THE NEXT MORNING, once I had glanced around the street outside the restaurant to make sure no one was watching, I flipped my middle finger at the billboard of Emmett’s face as I passed.
I still couldn’t believe what he had asked me to do. The ego on him was unparalleled. I laughed out loud at the idea of us pretending to be a couple. I pictured him trying to put his arm around my shoulders while I gagged and pulled away. A snort escaped me. I didn’t have the acting skills to pull this off.
Even if I was willing to step into his radius of sickening charisma, no one in this town would believe I would date him.
No one.
In my office, a yellow sticky note sat on my computer screen. Call Keiko!
My stomach sank. If Elizabeth knew about me not being able to get a bank loan, Keiko knew, too. Was she going to tell me she found another buyer? Anxiety rippled throughout me at the idea of not only losing the restaurant but someone else owning it.
Emmett’s words from last night replayed in my head, and my hands clenched. That guy. I thought about him and his stupid, cocky, knowing grin from the second I got home last night until the moment I fell asleep. I had a terrible sleep, thinking about his stupid deal. There was no way I’d ever agree to play his girlfriend so he could win an election. The thought was revolting. No one would believe us. He’d have better luck convincing people by lugging a blow-up doll around town and naming it Avery.
Not to mention, we would be lying to the entire town. I couldn’t do it.
Regarding Isaac Anderson, he had a point. Isaac didn’t seem to do much as mayor. The town hosted a million tourists a year and yet there was never enough money for things we desperately needed. Business owners often resorted to crowdfunding or paying out of pocket to fix fallen trees near their property or crumbling sidewalks.
How immoral was it for Emmett to lie to the town if he was doing it for a good reason?
No, I told myself. I would not empathize with someone like Emmett Rhodes. Blegh.
That still left me at square one regarding the restaurant. I picked up the sticky note and studied it. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.
A spike of determination hit me, and I laughed out loud. No way. No freaking way. I was going to figure this out. I just didn’t know how yet, and that’s what I would tell Keiko.
I dialed her number.
“Hi, sweetie,” she answered.
I took a deep breath. “Keiko. Hi. I’m sure you’ve heard already—”
“That Emmett Rhodes is running for mayor? I know. Interesting.”
I frowned. “No. I mean, yes, he is, I don’t know who he thinks he’s fooling, but it’ll be entertaining to watch him try.”
Keiko laughed. “You’ll have to keep me updated once I’m in Vancouver. I put an offer in on the townhome yesterday, and the seller accepted.”
My eyes widened. “Wow. You put the offer in before selling the restaurant?”
“The real estate agent put a couple conditions in the contract, ‘subject to purchase of existing assets’,” she told me. “So, I won’t be bound to fulfill the contract unless I sell my house here and the restaurant. Standard real estate stuff. I put my house up for sale today, and I already have three offers! Can you believe that?”
“Wow,” I repeated. This was moving forward, and it was very, very real. Keiko hadn’t mentioned anything about my bank loan rejection. Was it possible she hadn’t heard?
“All that’s left is for you and me to meet at the bank, and I’m good to go,” she said.
She definitely hadn’t heard about me getting rejected.
“I was asking them about it this morning when I transferred the deposit for the townhouse,” she continued. “The paperwork to sell you the business will be simple.”
“Deposit? You put money down on the townhouse?” My stomach turned, and it was as if it was full of rocks. I swallowed.
“It’s standard to put down five percent of the purchase price when making an offer. If the deal falls through, the owners keep the deposit. The deal almost never falls through, though. Everyone wants to get paid. I have two months to get everything in order, which is less time than usual but I want to get moving on everything.”
My knee bounced up and down and my stomach twisted again. With purchase prices in Vancouver, five percent was a significant amount of money. Keiko would lose that money if she couldn’t sell the restaurant in two months.
I didn’t have a lot of time to figure things out.
“That’s great,” I croaked. “So great, Keiko.”
“I’m a bit busy this week with the townhouse, but can we set up a meeting at the bank sometime next week?”
“Mhm. That sounds great.” I pictured walking back into the bank and them chasing me out, yelling shoo! Get out of here! We already said no!
“Wonderful. Talk to you soon, honey.”
“Bye, Keiko.” I hung up the phone, tossed it onto my desk and put my head in my hands.
Keiko was selling the restaurant, and she was selling it fast. If I didn’t figure out a solution soon, she would have no choice but to sell it to someone else.
Emmett’s cocky grin flashed into my head, and I groaned.
“THERE’S MY SWEETHEART,” Emmett grinned as he opened his front door that evening.
I scowled at him.
