Only for You Read online

  Hearing his name spoken on the show had churned the bile in his stomach. How many other times had he been mentioned, his personal life tossed around in conversation and then broadcast into living rooms all over the country?

  Mel said some crap about not wanting to hurt him, while the live feed on the bottom of the screen raced with comments urging her to go for it with Dak already.

  Tim climbed the steps leading to the shop and used the side of his glove to sweep the thin layer of snow they’d gotten last night off the railing. Blake, his assistant manager, glanced up from the computer when he shoved the door open, the cheery bell ringing above his head.

  “Hey, Mr. Celebrity.”

  Tim shuffled past the cash desk toward his office in the back. “I’ll give you twenty bucks if you go to Jolt and get me a coffee so I don’t have to face anyone.”

  Grinning, Blake pulled a coffee out from under the counter and sat it next to his own. “I anticipated your predicament. Pay up, bud. And tell me,” he added, sipping from his cup. “How’s it feel to be famous?”

  Tim gulped down a third of the large coffee Blake handed him. “Famous for what, though?” He paused in his office doorway and smoothed his hand over his hair, still damp from his shower. “Christ,” he sighed, unzipping his coat as he walked over to his desk and tossed it on the worn chair. Blue light glowed from the opening of his coat pocket. More notifications. If his phone didn’t let up, he’d have to toss it into the lake. That or himself.

  “We won’t survive on a staff of four if this popularity continues. We’re going to need to hire back a couple of the holiday part-timers just to process online orders.” Blake braced an arm in the doorway. “Tim for season two was trending within thirty minutes of the scene. And have you seen the action on our Facebook and Instagram? All those single women eager to console you? Your five minutes of reality TV fame has quadrupled our followers.”

  He trailed off when Tim lifted his hand and shook his head for him to stop. “I don’t have time for the recap. Seriously, can we not talk about it? Unless you’ve got a solution as to what I’m going to do about all this unwanted attention, we’ve got a markdown to do, and we’ll probably get hit with some holiday returns later this morning.”

  Blake rubbed his fingers through his beard. “Leave the markdown to me. It’s tedious enough when you don’t have a bunch of distractions. As for a solution to this fiasco, I’ve got nothing.”

  “You and me both.” Because he could still hear the buzzing from his coat pocket, Tim grabbed the phone, opened his desk drawer, and tossed it on top of a bunch of takeout menus from nearby restaurants. Before he could slap the drawer closed, it lit up again.

  “I mean, it’s too bad you don’t have a girlfriend,” Blake was saying. “You could just parade her around a little until those fans forget about you. The problem is, you’re single and they want to eat you with a spoon.”

  Tim wrinkled his nose. “Nice visual.”

  Blake smirked, and tossed his coffee cup into the garbage can. “Whatever. You get the gist of what I mean.”

  Tim tipped back his chair and it protested with a squeak. “Yeah, well, I’m not going to have a girlfriend any time soon. In fact, I may never have one again.”

  “I’ll believe that when I see it.”

  “I’m serious.” Tim pushed back his chair and propped his feet on the corner of his desk. “It’s not worth the headache. No matter how great things are when everything is new, it never ends well. Take it from me.”

  “Fair enough, I can’t say I blame you for being a little cynical, given the hand you got dealt with Melissa.” Blake shrugged. “You could always fake it, though.”

  Tim looked up from the ambitious to-do list he’d made a couple of days ago, when his biggest concern had been what to eat for lunch. “Fake what?”

  “Having a girlfriend.”

  Despite his mood, laughter rolled out of Tim. “You’re suggesting I pretend to have a girlfriend? What, like dress up a blow-up doll and drive her around in the passenger seat of my truck? Riveting idea, Blake, truly.”

  Blake pulled up a chair on the other side of the desk. “No, dumbass, get somebody to go along with it—hit social media with selfies of the two of you together, caption your posts with sappy shit about how into each other you are. Make yourself seem impossibly happy so all your newfound followers give up on any chance you’ll go on this show and leave you alone.”

