Chapter 5

He's hotter than blue blazes—freaking hot. Daddy doesn't like it when I use my maternal grandmom's phrases. He says it makes me sound like a redneck which makes me want to say it to his face.

Before meeting Beckett, internally, I appreciated that Daddy for made it clear that Beckett couldn't touch me. Now that I've met him, sex is definitely on the table—and I do mean on the table.

If I had hand-picked Beckett, I would be happy, but Daddy can't dictate that I marry someone I don't love and then demand there'll be no sex. He knows I'm not a virgin after catching Jazarius and me in a compromising position this past spring.

The longer I lie by the pool, the more I refuse to accept that as my fate. Why should I be the only one not receiving something from this transaction?

I know three things about my future fake husband.

He's a biker.

He's sinfully hot.

He's getting money from Daddy.

The question is what is Beckett doing for Daddy? And what do I want out of this? I'll play along until I find out. And the game starts now.

Me: I can't wait to hear you call me your "Good Girl."

I wait ten minutes for him to respond.

Beckett: How did you get my number? I'm supposed to call you.

Me: I sent your contact to me when I added my phone number in yours.

Old people are truly tech illiterate. It's ridiculous that I have to explain this. But it might be to my advantage.

Beckett: Oh.

Me: You're a man of few words.

Beckett: Yep.

Me: We need to go on a date.

Beckett: I'm busy.

Me: Too busy or scared I may be too much to handle?

I love it when I see bouncing dots. It means he's not too busy.

Beckett: Where?

Me: You're supposed to be wooing me. Everyone in this town knows I would never settle for someone who doesn't take me out dancing.

Beckett: Not taking you dancing.

Me: We could go to the Tiger's Den and watch others dance.

Beckett: No. I'll take you to dinner.

I knew that he wouldn't take me to strip joint.

Me: Now, that's a good fiancé.

Beckett: Pick you up at eight. Wear those shiny shorts under your dress.

Me: What?

Beckett: Nothing.

Shiny shorts? What's he talking about?

I know Serita's here when I hear Flowers, by Miley Cyrus blasting from her portable speaker.

"Sorry I'm late. Had a shift at the nursing home."

I tip my sunglasses down and look at her in her cream, macrame-style bikini with a loose, sheer, red coverup. I've always wished I had her complexion and hair. "Don't blame it on work. You're notorious for being late." She pops open a black cherry seltzer and hands it to me. "You work too much. I can't believe you have two jobs, and I don't have one. Actually, Daddy gave me a print campaign to work on for the Summer Spectacular Car Giveaway. "

"Goals. Saving for my own house. You don't need to work."

"I want to. I love designing and thinking about what the customer would respond to. What would make them click to come to the dealership?"

Serita removes her coverup. "I know. It came out wrong."

Letting it go, I tap the lounge chair beside me. After she's settled and has applied her sunscreen, we raise our glasses and toast to the summer.

"I met someone, and he came for dinner."

She squeals, swinging her legs over the side of the chair to face me. "What? Who? When? Oh my God, I sound like our ninth-grade English teacher."

This is why I love Serita; she makes me laugh, and we just click. It doesn't matter how long it's been since we've seen each other, whether it's been three days or five months, we pick up right where we left off.

"A friend of Daddy's."

Before I'm even finished with my sentence, her eyebrows take a deep dive, and she curls up her lips in disgust. I hold one finger up.

"Do you remember the biker who was staring at me at The Whiskey Waltz?"

As soon as I utter the words Whiskey Waltz, I remember that I was wearing black, shiny lollies under my dress, which means he was watching me as I danced. He's attracted to me. I didn't imagine the tension or the heaviness of the air around us.

Her eyes widen as she nods.

"Well, Daddy had him over for dinner." I change the events to fit what Daddy and I discussed. "Daddy had to take an urgent call from Japan, and Mama was cleaning up. So, Beckett and I were left alone."

"And?"

"He's quiet but scorching hot. He looked completely different than at the bar. He wore tight dress pants that stretched across his ass, thighs, and wow, he's sexy."

"Did you all do the dirty?"

"No. Girl, but I imagine he could last all night. But we held hands for a minute, and he asked me out on date."

Technically, I made him ask me on a date.

"Oh my God, when?" She tents her fingers over her nose.

"Tonight."

"How old is he?"

"Thirty-three."

She tips her head to the side and back. "That's only eleven years. Where are you going and more importantly, what are you wearing?" She taps her forefinger against her lips. "Instead of college girl, let's go with something sexier."

Giggling, I inform her, "He mentioned my black lollies under my dress."

"Hmm… maybe he likes the young, fresh look. But instead of your cowboy boots, wear the three-inch heels with the bow in the back."

I grab a piece of pineapple from the bowl beside me and pop it into my mouth. "I'm wearing a dress that shows off my assets." I squeeze my boobs, and we laugh.

"Trying to tempt him on the first date, huh?"

"Hell yeah."

We spend the afternoon chatting about music, catching up on who's married, pregnant, and then she helps me choose what to wear.

My parents have a meeting about the Taste of E-town Festival, so they're absent when the doorbell rings. And I make him wait. I told Henry to take off for the evening.

Beckett doesn't ring the bell again; he just waits.

I open the door slowly. "Sorry, I couldn't decide on a dress. I know how much you wanted me to wear my lollies, but they were wet and dirty," I say with my words coming out slow and seductive. He needs to know I'm going to break every rule Daddy made.

His lips part, but he doesn't speak. Beckett scans my body, starting at my breasts. Serita is a genius—picking this light-pink spandex dress that hugs my curves and barely constitutes a tunic, much less a dress. It hits just a couple of inches past my ass. His eyes dip to my hips and then fall to my heels and painted blue toenails.

"A gentleman would say how nice I look." I turn to close the door and bend just enough for my ass to press against him. When I turn back around, he's looking into the sky. "But you're not a gentleman, are you?"

"Even a gentleman would get the wrong idea in that dress."

I look into the circular driveway and spot the black SUV. "Where's your bike?"

"Wouldn't want to mess up your hair."

We walk down the five steps, and he opens the door before walking around to his side. He pauses before lifting the handle. At least I'm getting to him. I'm going to make him defy my father. If I'm marrying this man, I'm going for a test drive first. I chuckle at my thoughts of him bending me over his bike.

Beckett discreetly sneaks a glimpse of my tanned legs and shakes his head. And as a woman, I can sense his silent interest.