Only for You Page 7

  “True. So that’s four people who will know. What about our families?”

  Rounded black fingernails traced across Emily’s lips as she mulled it over. “I hate the idea of lying to Mom and Nana, but I can already hear the disapproving lecture.”

  Tim’s hand settled on his chest. “You think they’d disapprove of me?”

  She snorted. “God, no, not of you, of the charade.”

  The ice queen had melted a little. Tim’s shoulders relaxed. “I know what you mean. I feel like my mom would really not give this fake relationship her blessing, and that has nothing to do with you. She likes you. She’d hate that I’m putting you in this position. Hell, I hate that I’m putting you in this position…” He trailed off when she lifted a hand.

  “So we spare our families the details, at least for now.”

  He nodded. “I think that’s best. What about dates? Should we go on one public date a week? Two?”

  “I feel like the better job we do of convincing people we’re together, the faster your life goes back to normal, so maybe two dates a week. We’ll split the bills.”

  “Nope.” Tim shook his head and met her gaze. “I pay for the dates. That’s nonnegotiable. The whole reason we’re in this predicament is because of me. What about PDA?”

  Emily’s eyes narrowed.

  “I mean, you just pointed out the better job we do of convincing people, the faster life goes back to normal. I think some gestures would make us more believable.”

  She smoothed the fringe of hair framing her face, then idly began to twist it—something she always did when she was deep in thought.

  “And I think hugging is good,” he added, his chair squeaking when he moved.

  She tugged on the strand of hair she twisted until the end of her finger turned red. She licked her lips and pressed them together before swallowing. “Any other…touching?”

  His eyes fixed on hers for a minute, and something in him stirred. He glanced away and shifted in the chair again, resulting in another squeak. “Maybe casual little things, like touching your arm, or fixing your hair.”

  Like right now another wispy piece had slipped out of her prim twist, and he got this weird urge to brush it off her forehead. Or maybe just tug on the clip holding it all up—let the twist unravel and watch her hair tumble onto her shoulders. Damn, ever since Rob had suggested dating Emily for real, his mind wandered once in a while. Gripping the arms of his chair, he cleared his throat and stole a glance at her lips. They looked candy coated. “If I’m crossing the line, say the word, but what about kissing?”

  He rushed to explain when she sucked in a breath. “We almost undoubtedly won’t have to, but it should be discussed in case the situation calls for it, like maybe for an Instagram post or something.”

  The coil of hair around her finger unraveled, and she tucked it behind her ear, hand trembling a little. “Let’s just agree to only kiss if necessary, and we’ll leave it at that.”

  She was probably getting weirded out. The idea of kissing him no doubt made her squirm.

  Standing, she buttoned her coat. “That should cover it, I think.”

  He trailed behind her to the door. “So when should we have our first date?”

  Her eyes darted to the left and then back to him. “I’ll leave that up to you.” With that, she pivoted on her heel, left his office, and headed for the exit.

  Blake surfaced in Tim’s doorway as soon as the doorbell announced her departure. “She change her mind?”

  Tim pointed to the door and waited for Blake to close it and sit down. “You cannot tell anyone about this. The only people who are going to know are you and our closest friends.”

  “You can trust me.” Blake gave the Scout’s honor sign. “Can I just say one thing?”

  Tim cocked a brow.

  “If you end up falling for each other for real, just remember who came up with the idea. You know, if you want to show your appreciation in the form of a raise?”

  Pushing his chair away from the desk, Tim gave a hearty laugh. “Have you forgotten who you’re talking to?”

  “Seriously, dude. I’d be amazed if it didn’t happen. I’ve said it before. She’s a catch.”

  Tim slapped Blake playfully on the back of his head as he passed by him. “Watch it—that’s my girlfriend you’re talking about,” he joked, opening the door.

  Blake shook his head and pushed out of the chair. “Lucky bastard.”

  Chapter Seven

  With Tesoro closed for the day, Emily hurried to the tenant entrance of the shoe factory and up the stairs to her apartment to change into jeans. She’d texted Leyna to see if she had time after work for an emergency meeting somewhere quiet, and they’d settled on Piper’s, the Irish pub around the corner on the harbor front.