  Tim started to rebut, but as the idea sank in, it took on some weight. After all, a little charade scored higher on his list of things to do than fielding all of this attention. “I’ll give you points for innovation. It’s not a completely insane idea, but even if I was desperate enough to consider it, how could I expect someone to go along with a sham like that? And who in the name of God would anyway?”

  There was a long pause before Blake interrupted the silence. “It’d have to be someone you trust completely. Somebody you’re with a lot already, so it’s believable.” He waited another beat. “You get where I’m going with this?”

  Tim searched his face. “No.”

  Rolling his eyes, Blake pushed off the chair and stepped around a box of new stock to wander over to the window. “Somebody you’ve been in the friend zone with since before internet was a household word. Somebody you’d bring coffee to every morning. Someone whose car you’d brush the snow off of when you’re cleaning off your own.”

  Ever since he realized Em couldn’t reach the middle of the roof with her snowbrush, he always cleaned off her SUV. She was forever driving around with this strip of snow they’d nicknamed “the snowhawk.” “Wait, Emily?” Tim spun his chair in Blake’s direction. “You think I should ask Emily to pretend to be my girlfriend?”

  Blake lifted his shoulders. “Why the hell not?”

  “Well…because…”

  “You should be so lucky.” Blake returned to the chair again in two strides and propped his elbows on his thighs. “For one thing, she’s gorgeous and funny. She fits the bill to a T. Hell, if she’d pose as my girlfriend, I’d be content with the pretense till the end of days.”

  Tim rubbed the pads of his fingers over his twitching lip. “Easy, dude. Pick up your tongue. You’re not her type.”

  Blake scoffed. “How do you know I’m not her type?”

  “Oh, I know her type. You and I are not it. Anyway, you’re like ten years younger than her.”

  Blake squared his shoulders. “So what? Maybe I’m into older women.”

  It felt good to laugh and release some of the tension. “You should definitely lead with that line when you ask her out. Report back to me how it goes, Casanova.”

  His shoulders slumped. “Screw off. For all you know, she likes younger guys.”

  Crossing his arms, Tim eyed the staff member who’d become a sort of little brother in the past couple of years. “I thought we were supposed to be convincing her to fake date me?”

  “We are. I’m just saying she’s a catch. You could do a whole lot worse.”

  “I’m not brain-dead. I know she’s a catch.” As far as female company went, Emily topped the list hands down. He could be a total dork around her, and she just got a kick out of it. They’d been friends forever, which was how he knew she’d been planning her wedding since she was fifteen. The woman was in love with love. She’d never do a fake relationship.

  The bell out front rang, announcing a customer in the store. Tim stood behind his desk. “I’ll admit you’ve had crazier ideas, but I don’t think a fake girlfriend is going to make any of this go away. I just need to suffer through it a couple of days until these fans move on to their next fixation.”

  He poked his head out of his office and immediately wished he’d stayed slumped at his desk.

  Fuzzy Collins breezed through the store and headed straight to the office. He moved so fast, Tim had no choice but to duck out of the way so he could pass through the doorway.

  “Morning, Mayor. What’s up?”

  Blake
’s heels had barely cleared the threshold when Fuzzy kicked the door closed and clasped his hands together. “What’s up? What’s up is that you, Tim Fraser, are an overnight celebrity, and your stint on last night’s episode of Behind Closed Doors has officially put Sapphire Springs on the map. Did you see the part when they drove through town? I’m so glad this all happened in September. Such a pretty time of year to have a camera crew around.”

  Tim shook his head and reclaimed his chair. “I didn’t watch…”

  “Well, it doesn’t matter.” Fuzzy waved a hand. “Every entertainment news station is replaying the scene over and over.”

  Stellar.

  “And it’s on YouTube. I could send you the link.”

  “That’s not necessary.” Tim lifted an eyebrow.

  Fuzzy perched onto the chair Blake had just vacated. “Aren’t you the least bit excited? Those crazy fans are rallying to get you on the show next season. I mean, how’s that for karma, Melissa? They’d probably bring the crew to Sapphire Springs every now and then to film scenes of you in your hometown.”

