Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Luke

“ L uuke, my man.” My friend, Derek, always managed to make my name sound like a wolf call. “A few of us are going out for beers. Care to join us?”

I pulled my gaze away from my latest distraction, the cleaning woman. She was struggling to vacuum our over-crowded main office. She’d already crashed into the wooden planter box and, adorably, tried to put the pieces back. I still had a dozen windows open on my computer, all tasks I needed to finish. “Still got too much to do. Next time.”

“Just hurry up and get the stuff done. Come on. Just a beer or two. You’ll be gone all weekend at the big wedding.”

A crashing sound pulled my focus back to the window looking out over the main floor. The woman had gotten her vacuum cord tangled around a rolling chair, and she’d dragged it along with her as she moved to the next set of desks. The chair got free of the cord and flew into a set of file drawers. “Next time. Drink one for me. Later.”

As I hung up, my phone rang. It was Mom. I could ignore it but then she’d leave a fifty-minute voicemail about how a son should always answer a mom’s call because it might be something very important like she’s on her deathbed or someone is holding her hostage for ransom. That wasn’t an exaggeration. She’d used both of those examples before. Another classic was “What if I was on a sinking yacht out in the Atlantic and you were my one phone call?” Only my mother knew how to come up with uniquely posh distress calls.

“Hey, Mom, I’m still working. Is it important?”

She cleared her throat. “Any call from your mom should be considered important.”

“Right. Forgot that rule.”

“You’re going to be here Thursday, right?”

“Planning on it. I’ll leave here early in the morning, so I should be there around five or six.”

“That’s good. We’re having dinner at eight.” I could hear the matchmaker gears spinning through the phone. “There’s someone I want you to meet. The Carltons recently moved here from Manhattan, and Alexandria’s mom has already become a good friend of mine. Alexandria was away in Europe for three years, and she needs to meet people. Naturally, I thought of you. You’ll be the perfect chaperone for the weekend.”

“Actually, Mom, I’ve met someone. I didn’t want to tell you until I was sure it was going to work out. Things are going really well. I think she might be the one.” The buzz of the vacuum got closer. It seemed the woman had managed to tame her vacuum in our jungle of plants. It was sort of nuts to have my mind wander off the conversation considering the major lie bomb I’d just dropped, but I couldn’t help but watch the antics outside my office window.

“What do you mean you’ve met someone, Lucas?”

“Well, there was this woman, and we said hello and from there I asked her to dinner?—”

“Oh, stop. You know I hate it when you’re facetious. I need to know who she is. Her name, her family, their connections.”

“See, and I hate it when you act like a snobby Victorian matriarch. You’ll meet her this weekend.”

“We can’t allow just anyone to spend the weekend at the house with us.” Sometimes my mom had snobbery down to an artform. And I always found it hard to talk to her when she was like this.

“Mom, I’ve got work to do. I’ll see you on Thursday.”

“Fine. We’ll be very interested to meet this young woman.”

“She’s anxious to meet you, too. Bye.”

I dialed Derek back. “Ha, you changed your mind,” he said.

“Nope, still a raincheck on the beer. I need a date for Rachel’s wedding. I need someone who will pretend to be my very serious girlfriend for the weekend.”

Derek laughed hard enough to end up in a short coughing fit. “Sure, I’ll just call up some of the women I know, and say, hey, you know my friend, Luke Greyson, the country’s most sought-after and eligible bachelor? Well, he needs you to pretend to be his girlfriend. After that, you may carry on with the rest of your life and forget you ever met him. Yep, that’ll go over well.”

“Sorry I asked,” I said.

“Yeah, that’s rich. It really is. What’s up? Your mom playing the wicked matchmaker of the west again?”

“Something like that.” My gaze drifted back to the window. The cleaning woman had stopped her vacuum. She was dusting the shelves behind Rosalie’s desk. She stopped, glanced around, including my direction, and I sat up straight. “It can’t be,” I muttered.

