Chapter 18 - Naomi
“I’ve got flashcards,” I say when Max opens the door. He looks tired, but his eyes spark and a smile twitches over his lips.
“Flashcards?”
“Yep.” I dig around my huge tote, pulling out the stack of cards that’s held together with a thick elastic band. I run my thumb over the edge, making the cards slap together.
“What are the flashcards for?” Max closes the door behind me and slides onto a bar stool at the kitchen island. I take the one next to him, fishing out a bottle of wine and dropping my bag on the floor.
“They’re for studying. They’ve got facts about me, and stories about my childhood, and things that people who are engaged might know about each other. I brought blank ones for you to write on, too. And we can come up with a back story.”
Max is eyeing me as a smile plays in his eyes. I clear my throat, taking the elastic band off and reading the first card.
“Why did I get suspended from school in third grade?”
His smile widens as his eyebrow arches. He shrugs, sliding off the stool. “I’m not sure,” he says, heading towards the glass cabinet that contains expensive-looking wine glasses. He takes two out, placing them on the marble in front of me.
“Well, I started buying candy in bulk at the grocery store and re-selling it to the kids at recess.”
“That’s very entrepreneurial of you,” he grins as he digs around a drawer. He pulls out a corkscrew, and I laugh. I pick up the bottle, twisting the top open.
“Look at you, with your fancy corkscrew,” I grin. “Twist-off.” I lift the bottle up and pour some in his glass, before hesitating. “Do you want me to let the tannins mellow, or whatever? Am I supposed to let this breathe?”
“I’m sure it’s fine.” He picks up the glass and sniffs it, nodding.
“Well, you’re the one with the fancy-pants corkscrew,” I laugh. “I can’t afford wines that don’t twist off.”
He slides back into the bar stool next to me. The warmth of his body makes my head spin. “So tell me about this candy cartel you had.”
“Funny you should say that,” I answer, filling up my glass. “I got caught because I hired a couple people to distribute. They started talking a bit too much, and a teacher overheard.
“Is your last name Escobar?”
“Might as well be,” I laugh. “I was suspended for three days for that.”
“Doesn’t look like it impacted your future.”
“My mom was so mad,” I laugh. “She’s like, an artsy-fartsy type of person. She’s a painter. She couldn’t believe that I would stoop down to dirty, dirty capitalism.”
“I don’t think your mom would like my parents,” he grins. “They are the epitome of capitalism.” He takes a sip of wine and his eyebrows raise. “That’s not bad, actually.” He looks at his glass with appreciation.
“You know, they had this experiment where they had the top sommeliers in the world taste the most expensive wines and the cheapest ones, and a lot of them couldn’t tell the difference.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah. Don’t ask me any details about it though, because I don’t know them.” I laugh. “So you shouldn’t turn your nose up at my humble twist-off bottle.”
“I’m not turning my nose up at anything,” Max says, leaning against the counter and staring at me. His eyes drop to my lips. A shiver passes down my spine and I clear my throat.
I came here after Max called me and told me his mother had a dinner planned for tomorrow. I was prepared to tell him about my life, to learn about his, and to come up with a believable back story for us. I printed and signed the contract.
I’m here to get paid. I’ll pretend to be his fiancée for a month, maybe two, and I’ll have enough money to pay for my mom’s treatments. It’s supposed to be simple.
But it’s not.
Right here is where he kissed me. Where I kissed him. In his house—this is where I felt my whole body turn to liquid heat as his hands sank into my hips and pulled me into him.
Every time he looks at me, I need to squeeze my thighs together to try to ignore the desire that flames to life inside me.
I clear my throat.
“What about you, you ever been suspended?”
“No,” he replies. “Model student.”
“Of course,” I say, rolling my eyes. “Mr. Goodie-Two-Shoes.”
“I did light a small campfire on the school grounds, but I ran away when a teacher came to investigate. My friend Joel took the blame.”
I drop my jaw in mock horror. “You let your friend take the fall for you?”
“I know, I know. Coward.”
“Awful. I might have to call this wedding off.”
He grins, leaning closer to me. His eyes are glued on mine and I can’t look away. I don’t want to look away. I want to get lost in the blue depths of his gaze and melt against him. I want to smell his hair and feel my skin spark when he touches me.
As if he can read my mind, he puts his hand on my thigh. Even through my jeans, the heat of the contact makes my head spin. The space between my legs turns to fire as my heartbeat races in my chest.
It would be so easy to kiss him—and more. I could just lean over and press my lips against his. I could let my body do the talking, and run my fingers over his chiseled chest. I could reach down between his legs and feel his length against my palm, and do all the things that my body is begging me to do.
Instead, I glance down and take a sip of wine. I grab my bag from the floor and fish out the thick contract. Max straightens, clearing his throat and taking a sip of wine. He drops his hand from my thigh and I miss his touch the instant his hand slips away.
“I signed this.”
“Did you have a lawyer look it over?”
I laugh. “Yes, I called the lawyer I have on retainer. She cleared her schedule to look it over.” I glance at him, eyebrow raised. “You and I live in very different worlds, Mr. Westbrook.” He grins, and I continue. “I read it, and it seems fine. It’s signed, anyways. Here.”
I slide the papers over, and he pushes them to the side. “I’m more interested in the flashcards right now.”
My heart flutters and my lips twitch into a grin. I nod, handing him a stack of blank ones. “Write down some facts about yourself. We need to come up with a good story about how we met.”
“We met at physio.”
“I know, but we need details. How, when, what’s happened since then. That kind of thing. I only met your mom for a few minutes, but she won’t be satisfied with ‘we met at physio’.”
Max chuckles and nods. “That’s probably true.”
“Did you ask them why they want you to get married so badly? You told me you thought it was weird, even for them.”
He looks away from me, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. “No, not yet.” I wait for him to continue, but he doesn’t.
Not wanting to push the issue, I just nod.
“Okay, come on, let’s get to work.” I fish out a pen from my bag and hand it to him. I top off our wine and try to forget about the ache between my legs and the fire in my veins.