deny the fake relationship news that had seemingly traveled around the world already. This was a mess of his own making.
But was it so bad?
Hesitating, Drake swallowed as the silent thought struck him out of nowhere.
Would it be so bad to have someone to attend the charity dinner with, to have someone to talk to or spend time with…
would it be so terrible to have someone he could call his own?
He’d been struggling with depression and loneliness for a while now because it was hitting him hard lately, realizing that even with all his fame and fortune, he had nothing.
No close buddies that he could count on that didn’t want something in return, and every single aspect of his life felt transactional, which is why he mentioned to Steffi that he was rich.
He was trying to ensure her compliance with his idea – and had looked so insulted at his words that it surprised him.
He didn’t get surprised often.
Throwing back the covers, Drake padded toward the bathroom to brush his teeth and grab a quick shower when he heard a knock at the front door. Changing direction abruptly, he moved to answer it… without thinking – and froze the second he saw Steffi on the front porch.
“Hello?”
“Um,” Steffi hesitated as she stared at him with wide eyes, swallowed audibly, and then plastered a fake smile on her face as she stood there in what could only be called a muumuu or a zip-up bathrobe.
The horrifying paisley print mixed with vibrant daisies did nothing to make it appealing in the slightest – plus the gigantic rollers in her hair had her looking like one of those weird Pops dolls. “Do you need to put something else on?”
“Do you?” he shot back – and hesitated, looking down at his green boxers. “I’m fine. They’re practically shorts – but you still look like someone robbed a casket from the seventies.”
“A casket,” she yelped in disbelief as her expression changed from one of embarrassment to potential serial killer in seconds flat. “Why did I even bother to think that you could be reasoned with – there is no way in any sane sense of the word that you could ever…”
“What do you need?”
“Not you!” she shot back and bolted off to his left, back toward her house, and right through his immaculate lawn.