Mindy

“Can we get some service over here?” yells a woman who’s seated at one of the tables in the packed coffee house. “You girls are moving slow as molasses!”

I slap the lids down on a couple of cups and place them in a cup holder before taking them over to the counter. I pause for a moment to dab the sweat from my brow with my apron, sighing. My feet ache from running back and forth during the early morning rush and I need a damn break.

Jesus, I tell myself as I force a fraudulent smile on my face. This is the worst morning ever. It’s a blistering hot day in July. The A/C’s shoddy, it’s like 100 degrees outside, and it feels like I’m working in the fiery pits of hell. And to make matters worse, it’s a packed house and I’m running behind. I don’t know how much more of this madness I can take.

“We’ll be right with you, ma’am!” I call out, flashing her an easy smile and a playful wink that hides my irritation. I ring up the order for a man standing at the front of the line and then send him on his way with his two iced coffees. He’s immediately replaced by another man, who spits out his order so fast I almost feel dizzy, barely catching it all. “We’re just running a little behind schedule this morning.”

“Bullshit!” the woman snaps, glowering at the line of people in front of me. She’s a well-kept, middle-aged blonde with an immaculate short hairdo, garbed in fur-trimmed designer clothes that go along with her snobby attitude. “There’s three of you back there, yet I’ve been waiting for over ten minutes for my frap.” She shakes her head, practically frothing at the mouth. “It’s ridiculous!”

A lump of anger forms in my throat. I quickly swallow it back, glancing to the sky. Dear God, give me the strength!

I grit my teeth, my eyes cutting off to the side where the equipment is. I see Cassie, one of my employees, taking her sweet ass time blending something. She’s acting like we don’t have customers piling up out the ass. Throwing her long, brown hair back, she takes in a deep yawn as if she’s tired from working so hard. If she weren’t new, I’d chew her out.

I shake my head.

At least she looks nice enough in our new uniform, a blue skirt that shows a lot of leg, with a white V-necked T-shirt with Beangal’s Den printed over the chest. But looking cute and pretty doesn’t mean shit to me if you’re not getting work done.

Sighing, I look around for Sarah, my other employee, but she’s nowhere to be seen.

Figures, I say to myself. One disappears on me, and the other is moving slower than a snail. Why did I want to be the manager of this place again?

“Ma’am,” I say as politely as I can manage, turning my eyes back on her. I signal to the waiting customer that I’ll be with him in a moment. “I understand your frustration with having to wait, but there’s no need for that language. There are kids in here.” I pause and add, “However, I promise that once you try our world-famous Tiger Caramel Frappuccino, you’ll forget all about the wait. It’s just that good.” I flash her another smile and a wink, hoping to defuse the situation.

“Ha! We’ll see! But if your service weren’t so damn bad, we wouldn’t have a problem,” the woman hotly retorts, ignoring my peace-making attempt and looking as if she’s ready for a fight.

I clench my hands, biting back a sharp response that instantly forms on my lips. Usually, I can handle even the most disgruntled customer with my charm, but this one seems immune to it. And she’s testing my patience.

Taking a deep breath, I draw myself up, then speak in calm, even tones. “Ma'am, if you can’t watch your language, I’m going to have to kindly ask that you leave.”

Steeling myself, I wait for her to challenge me. But surprisingly, she just grumbles, muttering something nasty under her breath as she looks away.

I sigh in relief. I was half-expecting to have to call hotel security to deal with this one.

For the next five minutes, I go back to frantically taking and filling orders. I have to stop three times to tell Cassie to pick up the pace. It does little good. If anything, she moves slower, like she’s silently protesting having to work hard.

Dammit. I just don’t have the time to get on Cassie's ass right now. It wouldn’t be so bad if Sarah weren’t MIA.

It just so happens that as soon as the rush of customers is gone, Sarah reappears from the back.

“Where on earth have you been?” I gasp, setting down a tray I’ve brought over from an empty table on the counter. “We’ve been slammed out here! I’m doing three people’s jobs!”

The twenty-year-old short brunette with dimples normally has a penchant for being overzealous about her job. She shakes her head as her eyes fall on Cassie. “I bet. She was probably up all night screwing Brad’s brains out.” I hold in a groan. Sarah loves to get digs in against Cassie whenever she can. I ignore responding to the bait as Sarah looks back to me. “I’m sorry, Mindy. I was just having a little trouble back there.”

I frown with confusion. “What kind of trouble?”