  Tim rubbed at the dull ache in his left shoulder and made a point of checking his watch.

  “Oh!” Fuzzy cupped his hands over his cheeks. “You might need one of those audition videos. This guy Lars, who’s working on the web channel, is a whiz at that stuff. You probably met him when he was shooting the holiday webisode.”

  “I’m not going on any damn show, Fuzz.”

  Fuzzy wrinkled his brow. “Why not? Do you have any idea what something like this could do for your business? For all of Sapphire Springs?”

  Tim stood up from the desk and picked up the markdown list he’d printed off yesterday. “I have a ton of work to do this morning, so…”

  Oblivious to the hint, Fuzzy kept talking. “If the attention you’re getting from five minutes is any indication, think of the possibilities. There could be sponsorship opportunities, and—”

  Because his vibrating phone seemed like the only way out, he grabbed it out of the drawer. Thank God it was one of his best friends, Rob. “I’ve gotta take this, Fuzz.” He pressed his lips together. “It’s my therapist.”

  Fuzzy’s mouth formed a tight line, and he placed a hand over his chest. “Of course. I’ll let you get that. I’ll see you later, okay?”

  He waited for the door to close before he answered the phone. “Hello?”

  Rob’s voice held a hint of humor. “Finally. This is the fifth time I’ve tried to call you since last night. You practically broke the internet, dude.”

  “Okay, everyone just needs to relax.” Tim slapped the markdown list on the desk, paced to the window, and leaned on the sill, wishing it was summer so he could jump on his boat and drift away. “I did not almost break the internet.”

  “I know, I know,” Rob said. “I’m exaggerating. You’re just so adorbs.”

  Tim tugged at the collar of his shirt. “I’m hanging up.”

  Rob snickered on the other end of the line. “I’m sorry. I am. It’s just that I think this is the first time I’ve laughed in like six months, so forgive me.”

  His friend had been through a lot, with his wife cheating, and then him losing his shit and socking their boss, who she’d been screwing around with. It played out in a scene that ended up costing him his job and left him with minimal time with his kids until everything was worked out with the lawyers. “I guess I can allow it, momentarily, if it means a slight reprieve from your own turmoil. But don’t get used to feeling better at my expense.”

  “I won’t. I just called to make sure you’re doing okay.”

  Tim tapped a pen against his desk calendar. “Honestly, my head is spinning.”

  He looked up when he heard a soft knock on his door. Blake poked his head in the doorway and held his pinky finger and thumb up to his ear, miming that Tim had a phone call.

  “Hang on, Rob.” Tim lowered the phone away from his ear. “Who is it?”

  Blake kept his voice low, but his brows shot upward. “Some guy. He says he’s a producer on Behind Closed Doors.”

  Dread curdled in the pit of Tim’s stomach.

  “You want me to say you’re busy?”

  And then what? Field phone calls all day? “No.” He spoke back into his cell phone. “Rob, I’m going to have to call you back.” He ended the call and then looked at Blake. “All right. Let’s get this over with.”

  Chapter Three

  Emily pushed open the heavy door of the bustling coffee house, still half asleep. Normally by eight o’clock in the morning, she’d have put in a couple of hours in the kitchen, and her counters would be lined with cupcakes. Thankfully she’d decided to stay closed for the week, because sometime in the middle of the night, an idea came to her for an elaborate maple syrup–inspired cake that would be stunning in Tesoro’s front window. It left her tossing and turning, trying to decide if she was capable of pulling it off.

  “Em.” Her best friend, Leyna, waited near the front of the line, pointing toward the empty table in the corner.

  “Get me an oat cake,” she said to Leyna, squeezing the sleeve of her cherry-red coat on her way by. She’d need the extra kick to get her through the day. Snippets of conversation confirmed that the buzz around town continued to focus on Tim and the episode of Behind Closed Doors. Three days had now passed since Tim’s frantic phone call. It felt like the longest they’d gone without talking in a long time. The longest she’d ever managed to stick to a New Year’s resolution, too. She should be relieved, but his distance worried her. She hoped he was doing all right with his personal life being broadcast all over social media.

