Page 22 of Right With You
My eyes narrowed on him. “And so you come here for a fix a few times a week.”
His mouth pulled into a smile. “Yes. You and Stone tend to be my suppliers for my sweet tooth.”
I laughed, enjoying that this man who, rumor had it, had been an actual model at some point in his adult life, had a sweet tooth.
And then it hit me.Cookie.
“Wait, is your nickname related to food preference?” I slid one stack of boxes into a bag, then another.
He huffed but it sounded good-humored. “Yes. I love most sweet things, but cookies are my true weakness. And when people in assessment and selection for EMU way back when figured that out, I had my name.”
I bit my lip, trying to hold back a true laugh. The idea that this stunningly hot, muscular, half-French man ended up with the nickname Cookie becausehe likes cookieswas just too adorable.
He waved a hand between us. “It’s alright. Go ahead and laugh. I embrace it and I’ll be happy to see your smile.”
The laugh that would’ve shot out with his permission got caught in my throat as his words registered, and yet again I was left with a fuzzy, warm, and imminently alarming feeling. With a rough clearing of my throat, I grabbed the last stack of boxes and slid them into a bag.
“I need to get these delivered soon,” I said, unsure what to do with him or myself or anything.
“I apologize for interrupting. I wanted to ask if I could take you to lunch or dinner sometime soon. We could nail down what this would look like more specifically. The obvious caveat here is that if you don’t want to be involved, please say the word and I’ll forget about all of it.”
He stayed rooted to the spot where he stood, hands tucked into his pockets.
This was a slightly odd posture because I could’ve sworn I’d noticed him being a fairly handsy talker. When I’d caught him joking or laughing with Kenny and Beast or even working, he used his hands in an interesting way. But any interaction we’d had thus far, they’d been tucked neatly away.
“I’m still willing. But I won’t take money for it. I’m not—I don’t need?—”
He held up his large hand—good confirmation they weren’t actually stapled into his pockets.
“I’m sorry I suggested you needed money. You deserve compensation of some kind for dealing with this situation, which is genuinely an imposition on you. I know you don’t have time right now, but I can lay out more fully what it’ll involve—again, if you’re comfortable—and it will take time. So if you won’t accept payment in a financial sense, maybe we can figure out a way this will be beneficial for you.”
Something in there gave me pause and sparked a realization. “Now that I think about it, Callum seemed to shrink when you said you were my boyfriend. You being my fiancé might deter him even more. That’s good for me.”
I’d get him off my back, giving me space to breathe and figure out a way to move on ahead, and so I could face his threat to sell Glazed head-on. His stake in the business should’ve been paid back over time. If he was dead set on pressing this issue, I’d figure it out and remove any ability to pressure me or even pretend he had a hold over me. Get him out of my life as soon as possible.
I crossed my arms over my chest and eyed him, the uptick in my pulse easing off as I decided he looked earnest. He never seemed to be deceitful on purpose, but I couldn’t ignore the context of this whole situation being rooted in deceiving his family. Then again, we’d both be lying in this situation. Pot, meet kettle.
“So you’re thinking there’ll be some public appearances? That kind of thing?” I asked, shrugging off this sleazy feel of using someone for my gain. Though it would be mutually beneficial here, not me being a parasite. I could take another minute and get some answers about how this would work. If I didn’t, I’d end up driving myself crazy thinking through it tomorrow.
“Yes. At least two from what I can tell based on their schedule, but likely a few more. And before then, if we intend to make it convincing, we’ll need to get to know each other a bit better.”
“Okay. That makes sense.” I wasn’t clear on exactly when or how this would happen, but I could do this. Having a fake fiancé for a while would drive home my unavailable status for Callum, even if it only lasted a few weeks. It’d make clear I’d moved on and maybe he wouldn’t have to know when we stopped spending time together.
Plus, I liked the idea of getting out of my own head and thinking about something else—someoneelse—besides myself and my business. It’d be a nice distraction from my work-focused reality, and also, Luc needed help. My help. I could grant it, and it wouldn’t really put me out, so why not do it?
“Good. Then I’ll text you to make our next plan, and in the meantime…” he said, his voice low and eyes that cool gray-green and the shadowy scruff on his cheeks looking just rough enough to scrape against skin in a delicious way, “…think of some way I can make this up to you.”
“You playing my boyfriend is enough.”
“Fiancé,” he corrected.
I swallowed hard and nodded, a kaleidoscope of images flashing through my mind in a crush so vivid and stunning, I nearly choked. Luc’s large hand cupping my face, Luc’s soft lips on my neck, Luc’s smooth voice whispering words into my skin in a language I couldn’t understand…
Whoa. No.
That was not the kind of fantasy this would be. It simply couldn’t be.
His brow furrowed like he might ask what was wrong, so I quickly turned and grabbed the bags for delivery. I would not explain how I’d just had an attack of fantastical physical interactions between us, as though my brain was suggesting that’s how he couldmake this up to me.