Sarah tilts her head to the side, biting her lower lip. “Well, uh, my tampon—”

“TMI!” I say, cutting her off and looking around fearfully, hoping no one heard what she just said. “Jesus, Sarah,” I hiss quietly, “what are you trying to do, scare our customers away?”

Sarah blushes, her cheeks turning a rosy red. “Sorry!”

I shake my head, gently grabbing her by the shoulders and guiding her toward the dining area. “Never mind that. I need your help. There’s like five tables that need to be cleaned off and wiped down, and I need a few supplies from the back.”

Sarah nods dutifully, wiping her hands on her apron and making her way over to the messy tables. “On it, Boss!”

I sigh and shake my head as I watch her nearly run into a customer on her way. A pulsing ache runs down my side as I lean against the counter for support. I really don’t know how I’m going to get through the rest of the day. The stress of running this place is getting to me lately. In fact, ever since I became the operating manager of Beangal’s Den, I’ve been overworked and tired. Sure, I’m making more money than I ever have, but I’m beginning to wonder if it’s even worth it.

I work so much now that I have no social life. The vibrant small-town girl who wouldn’t hesitate to give a wild bull a run for his money has been replaced by an old maid. In fact, I can’t even remember the last time I’ve been with a guy and let him do the . . .

A buzz at my side and a Taylor Swift ringtone of We Are Never, Ever Getting Back Together interrupt my thoughts. Grumbling, I pull my cell out of my pocket and glance around the cafe to make sure things aren’t getting back out of hand before I answer it.

“Hello?”

“Mindy, my dear!” my mother’s voice greets me in a singsong tone.

I hold in a groan. I love my mom dearly, but she’s the last one I want to hear from right now. She always gives me a headache with her constant picking. “Mother,” I reply cordially.

“My God, Mindy,” she complains with a sniff, “we haven’t talked in weeks. Can you sound any unhappier to hear from me?”

I knew I shouldn’t have answered.

I try my best to keep my tone even. “Sorry, Mom. I’m just working right now. Can I call you back after my shift?”

“No,” she replies flatly. “This is important.”

I try not to sigh out loud. “Okay, Mom. You have two minutes before—”

A piercing shriek interrupts my words and I jump in surprise. I turn around to see Cassie wiping coffee off her chest at the counter. Luckily, she’d only gotten it on herself and not a customer. I swear, I don’t know what I’m going to do with this chick.

“What the hell was that?” my mom demands on the other end of the line.

I pull away from the counter, shaking my head. Then I walk around, grab a towel from a shelf, and hand it over to Cassie. “Nothing,” I reply. “Just the background noise of the cafe.”

“It sounded like a dying cat.”

Can’t argue with that.

“There was something important you wanted to tell me,” I remind her, getting back on point.

“I’m getting married next week,” my mom announces, dropping the bomb on me without warning.

My jaw drops and my heart skips a beat at her words. While I’ve been expecting this, it still feels like a shock. After the heartbreak of Dad’s sudden death during my senior year of high school, Mom swore on her grandmother’s grave that she’d never marry again . . . until she met John Wentworth, a multi-millionaire businessman.

Unfortunately, I’ve heard more about John’s status than anything else about him. During their courtship, it was almost all she talked about.

John has this, and John has that. John bought me this and John bought me that. And one of my favorites, ‘Do I need to remind you how much John is worth?’ It’s a line she likes to pull out whenever I dare question the dynamics of her relationship. I swear, I think the only reason she’s doing this is because he’s loaded.

Still, despite my misgivings on the authenticity of their relationship, now is not the time to voice my displeasure or doubts. This is her happy moment, and whether I like it or not, I need to be supportive.

“Mom, that’s wonderful!” I say in the most joyful tone I can manage.

“Isn’t it?” Mom says proudly. “It’s going to be absolutely gorgeous. He’s already rented out the venue too. A grand ballroom that sits on the shore with breathtaking views of the ocean.”

“Gee, Mom, that sounds great. I’m so happy for you!”

There’s a short pause and my mother’s voice drops a few octaves. “And I want you to come.”

I pause, glancing around the busy cafe. Cassie’s finally gotten most of the coffee off her shirt, although there is a giant stain on it, and is taking a man’s order. Meanwhile, Sarah’s busting her ass, bringing the sitting patrons their fraps. She’s looking pretty worn-out herself.