  The scraping of chairs on wooden floors drowned out the chorus of “Big Yellow Taxi” as she wove through the crowded space and claimed the small round table.

  Why was it that being single meant constantly being confronted with the image of happy couples? Didn’t she have enough romance thrown in her face every day in her line of work? Take the two sitting by the window holding hands. It was eight in the morning, for crying out loud. If she were lucky enough to have someone look at her that way—like she was the only woman in the world worth looking at—no other romantic gestures would be required.

  Okay, well, maybe a few gestures, like the occasional bouquet of flowers just because, and she obviously wouldn’t turn down the public hand-holding, especially now that the weather was freezing outside. Somebody to split one of Jolt’s massive brownies with. A warm body to cozy up with under the covers on a chilly night.

  Yep, that settled it. Being single sucked.

  Leyna juggled the oat cakes and a tray with two coffees and lowered into the chair across from Emily. She pried the cups out of the tray and passed one to her. “Large dark roast for you. If there’s not enough cream and sugar, you’ll have to go back and add some. The guy behind me was getting impatient.” She broke a piece off one of the oat cakes and sampled it. “I should not be eating this.”

  “Please. Stop being hard on yourself.” Emily picked up the other one and bit into it. Still warm.

  “If I want to fit into that wedding gown I’ve been lusting after, I need to lay off the five-hundred-calorie breakfast treats.” She licked crumbs off her fingers. “They’re just so damn good.”

  Leyna was one of those strikingly beautiful people who could roll out of bed and leave the house with no makeup, stuff her hair into a messy bun, and still turn enough heads to cause a minor collision. Emily, in contrast, had always just been cute. The term grew old by the time she’d become an adult. “Even if you ate one of those for breakfast every morning until the wedding, you’d still be stunning.” Emily tasted her coffee. To avoid the cluster of people gathered around the cream and sugar station, she fished a sugar packet from the emergency stash she kept in the pocket inside her purse. She ripped it open and emptied it into the tall cup, then she replaced the lid and swished it all around.

  “I can’t believe you need more sugar. I actually thought I overdid it this time.” Leyna tuck
ed her long chestnut hair behind her ear and leaned forward. “Clear a spot. Here comes Fuzz.”

  Sapphire Springs’ mayor also owned Jolt Café, or the coffee house, as locals referred to it. He fancied himself a bit of a town celebrity, stopping to chat with customers throughout the room and waving at people passing by the large front windows, in too big of a hurry to stop in.

  “Ladies,” he greeted them, snagging the wrought iron chair next to Emily when she moved her purse. “You’re both looking lovely this morning. And Leyna, I hear you and the mister set a date?”

  “May twenty-third, though I’d marry him right now if this one wouldn’t disown me.” She pointed a thumb in Emily’s direction. “She’s offered to plan everything.”

  Fuzzy shifted in his seat, narrowing his eyes at Emily. “You know I can perform marriages, right? I have the superpowers. Just saying.”

  Leyna almost choked on her coffee, and Emily had to fake a cough to conceal her laughter.

  Fuzzy was still talking, oblivious. “And how about you, councilwoman? You’re moving soon, right?”

  Emily nodded. “Around the end of the month, but just down the hall into a bigger place.”

  “You’re going to be one busy lady.” Fuzzy elbowed her. “On that note, don’t forget the council meeting next week.”

  On a long sigh, Emily fluttered her eyelashes. “How could I, with your constant texts?”

  He angled his head toward the Edison light fixture hanging over the table and gave a hearty laugh. “You saucy little thing. This meeting is going to be an important one. Our little town may stand to benefit from all this attention Tim’s been receiving. Have you seen the clusters of women flocking to Great Wide Open? It’s driving him crazy, poor guy.” He slapped the table before getting up. “I’ve gotta run. I’m meeting with a blogger about the town’s web channel. Ta-ta, ladies. See you soon.”