I hated this. I’d been here for seven seconds, and I hated it. I hated everything about his smug, annoying face. His knowing expression, like he expected me to accept his deal and knew I’d come crawling back because I had no other options. I hated relying on someone else, and I especially hated relying on him because I got the sense he loved it.
But I wanted the restaurant, and I wanted to make things as smooth as possible for Keiko. So, I was doing this.
“Okay,” I forced the word out of my mouth.
His eyebrows went up. “Okay?”
“Okay.”
He beamed at me and extended his arms. “Let’s do a practice hug.”
I put aside my rage and focused on plotting Emmett’s slow, painful death. “You can hug me in your mind,” I told him, walking past him into his home.
“We’re going to need to practice affection if we want to sell this,” he called after me, closing the front door.
A few minutes later, we sat in the living room. Giant windows overlooked the forest around the house. Anywhere else, I would have wondered if the room would get too hot in the early evening sun, but the towering, two-hundred-year-old fir trees kept the place shaded and cool. The decor throughout the house was mid-century modern, all dark woods and clean lines, with the occasional interesting painting or vase, and big leafy plants. Photos of Emmet’s family popped up once in a while. The whole place had a Mad Men vibe to it and I wondered if he had chosen the decor himself. Probably not. Men like Emmett paid people to do things like this.
“The election is in two months,” Emmett informed me. “You know this town, as soon as they find out you and I are dating, they’re going to go nuts.”
He was right. Something like this would be all over town.
“When do you need the money? I can have the lawyer draft up a loan contract,” he said, pulling out his phone.
I shook my head. “I’d rather you cosign on my loan.” After this was all over, I’d rather pay the bank directly instead of him. Paying him would feel like I was on the hook long after this was all over. This deal was already humiliating enough, and I wanted to part ways with him as soon as I could.
He shrugged and put his phone away. “Sure, that’s fine.”
“And I’ll be the sole owner of the restaurant,” I told him.
He snorted. “I have no desire to get into the restaurant business. It’s all yours, Adams.”
I nodded, and the tension in my chest eased a little. I may be selling my soul to the devil, but at least he was agreeing to my terms.
“Five public appearances a week,” Emmett said.
I rolled my eyes. “Public appearances? Who are you, a nineteen-year-old popstar?”
“We can call them dates if you prefer.” He winked at me.
“One public appearance a week.”
“We’ll split the difference. Two a week.” He didn’t wait for me to agree. “How much PDA are you comfortable with?”
In my mind’s eye, I pictured Emmett and myself making out on a park bench like teenagers. I was straddling his lap, and his hands were in my hair. I blinked and shook it out of my head. That would not be happening.
“What?” he asked, frowning. “What’s that face?”
“Nothing.” I swallowed. My cheeks warmed. “Light hand holding.”
He laughed. “Light hand holding? What does that even mean? How is that different from regular hand holding?”
Er, I wasn’t sure. “I just want to avoid your politician’s death grip.”
He grinned at me. “Adams, no one is going to believe I’m dating a woman who will only allow some ‘light hand holding’ in public.”
I sighed. He was right. “Okay, public affection is fine, just don’t be gratuitous about it, alright?”
He raised an eyebrow at me. “Are you sure? I’m serious about this, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”
I gave him a flat look. “I’ll be fine. If you make me uncomfortable, I’ll let you know.”
He leaned back in his chair, balancing his ankle on his knee, regarding me. “There’s one more thing. I need a pair of your underwear.”
I choked on my wine, almost spitting it out onto Emmett’s couch. “What? Why?”
He grinned devilishly. “You’ll see.”
I shook my head. “So people can catch you sniffing them? No, thanks.”
His devilish grin widened. “My brothers are always over at my place. What better way to sell them on us than them finding evidence of us getting it on?”
I gagged. “Never say getting it on and us in the same sentence ever again.”
He looked at me expectantly.
“A sock,” I relented. “I’ll give you a sock.”
He put his hands up. “We’ll work our way up to underwear. Buy the nice stuff instead of whatever three-pack budget brand you wear.”
My mouth fell open. “I do not wear budget underwear.”
His mouth hitched again and he raised his eyebrows, watching me. “Oh, yeah? Tell me more about your underwear. This is great practice.”
My face heated, and I took another long slug of wine. “Is it a bad sign I’m regretting this so early on?”
He laughed. “Eye on the prize, Adams. You’ll get your restaurant soon enough.”
He was right. The restaurant deal was a sure thing for me, but there was no guarantee for Emmett. I cocked my head at him.
“What if you don’t win?”
He leaned on the armrest of his chair, smiling at me. “I will.”