“Mom . . . I don’t know,” I say slowly, not wanting to upset her. “This is a little out of the blue. With my work schedule and all, I don’t know if . . .”

I hear her sharp intake of breath. “Are you kidding me right now, Mindy Isabella Price? I’m your mother, the most important person in your life and the one who gave birth to—”

“You’re right!” I say quickly. If I don’t head that off, I’ll be here until next week listening to her tell me how she was in labor with me for thirty-seven hours and that I owe her the universe. “I don’t know what I was thinking. Of course I’ll be there.”

“You need to take at least a week off,” Mom adds.

“A week—” I began to protest. Dear God, with Cassie and Sarah running things? They’ll burn the place down.

“Yes, a week! Everyone’s going to be there. Your sister, your cousin, and your aunt. Your grandmother.”

I open my mouth to argue but then shut it with a snap. It’s a fool’s errand. My mother has a head harder than granite sometimes. Shaking my head, I bite my lower lip, thinking. Damn, she drives a hard bargain.

But the more I think about taking a week off, the more I begin to like the idea. I haven’t seen my little sister, Roxy, in forever. Same for my cousin Layla, Aunt Rita, and Grandma Ivy Jo. It sure would be nice to take a break from this mess to relax and chill with the fam.

“I can do that,” I say finally, feeling more at ease. “It’ll be so good to see you and the family again.”

Heaven help Cassie and Sarah.

“It sure will,” Mom agrees. “Roxy has been asking about you non-stop.”

A grin plays across my lips as I think about my younger sister. At twenty-one, Roxy’s young, dumb, and full of fun. Basically, an even more smartassed and sassier version of myself.

But my Mom’s next words take me out of my reverie and hit me like a lightning bolt. “And I expect you to bring your fiancé.”

“My fiancé?” I ask with a croak when I can finally find my voice.

“Yes! You know, Harold. Tall. Handsome. Rich. Good in bed. The one you’ve been bragging to me about for the past year.” She lets out a little laugh. “Roxy’s been dying to meet him . . . and so have I.”

Shit, shit, shit!

I pause, the phone pressed against my ear, my mind racing in panic.

That lie. I should’ve known it would come back to bite me in the ass. I’m not one for long-term relationships, and I got sick of Mom trying to set me up with some man back at home she wanted me to meet. Knowing her, probably a son of one of John’s friends. I got tired of it, so I told her I was engaged to get her off my back.

Stupid me.

I suck in a deep breath, about to tell her the truth, but I stop. There’s no way I can admit that I was lying for the past year and show up at her wedding without a man. Absolutely no way. By now, everyone in the family has heard about my fiancé, Harold, and mom is going to be overly dramatic if I fess up now. Besides, she’s getting married. She doesn’t need to hear that I lied.

“Mindy?”

“I—” I began to say, not knowing how I’m going to get out of this one. At that exact moment, Brianna Adams, my best friend and ex-partner in crime—and now part-owner of the Beangal’s Den—walks through the door, her adorable little boy, Rafe, balanced expertly on her right hip.

Suddenly, I’m struck by an idea, my face lighting up like a light bulb. “Of course, Harold,” I say cheerfully, regaining my composure. “He’ll be coming. He’s been wanting to meet you for forever!”

I can practically feel my Mom beaming through the phone. “Perfect! I’ll be expecting you both. See you soon, love.”

The line goes dead, and I’m quick to pocket my cell as I wave Brianna over to the counter. She’s halfway there when the disgruntled woman from earlier jumps up from her seat. Apparently, she’s finished with her drink and not satisfied in the least.

“You were wrong,” she says loudly at me, brushing by Brianna to get to me. “It wasn’t worth the wait. I’ve tasted far better, like the Unicorn Frappuccino they serve at the place on the other side of town.” She shakes her head angrily and almost yells, “You guys suck. I’m never coming here again!” Cutting her eyes at me, she spins around and walks off, nearly running into Brianna on her way out.

Brianna’s forehead crinkles into a frown as she reaches the counter. “Having a bad day, I take it?” She asks.

My chest fills with warmth as my eyes fall on my good friend. Dressed in a white and yellow flower dress that has a low V-cut with her long brown hair pulled into a lazy bun, she looks absolutely voluptuous. Shit, had I known pregnancy could do that, I would’ve gotten knocked up years ago.

“Besides the A/C not working and being overrun for over half the morning? Business as usual,” I say dismissively. With my mind on my idea, the dissatisfied customer is already old news. “We were a little behind earlier.”

