Page 86 of Faking the Pass
That way we’d both be assured of getting what we wanted from the arrangement, and no one would get hurt.
“Sounds like a party.” He smirked. “A contract for what?”
“For our temporary marriage. That way there’s no… confusion.”
My mind flashed back to the feel of him pressed along my backside this morning, the moments of very hot, very arousingconfusionthat had electrified me.
“Okay… say we did have a contract. What kind of things would you want in it?” he asked. “Like, no using each other’s toothbrushes, that kind of thing?”
“Sure. That. And… I want to pay you back for the wedding—as soon as I get my next acting job.”
Assuming I ever got another role.
Presley’s head dropped back on his shoulders, and he heaved an exasperated sigh.
“Will you please stop worrying about the money? It wasn’t even that much. Consider it a gift.”
“No. No gifts. I want that in the contract.”
“Should I be taking notes?” he asked in a sarcastic tone.
“That’s a good idea.”
I slid off the barstool and went to my carryon, unzipping it and pulling out the moleskine notebook I used for my morning journaling. Going back to the counter, I opened it to a blank page and wrote:
No sharing toothbrushes
No gifts
Rosie pays Presley back for wedding dress and reception
He peeked at my scribbles, somehow able to decipher them upside down.
“This is a little ridiculous. And I’m not going to tell you the cost, so how are you going to pay me back?”
“I’ll find out,” I said. “I know the wedding planner, too. Or I’ll guesstimate and throw in a little extra just to make sure it’s fair. You spent time planning it, too. Time isn’t free.”
He rolled his eyes. “Fine. Fine, we’ll split the wedding day cost—once you’re back on your feet financially and it’s no hardship. What else? You gonna pay me rent for your guest room?”
He blew out an aggravated breath as I wrote down:
Rent for room