“I just want to make sure if you don’t win, because people see through your extra-schmoozey smiles and faux questions of concern, my deal isn’t going to fall through.”
He glanced out the window. “I’m going to win.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and looked at me. “And as my girlfriend, you’re going to need to believe I’m going to win, too, otherwise no one in town will buy this.” He gestured back and forth between us. “But let’s say some meteor hits Queen’s Cove, wipes out the entire population except for the Andersons, and I don’t win.”
I held back a grin. I would not laugh, mostly because I didn’t think he was joking.
“You’ll still get your restaurant.” He shrugged. “I know you’re good for the money. You have too much pride.”
The sun was setting, and the warm light caught his gray eyes and gave his skin a golden hour glow. He watched me with a knowing expression, like he could see beneath my skin. The back of my neck prickled. I didn’t like how naked I felt when he looked at me like that.
But a tiny, minute fraction of me did like it. I brushed that feeling aside as fast as I could.
“So, after the election, we tell everyone we’ve broken up,” I tell him.
He nodded. “I figured we’d stop going on dates—”
“Public appearances,” I corrected.
“We’d stop going on public appearances, and then after a month or two, break the news we had broken up.”
“We should tell people we’ve been together for a while and wanted to keep it secret,” I mused.
His eyes lit up. “Great idea.”
“What about dating?”
“That’s what we’re doing.”
“No, I mean, dating other people.” I sent him an emphasized look. “You aren’t known for being celibate.”
He barked a laugh of disbelief. “Neither are you.”
My brows furrowed. “What are you talking about?”
A muscle in Emmett’s jaw ticked. “You usually date summer workers. Elizabeth mentioned you seeing some guy last summer, some guy who worked at Wyatt’s surf shop.” He surveyed me. There was something hard in his gaze. Irritation. “Seems like you always date people who have a defined date to go home, is that right?”
I was speechless. My mouth opened and closed, and I looked around the room. “Okay, so? I’m not looking for anything long-term and—” I shrugged. “—I’m a human and sometimes I need to get laid.”
The irritation faded from his eyes and a grin spread across his face. He looked absolutely delighted. He loved this conversation. He’d probably write it in his diary and re-read it again and again.
“Is there anything wrong with that?” I asked, defensive.
“Of course not.” His gaze skimmed over my form so briefly, I could have blinked and missed it. “Sex is important.”
My skin heated. “Great. I think if we’re discreet and no one finds out about it, it’s okay for us to date on the side.”
He shifted on the couch and rested his arm up along the back of it. So casual, except his eyes, narrowed on me. “No.”
“Excuse me?” My eyebrows shot up.
He shrugged. “Too risky.” He was very interested in something out the window, and kept his gaze glued there as he rubbed his jaw.
“You expect me to stay celibate?”
Look, I’d done it before. Of course I had. It wasn’t a big deal. It was two months. But the second I was told I couldn’t have something, I wanted it.
His gaze cut to me. “Didn’t know you were such a horndog.” The corner of his mouth tugged up but his jaw was still tense.
I stood. “That’s my cue to leave.”
That amused look was back. “Adams, I’m happy to provide as many boyfriend services as you need.” He followed me out of the living room to the foyer. “Day or night.”
I shook my head to myself. This was a mistake. Huge mistake. “Don’t wait by the phone.” I opened the door and stepped outside without another word.
“Avery.” Something sober in his voice made me pause, and I turned. He leaned against the doorframe with a thoughtful expression. Thick, dark lashes rimmed his eyes, and a tiny white scar sliced through his upper lip, barely noticeable. “I only go into business with people I trust.” He watched me, crossing his arms over his chest. “Can I trust you?”
I let the question hang there in the air. “I don’t feel good about lying to everyone, but if you’re going to fix the grid like you say you will…” My words trailed off. “Yeah, you can trust me.” I pointed a finger at his chest. “Can I trust you?”
He flashed me that wide politician’s smile with all his white teeth. “Of course you can trust me.”
I rolled my eyes. “Jesus Christ, you need to do better than that if you want to be mayor.”
His laugh followed me as I walked down the path, out of his yard. What had I gotten myself into? By the time I unlocked my door, I knew there were no other options. Besides, it was a couple months. I could do this. I’d be busy with the restaurant and they would pass faster than expected.
And at the end of it, I’d have my restaurant.
I smiled to myself, closing my eyes with excitement. The Arbutus would be mine, and it would be in my hands to carry on Keiko’s family legacy. No one could take it from me, no one could override my decisions, and no one could derail my dream. I’d be in full control. This ridiculous fake dating thing with Emmett was one tiny steppingstone to the rest of my life, and in five years, I wouldn’t even remember it.
