15. Rosay
Chapter fiftee n
Rosay
T here are plenty of things I could be doing right now, like planning evasion techniques for the questions my stepsisters and Wendy are going to ask.
But when there’s a hot man in tight gray underwear conspicuously standing where I can see his rather impressive package through the bedroom door, no one could blame me for being glued to this exact spot.
Heat rushes up my neck, spreading tingles along my collarbone and down my arms as I take in the deep V that dips below his waistband.
His abdominal muscles flex when he slowly takes off his shirt, as if he knows I’m watching with my tongue hanging out.
Graham might be a grump, but he’s a damn sexy grump.
The People magazine spread didn’t do him justice.
If it had, I wouldn’t be here salivating over my fake fiancé like I’ve never seen a nearly naked man before.
“Enjoying the view?” Graham says from behind the door.
I press my tongue against my cheek and pick up my phone, trying to pretend I was doing anything but that. “I have no clue what you’re talking about.”
“Mmhmm, sure,” he says. “That’s why you can’t look at me.”
Scrolling through my phone but not actually seeing anything, I say, “If you didn’t want to be looked at then you should’ve closed the door.”
The door opens a little wider, and I fight like hell not to give him my attention. From the corner of my eye, I can tell he has one arm propped against the top of the door, and I just know that look is going to be the death of me.
“Feel free to take a closer look,” he purrs, and the way my core clenches at the deep tone in his voice tells me that my brain has firmly crossed into dangerous territory.
It takes every fiber of my being to keep my eyes locked on my screen and continue scrolling as if I couldn’t be any less interested. “I’ll pass, sir.”
Even though I called him sir to remind myself that he’s my fake fiancé and my boss, the little growl that emanates from his chest as he pushes away from the door makes me realize there’s another layer to him I’m dying to learn about.
I’ve got to get the hell out of here. “I’m going to go grade papers.”
With a folder and my laptop in hand, I scurry down the stairs like a mouse chased by a cat.
I glance at the table and decide it’s not far enough away from Graham to focus, so I relax into a chair outside by the firepit.
A cool breeze glides across my skin as I inhale the crisp country air to clear my mind.
So much has happened today, and I know it’s only going to get more chaotic.
Graham did a great job of convincing my family we’re a couple—like he said he would—but he’s doing too good of a job convincing me we could be.
Earlier, I was surprised how well he read me and stepped up to the plate with comfort when I needed it, but I noticed he was struggling at times too.
His body went rigid every time a question was asked about his mom, a reaction I’m all too familiar with.
I was thankful my sisters didn’t bring up his prior engagement, but I doubt it’ll be long before they do.
I just hope my dad and Kieran are on their best behavior during their tee time.
Birds chi rp in the distance as I delve into grading worksheets and tests from last week’s clients.
Pride rises in my chest seeing the students grasp a math concept they’ve been struggling with.
Time passes quicker than expected, and before I know it, Graham walks out of the rental in a pair of tight khaki pants and a coral polo, dark ink visible on his upper arms.
“Ready to head up?” he asks, striding toward me.
I close my laptop and stand as he reaches me. “Yeah, just let me put this inside and change.”
Am I running away from my fake fiancé because every time we’re alone there’s a little pitter patter in my chest that makes me stumble over my thoughts?
Absolutely. Inside the rental I do a quick brush through of my hair, refusing to linger too long on the blonde strands.
I change into a pair of flowy striped pants and a crop top.
I’ll be relaxing at the house, not going out, so there’s no need to dress up.
Graham is waiting for me where I left him, his brow slightly furrowed.
“Everything okay?” I ask.
He slips his phone into his pocket and smooths out his features as I approach. “Yeah, just checking in on my dad.”
“Seems like y’all are close.”
He nods. “He’s my best friend.”
Like it’s second nature, Graham holds my hand the entire way up the hill to the main house, comfortable silence wrapping us in a tight cocoon.
He stops me in the threshold, and obedient to Winnie’s bad luck demands, plants a kiss on my lips.
It ends too soon for me, but I’m also thankful he didn’t rock my world like he did at the rental.
There’s no way I’ll survive another panty-melting kiss like that.
“Ready to go?” Dad and Kieran are chomping at the bit the minute we walk through the door.