  Fifteen minutes later, Leyna wound through the sparse crowd to the little corner table by the fireplace, where Emily sipped on a pint of beer. She unraveled her scarf and hung her purse on the arm of the heavy wooden chair. “Your text was a little cryptic.”

  Emily held up two fingers to the bartender to bring them a round. In no time, he brought their drinks and placed a bowl of pretzels in the middle of the table.

  “You’re not going to believe the predicament I’ve gotten myself into.” Emily set the empty bottle from her first beer aside and plucked a pretzel from the bowl to nibble on while she filled Leyna in on Nana’s upcoming biopsy and her new fake relationship.

  By the time she finished the whole story, Leyna’s grip on her beer bottle was so tight it looked like she might crack it. “I can’t believe Tim is asking you to do this. Has he even considered this from your perspective?”

  “Probably not, since he has no clue about my perspective.” Leyna had such a temper. Emily probably should have foreseen the outcome of this conversation.

  Leyna’s voice got louder. “It’s not fair to ask this of you. You’re putting your own life on hold for some farce, just so he can—”

  “Calm down.” Emily spoke in a harsh whisper.

  “You’re worried sick about your grandmother, and—”

  “He doesn’t know about that. Nobody does.”

  “Even still, you were already feeling like you had a lot on your plate with the wedding and moving and work…This is just so…selfish.” Leyna’s hands waved with frustration.

  “Yes, it is, which is the reason I initially said no. He hadn’t thought the plan through at all when he first came to me. It was like a joke, like he thought I was going to get a big kick out of it.” Because she was roasting now from the fire, she pushed up the sleeves of her black sweater. “But I countered and ended up getting Nana’s party out of it. This birthday is really important to her.”

  Leyna leaned against the chair’s curved backrest and her tone softened. “I get that you want to give your nana the party she has her heart set on, but I still think this fake relationship is a bad idea. Maybe if you’d never had feelings for him, it could work, but this is Tim we’re talking about. I just don’t see any way this can end without you getting hurt.”

  Emily shook her head and began balling up a bar napkin. “I disagree. I’m still committed to putting those feelings for Tim behind me. This charade is temporary, and once it’s over, I’ll go back to the plan to avoid him.”

  Leyna glanced over her shoulder and leaned in closer to talk over the Irish music and the chatter from the bar. “After you’ve paraded yourselves around town as a couple, you think you’ll just file that experience under life lessons and move on to seeing other guys again? You’ll be comparing everyone to him. You pretty much were already.”

  She hated that Leyna was probably right. Still, she intended to put him behind her once and for all, even if it would be harder after a little taste of the real thing. “Maybe this experience is exactly what I need to get past him. Maybe this is my chance to see what it would really be like for us to be together. It could be a wake-up call that he’s nothing like the fantasy version of him in my hea
d. This could be a chance for me to see that maybe he’s not the perfect guy I’ve always thought he was.”

  Leyna bit her lip. “And if the opposite happens? You fall in love with him and then this hashtag crap blows over and you have to go back to pretending there’s nothing there? And you’re further cemented in the friend zone than ever before?”

  Emily squared her shoulders. “I’m not going to fall in love with him. I’m past the point of holding out hope he’s ever going to see me that way.” Clearly she didn’t meet his standards. He’d said as much loud and clear when he presented the deal, after all. It’s you and me, so we know where we stand. It’s not like we have to worry about feelings getting involved.

  “Anyway, we agreed to a bunch of terms beforehand so we’re both on the same page. It’s going to be fine.”

  Leyna sighed and shook her head, bracing her elbow on the table. “I don’t like it, but it sounds like your mind is made up. Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  She couldn’t blame Leyna for her reservations. She was just looking out for her. Hell, Emily would give the same advice to anybody else in her predicament.

  “You don’t need to worry so much. I’m a big girl, and I can handle it.”

  Leyna remained quiet and picked at the label of her beer with her thumbnail. “I know this sounds crazy, but now that there’s nobody in the picture for either of you, have you ever considered actually telling him how you feel? He may not turn and run in the opposite direction, like you seem to think.”