“I feel sorry for you. Someone’s been called about the A/C,” Brianna says. She pauses and frowns again. “And what the hell’s a Unicorn Frappuccino?”

I roll my eyes. “It’s all the rage right now. What rock have you been hiding under?”

“Have you tried it?” Brianna asks curiously.

I shake my head. “Hell, no! I have a friend who did and she was shitting glitter and rainbows all week.”

“Mindy!” Brianna protests.

I shake my head. “I’m serious! It’s a real drink.”

Brianna looks like she’s about to argue and then thinks better of it, shaking her head. “I’ll take your word for it.”

“Good,” I say, reaching across the counter to tug on Rafe’s small hand. He giggles as I shake it. He’s a spitting image of both his parents, with adorable baby blues and dirty-blonde hair. “How’s my little man doing?”

Brianna smiles, her eyes lighting up as she looks at her baby boy. “Good. He’s talking even more now and can almost form a full sentence.”

“That’s awesome.” I grin at Rafe and soften my tone into a voice as sweet as sugar. “Can you say a sentence for Aunt Mindy? Huh, Rafey?”

“Hungry!” Rafe says, reaching for his mom’s left breast.

“Rafe stop it!” Brianna snaps, grabbing Rafe’s little arm before he can pull her boob out in public, her cheeks turning red. “Sorry,” she mutters. “He does that all the time.”

I shake my head. I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t help myself. “Takes after his Daddy, and I don’t blame him, Jersey Maid. You look like you can feed the village with those milk jugs.”

“Mindy!”

“Girl, I’m serious. What are you, a triple-D now? If I ever run out of creamer, I know just the person to call.”

“I’m gonna leave!” Brianna threatens.

I let out a laugh. “Oh my God, lighten up, will you? It was just a joke.”

Brianna scowls. “Well, you’re not funny.”

“Yeah, I am.” The grin on my face slowly fades as I remember my idea.

“So how’s Gavin?” I ask, clearing my throat. Gavin, Brianna’s husband, is almost just as good a friend as Brianna is to me. A former football star, he’s settled down into small-town life with surprising ease. But I would think it would be hard not to with the beautiful ranch they moved into. “He enjoying fatherhood much?”

Brianna nods, a smile coming to her face. “Very much so. He can’t wait until Rafe is old enough to go fishing with him. He talks about it every day.”

“What about work?” I ask, leaning in with intense interest.

Brianna gazes at me for a moment. “Well, with the money he made during his football career and his investments, he’s not hard up for a job. He’s taking it easy right now. The kids love the football camp he runs, mentoring disadvantaged children, and helping local actors—”

Brianna’s talking, but I’m starting to zone out, my mind drifting to my predicament.

It seems she notices, and Brianna stares at me suspiciously. As my best friend, she always knows when something is up. “Mindy Price, what is going on in that head of yours?”

“Umm . . . I need to ask you something,” I admit.

Brianna arches an eyebrow as I feel sweat begin to form on my brow. “Oh, really? What’s that?”

I stand there silently, not knowing how to form my next words, my heart pounding like a battering ram. Jesus, she’s not going to make this easy.

“Mindy,” she presses. “I’m waiting.”

I’m unable to part my lips. I don’t know how to tell her about the lie that I’m caught up in.

“Mindy!” Bri cracks.

“Mindy!” Rafe echoes, pointing at me.

Just say it!

Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath. And when I open them, I finally ask, “Know any hot guys named Harold?”

Oliver

“Pair of aces,” I announce with a grin, turning my cards over on the wooden table and gathering the pot from the middle of the table in one giant swoop. “Bend over, buddy. Your ass is mine.”

“Fuck, man!” Jason Woods, a twenty-four-year-old friend and fellow businessman yells, slapping his hand down on the table with enough force to cause some of my chips to go flying off, his face an angry red. “That’s the second fucking time you called my bluff,” he complains.

I sit back in my seat and appraise him, hiding a smirk. Jason’s not a good poker player. He’s okay when he’s winning, but whenever he starts losing or is under pressure, I can read him like a book. With his tells, I can easily see if he’s bluffing or if he has a good hand.

“He’s a lucky bastard,” Kevin White, another buddy of mine in his early thirties who’s sitting beside me, agrees. Shaking his head, he rolls back the sleeves of his white dress shirt, his blonde hair glinting against the single light hanging above our heads. Having lost nearly all night, he’s not as pissed as Jason is. But then again, Kevin never gets that pissed about anything. I bet he could lose his life savings and his reaction would be mild.