“Why the hell not? Your mom has been trying to find you a bride since before you bought your first razor.”

I’d forgotten the phone call. “I’ll talk to you later, Derek.” I hung up and sat back in my chair.

It was the woman from the coffee cart. She was wearing a dark cap that hid her blonde hair, and the ill-fitting uniform hid her sweet curves. She glanced around once more and then dipped her hand into the candy bowl. Something made her startle. She pulled her hand out too fast, and the entire bowl tipped over. Hundreds of pieces of candy cascaded off the desk and exploded in a colorful hailstorm all over the floor. She covered her mouth in shock and then quickly stooped down to pick up the candy.

I walked across the office and opened the door. She spun around fast, still crouched. A blush washed over her face, and she casually stuck a handful of the fallen candy into her uniform pocket. She hopped to a stand. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have ...” She glanced frantically around at the candy-dotted floor, and a smile, a fantastic one at that, appeared just before she broke out in laughter.

I laughed too. “Maybe Rosalie won’t notice,” I said.

She took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I didn’t get enough sleep, and I was hungry and I—” She shook her head. “No excuse. It’s all right. I wasn’t good at this job anyway.” She tugged at the collar on her blouse. “And this uniform is so itchy. I’ll pick up the candy while you let my boss know she needs to send someone more competent to do the job.” Her blue eyes looked glassy with tears.

“Why would I call your boss? Let’s get these picked up.”

Her lips parted in surprise. “You’re going to help me? No, I mean, I’ll take care of it. I’m sure you have more important things to do.”

I stooped down. “You work two jobs?” I asked and immediately regretted it. I grew up in ridiculous privilege, but I always tried to avoid the snobbery that came with my life and my family. I knew other privileged people who couldn’t understand why everyone didn’t own a nice house or a boat or why someone would work forty hours a week or more. I tried to distance myself from those people as much as possible.

“Uh, something like that.” She grabbed a trash can, and we dropped the candy inside.

“You don’t usually work at the coffee cart,” I said.

She stopped her task long enough to look back at me. Her blue eyes knocked me senseless for a moment. “I was covering for my friend, Amber.”

We continued to collect the fallen candy.

“I’m saving up to start a bakery,” she said quietly.

“That’s great. People didn’t stop talking about your cakes. Even my assistant, Rosalie, and she never eats treats.”

We’d gotten most of the candy picked up. I pushed to my feet and offered her my hand. A pink blush covered her cheeks again. She didn’t take my hand but pushed herself to her feet. “I’m so sorry about this. I should never have taken the candy.”

“Rosie leaves it there for people to enjoy.” I glanced at her nametag. “Your name is Isla. I’m Luke.” I stuck my hand out again. This time she took it. The warmth of her hand stayed on my palm long after she withdrew it.

“You pronounced my name right,” she said, surprised. “You’d be amused if you heard some of the ways people say it.”

“I’m glad not to fall into that category then. Isla, I’ve got a proposition for you.” I realized I’d worded it badly the second it left my mouth.

Some of the color disappeared from her smooth cheeks, and she stepped discreetly back.

“No, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything like that. Although, it does require you to do a little acting. How are you at that?”

Her smooth brows bunched as she tried to decide exactly what the apparent madman in front of her was asking. I was usually a much better communicator. I blamed it on the distraction of her incredible blue eyes and soft pink lips.

“Acting? Uh, well, my sisters and I used to put on plays. But if I’m being totally honest, I was better at set design than acting. My sister, Layla, is the thespian.”

“Well, this won’t take thespian-level talent. We just need to convince my family, mostly my mom, that we are a legitimate couple for a long weekend. My sister is getting married. I’ll pay you five thousand.”

“Five thousand? Dollars?” she asked with wide eyes.

“No, five thousand M&M’s. Of course, dollars.”

Her lips twisted in thought and then her expression turned far more serious. “What will be expected of me?”

I shook my head. “Nothing like that. I assure you my mother will see that you have your own guest room. You just need to be polite and smile a lot. Oh, and we’ll keep you away from candy dishes.”