  Emily fiddled with her hoop earring. Sure she’d thought of it, but whenever she’d summoned a bit of nerve in the past, it always backfired in her face. Take the time in high school when she got up the courage to give him a mixtape that spelled out all her feelings and he simply said Thanks, Shorty, and tossed it into the back seat of his Honda Civic, never to be seen again. He never mentioned it afterward, so she was sure he didn’t even bother to listen to it.

  “You’re thinking about the mixtape.” Leyna groaned. “Ugh, you’ve got to get over that. You were sixteen.”

  “I am not thinking about the mixtape.” After all, an even worse event hung over her that she’d never told anyone about, not even Leyna. It was right after she’d moved back to Sapphire Springs and opened Tesoro. Tim had been out of the Navy for about a year and had opened the boat shop. She’d been at this very pub, drowning her sorrows over getting dumped by her boyfriend Bradley, when Tim had come along and sat at the bar with her. He’d consoled her and walked her back to her apartment. His kindness made her crush come roaring back.

  She’d invited him in and poured him a drink. At some point she turned her face toward his and leaned in to kiss him. No matter how drunk she’d been, she’d never forget Tim’s expression changing to panic before he backed away and held her at arm’s length. Whoa, he’d said, probably revolted by her breath. I like you, Em, but it’s not gonna happen, okay? It’s not a good idea. You’re drunk and missing your boyfriend. I’d never take advantage of you like that. Besides, we’re friends, right?

  To save face, she’d done the only thing she could think of in a split second—she started laughing and tried to pass it off as being drunk, like the idea of them was the most utterly ridiculous notion she’d ever had. Then she’d turned into a blubbering mess and begged him not to tell anyone. He swore he wouldn’t, and as far as she knew, he’d kept his promise. Neither of them ever brought it up again. Emily played oblivious, pretending to forget the entire ordeal, and whether Tim bought it or not, he’d spared her the embarrassment of reliving it.

  Emily pushed the bowl of pretzels toward Leyna. “You know why I can’t tell him how I feel. It would just be too awkward when he inevitably rejected me.”

  Leyna picked a pretzel from the bowl and snapped it in half with her teeth. “At least you’d be out of this purgatory. Why are you so certain he’ll reject you, though?”

  The pretzels weren’t far enough away. Emily grabbed another. “Just let me see how this stint as his pretend girlfriend goes. If the opportunity presents itself, I’ll think about being honest.”

  “I suppose that’s fair.” Leyna tipped her bottle back and finished her beer. She slowly set her bottle down on the table and pressed her lips together, a line forming between her brows.

  Emily’s eyes narrowed. “What’re you thinking?”

  Leyna drummed French manicured nails on the table. “Maybe this fake dating idea isn’t so outlandish, now that I think about it from a different perspective. Pretending to be his girlfriend could be the perfect opportunity to spend a little more time with him and show him what he’s been missing out on all these years.”

  Emily blinked a few times and leaned forward. “You mean to give him a glimpse of how great we could be together?”

  “Exactly.”

  Emily waved off the idea. “I think you’re trying too hard to turn the tables in my favor. He’s had years to see me in a different light and never noticed yet.”

  Leyna shrugged. “Never say never.”

  Emily sat up straighter in her chair and washed down another pretzel before changing the subject to wedding details. Still, she couldn’t quite dismiss Leyna’s idea. What if her friend was right?

  This fake relationship would have to be the final straw, though—a last-ditch effort. If she and Tim engaged in the little charade for a while and she still had zero effect on him, well, then, she’d accept he was never going to reciprocate her feelings and move on.

  For real this time.

  Emily was the last to arrive at the council meeting. She rushed into town hall’s upper-level board room, whispered an apology spiel to no one in particular—something about a disaster involving burned chocolate—and snagged the seat Tim had been saving her. A nice wave of coconut drifted into his space when she plopped onto the chair.

  Her blond hair was piled up on her head, with stray pieces falling out of the messy bun. She pulled a mint-green day planner out of her massive purse, ready for business. Fuzzy leaned over to say something to her, and whatever it was, it relaxed her posture and had her mouth dropping open and her shoulders shaking.