“Sorry, boys,” I say with a grin and then joke, “I taught Phil Ivey everything he knows.”

Jason lets out a derisive snort. “Dude, you’re so full of shit. Your whole game is about sitting there with that cocky smirk on your face and getting lucky on the river.”

I huff out a short laugh. “Don’t hate. A win’s a win.”

“And a dick’s a dick,” Jason snarls.

“Hey, hey, now,” Gavin Adams says sternly from across the table, shaking his head at Jason. Dressed all in black, he looks like the dark knight with golden hair as he scowls. “Let’s not. We all know Oliver’s good. We’re all grown men here. There’s no reason to get pissed when we lose. This is like the third time you’ve popped off after a loss, and it’s getting old.”

Gavin’s words seemed to calm Jason at once. “You’re right.” He barely looks my way as he adds, “Sorry, Oliver. Tired of losing, that’s all.”

As a former football star and kind of a celebrity, Gavin has more clout with the friends in our circle. No matter how wrong he might be, they almost always agree with whatever he says. It’s a nice perk, but it’s got to get old with everyone being fake around you. I’d rather someone give it to me straight.

I toss Gavin an imperceptible nod of thanks, though I think I could’ve handled the situation just fine myself.

“All good,” I tell Jason. “No offense taken.”

“Yeah, cause you have my money,” Jason mutters under his breath, but I pretend I don’t hear it.

“Glad y’all got that out the way. Now can we fucking play?” Kevin says.

The blood rushes through my veins at his words, Jason’s anger quickly forgotten. Looking at my stash, I rub my palms together in anticipation. “Let’s do it.”

I love playing poker and taking risks. The higher the stakes, the bigger the rush.

Rock climbing, sky diving, martial arts, poker . . . if there’s a real risk involved, I want a taste of it. It hasn’t always been this way, though.

As an executive at Steele Pharmaceuticals, I never wanted for cash. My father was the CEO and owner, and I was his right-hand man. I could have and do anything I wanted. But with that position of power came a fuck ton of stress . . . along with a lot of disagreements. The stress and the arguing got so bad that I eventually sold all of my shares of the company and quit after my seven-year tenure, leaving my Dad to run the company by himself.

My father was furious with me over my move. He thought my leaving at the height of our success was a huge slap in the face. But I couldn’t help myself. If I’d stayed there any longer, we would’ve ended up at each other’s throat and hating each other. I didn’t want it to be that way, so I left.

A year later, I have a net worth of over ten million, living the small-town life. I even own a small home a few blocks down from my mother when I could be living large. It’s been quite an adjustment for someone so used to the city. But it’s nice to be able to help my mom, a poor single woman who chose not to accept a red cent from my wealthy father when they got divorced.

“Well, as long as you gentlemen don’t start pulling out guns and shooting each other,” says old man Joe, the sixty-year-old barber and host for our games, “I’m fine with it.”

I chuckle as my eyes find the man sitting at the head of the table, dressed in dark clothing with a straw hat on. Old Joe has a large belly and a big mop of salt and pepper hair. He has one of those finely groomed beards that hides his face and makes him look like he’s jolly even when he’s pissed. He’s the living punchline of the old joke, if a town has two barbers, go to the one with the bad haircut since he’s the good one and the other one sucks.

“Let me get a smoke first,” Jason says, taking out a cigarette and a lighter in one smooth flourish. He’s about to light it when Gavin shakes his head.

“Not in here,” Gavin says firmly. “If you want to do that shit, go outside.”

“Come on, man,” Jason whines. “Are you serious? We’re playing poker. Smoking goes hand in hand.”

“We have to tell you this shit every time. You’re the only one who smokes here. Take it outside.”

Jason scowls, still fingering the cigarette like it’s his lifeline. “My wife doesn’t care if I smoke.”

“Yeah?” Gavin says, “Well, mine does. And I’m not going back home smelling like second-hand ass funk.”

Jason mutters something under his breath, but he stuffs the lighter and the pack of cigarettes back into his pocket.

“How’s Brianna anyway?” Kevin asks.

A light brightens Gavin’s eyes and a slight smile comes to his lips. “Pretty good. She’s having a blast raising our little man Rafe, but lately, she’s been complaining about the baby weight that won’t come off.”

