8. Quinn
Quinn
If Reid is intrigued, he doesn’t show it. In fact, he makes every effort to keep me in limbo.
“I can find someone else,” he says as the bartender sets another hazy beer in front of him along with a basket of pretzel bites that he pushes slightly in my direction.
“Oh really? On such short notice?” I ask.
“Sure. Women love weddings,” he says, and I roll my eyes.
“What else you got?” he asks, popping a pretzel bite in his mouth and chewing while he waits for an answer.
“Come on,” I groan. “You need a date to these weddings. You said it yourself. Going stag looks bad. And any random chick you find would just be using you for your money–”
I stop when I realize how that sounds, considering what I am asking. Reid’s eyebrows crawl up into a cocky arch and he smirks for the millionth annoying time.
“Shut up. You know, this is different. You admitted yourself that my company was the only one worth keeping at the last wedding. And I think I’ve proved that I can handle you. What else do you want?”
He studies me silently in an attempt to unravel me, which is not going to work. Although I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t panicking on the inside.
“How do you ask?” he asks.
“What?”
He grabs another pretzel bite. “How do you ask?”
“Are you actually insinuating that I beg?” I snap.
“I am insinuating that you do whatever you have to if you want to save your little project…” he says, and I am fuming. But I am also desperate. And I’ve come this far.
“Fine,” I mutter. “Reid?”
“Yes?”
“Will you…please… fund We Still Do so that our doors don’t close? And in turn, I will attend every wedding you need me to for the rest of the wedding season.”
“I feel like there was a tone behind that,” he says. “Try again.”
“Are you fucking–” I stop, biting my tongue and forcing a smile. “Fine. I am desperate. I need you, Reid. In the words of Leia Skywalker Organa Solo…help me. You’re my only hope.”
And that pulls a grin out of me.
“Alright, I guess,” he says.
“Really?” I ask eagerly. A little too eagerly.
“Really. Now. Let’s order dinner and figure out the logistics,” he says, dusting off his hands and handing me a food menu. And I swear no one has ever been this happy to make a deal with the devil.
“Four weddings,” I say as I go over the dates and times and locations. We are halfway through with our food, and I finally have enough calories to fuel my brain for this.
“Yes, as we discussed before.”
“I’m sorry,” I say. “It just seems like a lot of weddings for someone who thinks marriage is a ruse.”
“For your information, I happen to have four friends all getting married later in life because their first marriages failed,” he states.
“The fact alone that they’re all finding love for a second time should have you believing in love at least a little bit, don’t you think?” I ask.
“Quite the opposite. The divorce rate of second marriages is twenty percent higher than the first. Meaning, these will most likely fail. And when they need lawyers for those trials, I happen to know a guy,” Reid smirks at his own wit, and I just shake my head.
“You are truly hopeless, Reid,” I say.
“I like to think so,” he says with a wink.
And as fun as this conversation is, I am ready to wrap it up.
“Alright…so financially speaking–”
“You have your people send me the numbers. Expenses both currently and expected. I will negotiate. Enough funds to keep you presently afloat upfront, and a second, more generous check after the fourth wedding to fund you for upcoming clients. And, if you’re a good girl, I’ll even toss you some legal advice for tackling the whole government funding debacle. ”
“How generous of you,” I say. But really, it’s more than I expected.
Still, there are other things besides money that need to be discussed if I am really going to go through with this.
Posing as Reid’s steady date to multiple weekends of my summer isn’t exactly a cheap trade. Dani’s wedding was proof of that.
“Alright, let’s talk relationship terms,” I say, and he nearly chokes.
“Relationship?”
“I thought you said you wanted this to look like a consistent thing,” I press.
“I meant more of a, I kind of like this girl and we’re seeing where it goes in an open-ended way, sort of thing,” he says.
“Either way, we need clear ground rules,” I tell him, pulling out my tablet.
“What’s that for?” he asks.
“A contract? Surely you can appreciate making it legal. There’s a lot of money on the line here–”
“You’re right, you’re right,” he says.
“Number one,” I say as I type. “And this is a very important rule. If you breach it at any time, it’s all off.”
“Sounds serious,” he says, watching me type. Then his brow furrows. “I’m sorry, does that say Reid may not smack Quinn on the ass?”
“Yes,” I answer, and Reid spits out a laugh. “I mean it. The last guy I was with did it all the time. I hated it. It’s degrading. And it hurts.”
“Alright,” he agrees, still chuckling. “I won’t smack your ass.”
“Thank you,” I say, moving on to the next rule.
“Unless you ask nicely,” he adds, and I shoot him a look to kill.
“Number two. You have to be nicer to me. At least in front of people. Our normal banter needs to be toned down a little if people are going to believe we like each other.”
“Well, that’s no fun,” he says. Then he swipes the tablet. “My turn. Number three, you can’t walk away from me and hide in the tulips every time I annoy you.”
“That doesn’t sound like fun either,” I mutter.
“Business never is, sweetheart,” he says, and I grab the tablet again.
“Four. Don’t call me sweetheart,” I smile hostilely, handing it back to him.
“Five. Don’t insult my career,”
“Six. Dido.”
“Seven, PDA is a must,” he adds.
“Eight. With stipulation,” I say. “Holding hands, your arm around me, opening doors for me, pulling out my chair for me…”
“Anything else, princess?” he scoffs.
“Yeah. Considering the circumstances, we should probably kiss,” I say.
“I couldn’t agree more,” Reid answers, and with that, he plants a kiss on my lips.
“Oh my God! I didn’t mean now!” I snap, but he just grins.
“You didn’t specify either,” he says, taking another sip of his beer.
I let out a pained sigh. “At the weddings. For face value. We can kiss. That’s it.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he chuckles.
After that, I look over the weddings schedules. There’s basically one every three weeks. Which is fine. Until I realize that wedding number 3 (which is two weddings away) is out of town. Myrtle Beach, to be exact. Meaning we will be staying at a hotel. Meaning the rules just got tighter.
“I think it goes without saying, sex is entirely off-limits,” I sternly remind him. “Is that clear?”
“Crystal,” he says.
And with that, I pray to God I didn’t just make a huge mistake.