  Though Tim didn’t catch the remark, he faked a smile while the others around the table chimed in with laughter. Em looked so good when she laughed. Really laughed, like she used to every time he told a lame-ass joke.

  Lately when she laughed, it wasn’t very convincing.

  He’d called the conference organizer this afternoon and broke the news that he had to cancel one of the groups slated for a boat tour. They weren’t happy, but he smoothed it over by using Emily’s computer glitch excuse, and by the end of the phone call, he seemed to be back in their good graces. He still didn’t like backing out, but a deal was a deal.

  “Since we’re all here, let’s get down to business,” Fuzzy said over the hum of everyone’s voices. He opened his agenda and instructed the secretary to go over the minutes from the last meeting.

  Tim clicked the end of his pen and stole a glance around the room. Lars, the seedy guy helping Fuzzy with the web channel, sat across the table. He wasn’t even on the town council, but Fuzzy dragged him everywhere. Tim didn’t trust him for some reason. Probably because he always looked like his wheels were turning. And the fact that he’d left Tim three voice mails since last week, thirsty for a juicy story he could piggyback off of Mel’s TV show for the web channel.

  A couple of people stared into their laps, trying—and failing—to be subtle as they scrolled through their phones. Margo, the town treasurer, punched numbers into a calculator, no doubt preparing to be put on the spot. Emily stared straight ahead, lips curved upward in a dreamy little expression.

  Maybe he should nab her after the meeting—take her out for a beer. They were supposed to be dating, after all.

  After Margo updated everyone on the final revenue from Sapphire Sparkles, the town’s annual holiday festival, Fuzzy segued into the new business portion of the agenda—the next slew of events in Sapphire Springs.r />
  He started with Winter Carnival, which took place the last two weeks of the month. Luckily, Tim dodged that committee when Fuzzy selected the team, being so busy with the pre-holiday festivities. Emily twirled a loose strand of hair around her finger, clearly not listening. She’d gotten out of helping for the same reason, and because she’d be busy moving into the new apartment during Winter Carnival.

  Tim’s back pocket vibrated again, evoking a daydream where he sailed into the middle of the ocean and tossed his cell phone toward the blazing horizon.

  Fuzzy had moved on to the annual Maple Syrup Festival, which would start on the last Friday in March. Tim cleared his throat and pulled his chair closer to the table to turn his attention back to the meeting.

  “We’ll continue the tradition of guided tours of local syrup producers, but let’s shake things up this year. Maple syrup has gone stale around here, and with the extra attention Sapphire Springs is getting right now, I think we can and should do better.” Fuzzy glanced at him and winked.

  Tim’s jaw hardened.

  Emily wrinkled her brow. “Isn’t it a little late in the game to shake up the festival? It’s maple syrup. It’s pretty hard to make that interesting.”

  A chorus of agreement murmured around the table.

  Fuzzy raised a hand to silence them. “Au contraire. That’s where you’re wrong. Maple syrup might prompt images of lumberjacks and pancakes, but there’s so much more we can tap in to. No pun intended.” He snickered at his own joke.

  “What exactly did you have in mind?” Margo asked from her spot at the table, her index finger hovering over her calculator.

  “I’m glad you asked.” Fuzzy tented his fingers. “I want you all to close your eyes and imagine with me for a minute.” When all he got from the group were impatient brow lifts and wrinkled noses, he rolled his eyes and continued.

  “Fine, keep them open, whatever. First, I propose we change the generic name to…” He paused for effect before going on. “Maple Magic Festival.” Fuzzy swiped his hand through the air in an arc and squinted at the fluorescent light, as though describing a picture painted on the ceiling. “Like all festivals, we’ll bring the heart of the celebration to town square. Participating businesses will commit to a window display and extended hours for the weekend, as well as some kind of promotion of their choice, be it save the tax, a special sale, or whatever. Even offering hot cocoa goes a long way in encouraging customers to come in and wander. Think of it as open houses of all our fine shops. Everyone is pretty much doing this anyway, but we’ll make it splashy by printing handy little passports and maps, so patrons can do a walk and shop while buskers and such entertain in town square, weather permitting.