Kevin chuckles. “Tara does the same thing. But I think it fits her.”

Gavin nods, a boyish smirk curling his lips. “I rather like it myself,” he agrees.

I shift in my seat, feeling slightly uncomfortable. Talk of wives and babies always makes me feel anxious for some reason. I don’t particularly have a desire to settle down with a woman and have children.

Not when my last relationship left me sour with how overly needy and clingy she was. She loved the way I fucked, but she loved the size of my bank account even more. When I found out what she was truly after, I dropped her faster than a hot potato.

Since then, love ‘em and leave 'em has become my motto. Except lately, I haven’t been doing much loving at all. I’m always too busy with my corporate security startup and helping my mom when she needs it.

In fact, it’s high time I get some action. It’s been awhile since I made a girl . . .

“So when are you going to settle down, Oliver?” Jason asks me, tearing me out of my thoughts. “You’re the only guy at the table who’s still single.”

I clear my throat. Why do we always end up talking about this shit? Can’t we just play the damn game without going into our personal lives? “I don’t know. Haven’t met the one yet.”

Kevin shakes his head. “You’re missing out, man. Nothing beats having a family to call your own.”

“I could argue against that,” I say in braggadocious tones, not letting any of my feelings show. “Being free to do whoever you want, whenever you want has its perks.” I wiggle my eyebrows for maximum effect.

“So about that game,” Gavin says, suddenly eager to change the subject, noticing that it’s something I’d rather not discuss. “Let’s play.”

Joe deals me my two cards, and I look—Ace of diamonds and the Ace of spades. I wait while Gavin checks his cards. “I’ll raise five thousand,” Gavin says.

“Five grand? Are you out of your damn mind?” Jason asks, shaking his head. “Man, every time I get a decent deal, you just slam the pot with that shit. Fuck this. I’m sitting this one out.”

“Yeah, me too,” Kevin adds, turning his hand over and tossing it in. “Two-four off suit? I’m not an idiot yet.”

Gavin’s done that before, tried to bully the little bits of the blind by splashing the pot, but I’m not taking it this time. Not with paired aces. “Ten grand.”

Joe drops the flop, and I see magic. Ace of hearts and two sevens. I’ve got a full house—three aces and two sevens. Gavin licks his lips, and I know I have him. I got exactly what I needed. He checks. I knew he was trying to steal the pot.

“You wanna raise the stakes? I raise twenty thousand,” I reply, shoving in the chips. The odds of him beating my full house are slim to none, and I’ll admit, I’d like to get one over on the former football star.

I can’t believe it when Gavin calls my bet. “Call,” Gavin says, his hands shaking slightly. Joe gives Gavin a look but shrugs as Gavin moves in the chips, and then he flips over the turn card.

King of diamonds. Gavin blinks, his eyes tight. “Check,” he says.

Inside, I grin. I’ve got him. Even if he had two kings in his hand, he loses. “One hundred thousand.”

There’s not a sound in the room as everyone looks at Gavin, wondering what the fuck he’s doing. Finally, he takes a deep breath and slides his chips into the middle. “Call.”

Joe drops the river, and I feel a sense of concern. But then I see it’s the ten of clubs. No chance in hell he can beat me, but his next words confuse the hell out of me. “Five hundred grand,” he says.

Gavin gives me a tight smile and slides the money in. Has he lost his fucking mind? “This one’s mine,” he gloats.

“Hardly,” I say with a laugh, pushing in my chips. “Call.” Gavin grins again and turns over his cards. “Four sevens.”

As soon as I see the pair of sevens, the air is ripped from my lungs.

I stare at the cards in disbelief, feeling numb all over. He raised five grand on a pair of fucking sevens and then flopped four-of-a-kind? How lucky can you be? I can’t believe it—he flopped a four of a kind. Around the table, everyone seems to be echoing my shock. Old Joe, Kevin, and Jason are frozen like statues, staring at me with surprise in their eyes.

I clench my jaw, anger rising from the pits of my stomach. It doesn’t matter though. I accepted the bet and I lost.

I get up from my seat, feeling absolutely defeated, ignoring all the eyes on me. “I’ll transfer the funds to your account in the morning,” I say, keeping my tone even, even though I’m fucking pissed with myself. I don’t know what the hell I was thinking.

It fucking sucks losing that much money, but it’s not going to break me, though it’s sure going to hurt.

“I’m done for the night. That’s gonna put me on tilt if I keep playing,” I tell them, turning to leave.