“Very funny. So, I smile, act polite?—”

“And pretend that you are madly in love with me.” I took her hand. It was small and got lost in mine. “And, of course, I’ll reciprocate the affection.”

She squinted an eye at me as she leaned against the front of Rosie’s desk. “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why are you bringing a fake girlfriend along to your sister’s wedding? I mean, you’re more than tolerable to look at?—”

“Good to know that I don’t repel you.”

“You don’t.” Her blue gaze swept around the office. “I think it’s a given that you’re quite successful. Why would a man like you need to pay for a date? You must have a black book the size of an Oxford Dictionary.” Her face smoothed like stone. “Are you some kind of a?—”

I looked at her in question. “Care to finish that question?”

“You know—are you a—hmm, how would Layla say it—an off-kilter weirdo?”

I held in a laugh. “As far as I know I’m not a weirdo, although I won’t say the same about being off-kilter, at least not in my family’s mind. What do you say, Isla? Are you interested?”

“Will there be lots of goodies and drinks?”

“Guaranteed. So, you can eat and drink and smile and be polite and then we’ll leave, and I’ll give you five thousand dollars you can put toward that bakery of yours. That’ll be the end of our transaction.”

Her crooked, wary half-smile might have been her best smile of all. “You make it sound so romantic,” she said wryly.

“Nope. Nothing romantic about it. There’ll be a lot of people at the house for the wedding, so you can just stand off in the distance, fade into the background and people watch. I can guarantee you some very interesting people watching.”

“Hmm, can I have some time to think about it?” she asked.

“I’m leaving for the wedding day after tomorrow—Thursday. The wedding is Sunday, and we’ll be back on Monday.”

She pushed off the desk. “This Thursday? I can’t. I have to work.” She crossed her arms, importantly. “Seven thousand.”

I smiled.

“All right. Six thousand, five hundred. I’ll be missing several days of work.”

“I’ll pay you seven.”

Her eyes lit up, then her lips pulled down. “I don’t have anything to wear. Is it a fancy wedding?”

I thought about the seven-figure wedding my sister had been planning for the last year. “It’s pretty fancy. Tell you what, I’ll Venmo you five hundred dollars for some clothes and shoes.”

“Does that come off the seven thousand?”

I laughed. “You’re a shrewd businesswoman.”

“My future bakery is on the line here, so yep, I’m feeling pretty cutthroat about it all.”

“The clothing money is extra.”

She lifted a finger and pointed. “Can I keep the clothes?”

“Sure, for your next fancy wedding.”

She shook her head. “Nope, I can resell them online. Five hundred is a used industrial-sized mixer.”

“Fair enough. What do you say? I can pick you up Thursday morning, around seven. It’s an eight-hour drive to my parents’ house. I can fill you in on names and details on the way.”

Isla leaned against the desk again and bit her lip in thought. “Should we write up a contract?”

“We could, but I’m fine with a verbal agreement and a handshake.” This was possibly my craziest plan ever, but if it got my mom off my back for a while, it would be worth it.

Isla stuck out her hand. “You have a deal, Mr.—”

“Greyson. Lucas Greyson.”

“Isla Lovely.”

I smiled and waited for her to crack a smile. “Your last name is Lovely?”

“It is.”

I nodded. “Actually, it fits.” I pulled out my phone. “We’ll exchange numbers and then you can send me your address.”

“Will you tell my boss about the candy catastrophe?” she asked.

“Your catastrophe is safe with me. And don’t worry, I’ll buy some replacement candy, so Rosie will be none the wiser.”

“We’ve got a deal,” she said with an emphatic nod.

I turned to go back to the office.

“Mr. Greyson?”

I turned around. “You can call me Luke, considering, you know, that we’re an item.”

“And you can call me Isla. Of course.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m such a nerd.” Her blushes were nothing short of beautiful. “I was just going to ask—what if we actually fall in love?”

I smiled and chuckled as I turned back to the office.