She’s spunky, outspoken, unlike any girl I’ve met, that’s for sure. And she’s right. I should be scared. She seems to have the kind of tenacity that would bring a man to his knees, but she also is a qualified candidate for what I’m looking for, and I’m three days away from a dinner date. I’m willing to roll the dice.
“I have no game—”
“Don’t bullshit me.”
Wow, she really calls it like it is.
“Just tell me what your endgame is.”
“Fine,” I say, seeing where this is going. “I might be in the need for a fake fiancée.” I’ll keep the pregnant thing to myself for now.
“A fake fiancée?” she asks. “Why?”
I glance around at our surroundings. “I don’t tend to talk business in the middle of the neighborhood. If you’re interested in talking about this, then why don’t you meet me at the Chipotle on Santa Monica and Beverly in an hour?”
“Chipotle?” she asks, dumbfounded. “You’re rich—supposedly—and that’s where you want to meet for dinner?”
“I like burritos,” I say with a shrug. “Plus, anywhere else isn’t going to accept someone wearing four-seasons-ago leggings and a sports bra into their establishment.” Even if the sports bra makes her tits look amazing.
She doesn’t answer right away, instead, takes her time, but when she does answer, she says, “That’s fair. Care to direct me back to my house so I can put on something more suitable for Chipotle?”
“Sure.” I pull out my phone and open the Google Maps app. I hand her my phone and let her figure it out on her own. “My name is Huxley, by the way.”
Her eyes flutter up to mine. “Huxley, huh, that’s an interesting name. Any inspiration from Huckleberry Finn?”
“Not that I’m aware of.” When she goes back to the phone, I ask, “And you would be . . .”
“Lottie,” she says, zooming in on the phone and gaining her bearings as she glances around the streets.
“Lottie. Any inspiration from a lollipop?”
Her brow raises when she looks up at me. “No. It’s actually short for Leiselotte. But no one, and I mean no one, calls me that. Not even my parents.” She points at me. “And don’t even think about calling me that. Got it?”
I hold up my hands in defense. “Got it.”
“Good.” She hands me back my phone and says, “I know where I’m going now. I’m about a mile away.”
“Will an hour be long enough for you to get back?”
“Do you think I’ll be crawling?”
So fiery.
So fierce.
“No, just not sure how long it would take you to, you know . . . shower.”
Her brows shoot up to her hairline. “Are you implying I stink?”
Jesus.
I drag my hand over my face. “No, I just . . . I don’t know what you need to do to get ready.”
She holds up one hand. “Trust me, it won’t take long. I’m not here to impress anyone.” She takes a step back. “Chipotle, in an hour.” She points at me. “You’re buying.”
And then she takes off at a jog, and for some reason, I keep my eyes trained on her heart-shaped backside.
Business. Opportunity. Cane. That’s what I need to focus on, because Little Miss No-One-Calls-Me-Leiselotte might be just the woman I need. Smart. Quick on her feet.
Desperate.
“What do you mean, you’re leaving?” JP asks from my dining room table. “And why are you dressed like that?”
“Like what?” I ask as I adjust the cuffs on my button-up shirt.
“As if you’re about to go on a date,” Breaker answers before taking a sip of his beer.
“Because I am.”
Both of my brothers sit up in their chairs and set their beers down on the sandalwood dining room table, to which I have no attachment. My designer purchased it because it goes with my “design aesthetic.”
“What do you mean, you’re going on a date?” JP asks. “You were just outside, trying to dig yourself out of the mess you’ve made with Dave Toney. You went on a walk, and now you’re going on a date?”
“Yeah,” I say as I slip on my shoes.
“How?” Breaker asks.
“Ran into her on the sidewalk. She was looking for a rich boyfriend. I happen to be rich. Therefore, it works out perfectly.”
“What?” JP asks, his voice disbelieving. “Hold on. You met a girl on the sidewalk, she openly told you she’s looking for a rich boyfriend, and now you’re taking her out?”
I finish tying my shoe, stand, and adjust my slate-grey shorts. “Yup.” They’re about to open their mouths when I pin them with a steely glare. “Do you have any better ideas? Do you have any other women lining up for the job?”
“Is she lining up for the job?” JP asks.
“She’s aware that I need a fake fiancée.”
“I don’t know,” Breaker says. “This seems like a really bad idea. Going out with someone you don’t know.”
I give him a confused look. “Dude, that’s what dating is all about, going out with someone you don’t know.”
“But this is different. She wants a rich boyfriend, you need a fake fiancée, who’s to say she’s not going to take advantage of you? How do you know she won’t agree to whatever you have going on in your head but then do something like go to the media and fuck up our reputation?”
I stuff my phone in my pocket and say, “That’s why we pay our lawyers an extreme amount of money, so they can create contracts to prevent that from happening.” When Breaker still looks uneasy, I say, “Listen, I didn’t give her my last name, and she didn’t seem to recognize me either, so I’m going to feel her out and see if she’s interested. If so, I’ll get Harvey to draw up an NDA, as well as an agreement for both of us to sign.”
“I don’t know,” Breaker says, leaning back in his chair now. “This seems really fucking risky.”
“Then tell me what I should do. Do you have another plan of action?” I ask, arms spread.
“Tell Dave that your fiancée isn’t available this weekend. That she’s away for the next two weeks. So, the dinner date needs to be postponed. Although, I wouldn’t have lied in the first place,” Breaker says.
“Too fucking late for that,” I say in a huff while grabbing my keys. Not to mention, I want this deal done and dusted. Not waiting another fucking two weeks, when I’d probably be no closer to finding a fake fiancée. On my way to the garage, I say, “Be back. Lock up if you leave.”
I hate to admit that they’re right—this is crazy, slightly stupid, and incredibly risky, but I also dug my hole. I might as well lie in it.
Chapter Four
LOTTIE
Lottie: OMG, KELSEY!!!
Kelsey: What? Did Mom and Jeff find out? I swear I haven’t said anything.
Lottie: No, I found a rich man.
Kelsey: Uh . . . what?