“Wait,” Gavin says, standing up.

I turn, arching an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

Gavin glances around at the other men. “Are we done for the night? Let me talk to Oliver alone.”

Without saying a word, Kevin, Jason, and Joe get up, gather their things, and leave the room, each one casting sympathetic looks my way as they file out.

“What’s this all about?” I ask. “It’s a lot of money, but you know it’s not going to break me.”

Gavin stares at me for several moments before asking, “What if you could keep your money?”

I frown. “What do you mean? I got overconfident and lost fair and square.”

Gavin goes silent, studying my face. Finally, he speaks up. “I have a proposition for you.”

“What—”

“You do a favor for me and we’ll call it even.”

I want to tell Gavin to go fuck himself. I’m a man, and I pay my debts. But a part of me is intrigued now, and I’m dying to see what Gavin has up his sleeve. “What kind of favor?”

Gavin steeples his fingers together, staring at me, appraising me.

“Well?” I ask, the anticipation killing me. “What is it?’

His next words shoot across the table like a speeding bullet. “I need you to pretend to be a friend’s fiancé for a week.”

I let out an incredulous laugh. I was totally not expecting something like that. “What?”

Gavin proceeds to tell me all about his friend, who’s the godmother of his child and best friend of his wife, and how she’s gotten herself into a bind because of a lie.

“Absolutely not,” I say firmly when he’s done, shaking my head. I’m not gonna lie, his offer is tempting. But there’s no way I can accept it. I have too much lined up. Business meetings, lunch dates . . . and there were those repairs to my mom’s attic I’d promised her I’d fix myself instead of paying some stranger to do it. “I’m not disrupting my life and plans to be some chick’s cuckold for a week.”

Gavin leans forward in his seat. “Just think of it this way . . . you get to spend a week with a chick for over half a million dollars.”

“My half a million dollars,” I say dryly.

“Was your half million,” Gavin corrects. “And you can keep it if you just do this one little thing.”

I stare at him long and hard. His words are tempting enough, but it suddenly dawns on me how invested he is in this.

“You set this whole thing up,” I accuse. “You knew I was the only single guy in our circle. You’ve been waiting all night to try to get me in this position.”

Gavin manages to look guilty but doesn’t say anything.

I begin to get up from my seat. “I’m done—”

Gavin reaches into his pocket and tosses a small photograph across the table. As soon as I lay eyes on it, my mouth goes dry. The young woman in the photo is drop-dead gorgeous, with beautiful golden brown hair, gorgeous green eyes that sparkles with mischievousness, and an impish smile to match.

“Yeah, so what? I was getting shit for cards and had to make a move. I didn’t expect to flop those sevens—that was a miracle. Anyway, it’s one week,” Gavin nearly purrs, watching my intense interest in the photo. “And you have your money.”

His words hardly register. I can’t seem to bring myself to take my gaze off the picture. The playfulness in her eyes seems to call to me.

When I finally look away from it, I have only one question on my mind.

“What did you say her name was?”

Mindy

“You owe me,” Brianna says as she hangs a right turn. “Like . . . give me your firstborn owe me.”

I laugh. I can’t help it. We’re driving to her ranch, and it’s an amazing day. The sunroof is down on her convertible, and for the first time in months, I feel like I’m getting back to normal. With the wind rustling our hair, I feel like a woman in my mid-twenties who has a million options in life. Not an overworked coffee shop manager stuck in day-to-day drudgery.

I was a little surprised when Bri came by to pick me up, telling me we’re meeting the new mystery guy. It’s so not her style. She’s always been the conscientious one of us. And despite all my needling, Brianna’s been mum about how he looks. It’s intriguing.

“How on earth did you find someone so fast?” I ask as we leave town and head out toward the ranch. Honestly, I didn’t and still don’t expect much. After all, who the hell would be willing to do this? There’s likely not a man who could live up to all the hype that I’ve made “Harold” out to be.

“I didn’t,” Bri says with a twinkle in her eye. “Gavin did.”

I’m a little surprised. I mean, Gavin’s a friend and all, but damn, that’s the sort of stuff you don’t even expect from your sister. Actually, thinking of Roxy, she would hook me up with a guy . . . and I’d regret it.

As long as he can remember what I tell him, it’ll be fine, I try to tell myself.

“Do I even wanna know how Gavin got Mr. Mystery Man to agree?” I ask, slightly curious. I remind myself to never underestimate Gavin Adams.