Graham wi nks at me. “Ready to kick someone’s ass. Flip a coin to see who it’ll be.”
Dad’s husky laugh brings a smile to my face. “Mija, where did you find this payaso?”
I cover my mouth to hide my chuckle at my dad calling Graham a clown.
Graham wraps his arm around my waist and pulls me to him.
Our eyes meet a moment before our mouths do, and even though it’s a short kiss, my lips still tingle, lingering as if there’s another one coming.
He’s taken every opportunity to kiss me, even when it’s not needed, and I’m trying to remind myself it means nothing.
After the wedding is over, he’ll go back to being the bossy grump with a stick up his ass and the playful Graham I’ve gotten to know will be a figment of my imagination.
“I’ll see you later, Pinky.”
I scold him with my gaze and release him just as my stepsisters and Wendy come in from the back. The men chat amongst themselves as they leave, and when I turn around, I’m met with three pairs of raised eyebrows and mischievous grins.
“I’ll grab the wine,” Waverly says just as Winnie commands, “Sit.”
Wendy chuckles as I trudge to a stool at the kitchen island where a charcuterie board filled with tiny desserts sits. Hoping to stave off the firing squad of questions staring me down, I shove a mini pan dulce in my mouth.
“That won’t save you.” Waverly pushes a full glass of red my way, tilting her own toward me for a cheers. “Now talk.”
Around a mouthful of food, I say, “What do you want to know?”
“Everything.” Wendy props her hands beneath her chin with a grin. “And not that bullshit you told your father.”
I choke on the sweet bread, laughing at her candor.
It was always one of the things I loved most about her when she was my teacher, but also one of the t hings I hated most when she became my stepmom.
Having someone you’ve always looked up to telling you that it’s time to get your shit together was a hard pill for me to swallow.
Was it what I needed to hear? Probably, but all I could focus on was the fact that not too long after that I was sent to live with my abuela, and life went on without me.
Winnie sidles up to the chair next to me. “Yeah, Rosie. I can’t believe you kept him from us for so long, and now you’re engaged!”
I choose not to focus on the disappointment coating their tone, unable to deal with the underlying hurt I caused them. “I didn’t keep him away from you guys. We just weren’t entirely sure where it was going, and since we work together, we figured it was best to keep it to ourselves until we were.”
“And how does that work? With you guys working together?” Waverly asks, popping torrijas into her mouth.
Normally you can’t find the cinnamon spiced fried bread outside of Easter time, but it was a staple in our household growing up, something my mom always missed from Spain.
“I can’t imagine falling in love with another doctor.
Both of our egos couldn’t fit in the same room. ”
We all chuckle at that, and it gives me a moment of reprieve to think about my answer.
I could lie and tell them everything is perfect and easy at work, but something compels me to tell the truth.
“Honestly, we’re like cats and dogs at work.
He’s a grump with a stick up his ass most of the day, and I usually tend to drive him nuts. ”
“That’s called passion, sweetheart.” I stare at Wendy, whose smile is mischievous. “The best relationships have that fire.”
“Or someone needs a Snickers,” Waverly jokes.
I swallow through a dry throat and reach for my wine. Passion is the last term I would use to describe me and Graham’s daily interactions, more like annoyance or frustration, but maybe those go hand in hand.
“He’s really fantastic at his job, though,” I say, trying to change the direction of the conversation. “Thompson is finally back in the black, and the board seems happy with the progress and the good press.”
“Speaking of press,” Winnie says, scrolling through her phone as if looking for something. “I’m not allowing phones at the wedding. I don’t want any of our friends hesitant to come because they’re afraid of pictures getting leaked.”
Being a party planner extraordinaire, Winnie has made friends with plenty of NBA and NFL wives while organizing their vow renewals and lavish weddings in The Dominion. I can understand why they’d want their privacy, and since Winnie is keeping the wedding small, it shouldn’t be an issue.
“That’s understandable,” I say. “Plenty of my clients have security measures in place when they are coming for a visit. When you’re worth billions, security isn’t an option, it’s a requirement.”
“Speaking of the press,” Waverly begins. “When they catch wind of you and Graham, they’re going to have a field day.”