Bri smiles. “I’m not even sure myself. All he said was the guy owed him a favor. I didn’t ask any questions.”

“What do you know about him?” I ask, unable to contain my curiosity.

“I really don’t know anything, Mindy. I’m as in the dark as you are. I jumped on it because, well, you got anyone else lined up?”

I stick my tongue out at her. “Bitch, you don’t even know if he’s hot?!” I can’t help myself. I feel like a little school girl and it’s so unlike me.

Brianna shakes her head. “I have no idea. But he made it seem like your problem was solved. Maybe it’s an old football buddy . . . you could be shacking up with a stud for a week.”

“Great, just what I need. A dumb jock who thinks he’s—sorry, I know Gavin’s not like that.”

Ugh. I feel like I’m going on a blind date and I’m getting all antsy. I hate this.

Brianna waves me off. “I trust Gavin to not do you wrong. Just relax. We’re almost there.”

I’m not so trusting. We’re always joking with each other, but I hold my tongue. I mean, I did have a role in hooking him and Brianna up. I hope he remembers that.

We get to the ranch, and when I step out of the car, Gavin greets us outside, a smile on his face. Bri scoops up Rafe from next to him, tickling him and making her son giggle while Gavin and I exchange hugs. “I can’t thank you enough for what you’ve done for me,” I tell him. “Miracle worker.”

Gavin shrugs, smiling a secret smile that tells me he’s got something up his non-existent sleeves. He’s at home, and he’s got no problem showing off the body that made him into a football star. If anything, he’s even more ripped, if possible. “It’s no big deal.”

“So how do you know him?” I say suspiciously, getting right to the point. “Bri’s keeping me in the dark.”

“We’re good friends.”

I gawk at Gavin, alarm bells going off. Friends, sure. But this . . . “Good friends? You just asked him to be some stranger’s fake fiancé and he said yes?”

Gavin smirks, that maddening twist of the lips that I know makes Bri both weak in the knees and ready to choke him. Right now, I’m ready to choke him. “We have an arrangement. That's all that really matters.”

I scowl. He’s really getting a kick out of this. “Well, where is he?”

Gavin steps to the side with a sweep of his arm, giving me a mocking half-bow. “He’s waiting for you in the living room.”

“Okay.” Suddenly, I’m nervous. I was anxious on the way over, but now I’m nervous, and that’s something I never feel. I mean, not about meeting guys. Guys have been easy to me ever since I realized that the combination of my smile and my boobs usually shorts out their big brains and turns on their little brains. Problem is, I always attract the wrong ones.

I start walking toward the front door and then stop, turning around when I don’t hear anyone else moving. Instead, I see them staring back at me, Gavin still with that cocky grin on his face.

“Well, you coming?” I ask, annoyed. I get it—Gavin’s pulling a bit of a joke, but this is taking it too far.

They both shake their heads. “I thought it best that you two meet and get to know each other,” Gavin says. “We’re gonna go for a walk.”

“What?” I ask, shocked. “Brianna Adams, you’re not gonna do this to me!”

Brianna shrugs, chuckling from something Gavin whispers in her ear before turning a saucy grin on me. “Mindy Isabella Price, don’t tell me you’re scared of meeting a man?”

I snap my lips shut. She has a point. I’m never scared of anything, especially not men. I stick my nose up in the air, turning on my heel with a harrumph.

“Fine. I don't need you. Bye, Felicia.”

Brianna laughs as I spin around and march down the hall. Despite my show of bravery, I can barely stop my heart from hammering away in my chest. By the time I reach the archway, I’m covered in a sheen of sweat. I pause at the doorway, gathering myself.

Get ahold of yourself, Mindy.

Taking a deep breath, I start to relax. I’m in control. I’ve got this.

I walk through the doorway into the living room. “Hello?”

My breath stills in my lungs and my heart stops as the man in one of the chairs sets down the book he’s been reading and looks up.

There, sitting in a leather club chair, is God. Well, he’s not God, but maybe the dark, sensual reflection of Him . . . maybe the Devil? His coal black hair is accented by rich brown eyes that gleam with intelligence and a dark dangerousness that both chills and thrills me at the same time. He’s wearing a white shirt with bulging biceps straining against the fabric, and I can see the swell of his chest muscles under his tanned skin through the deep V at his chest. I swear it looks like he’s got a grapefruit stuffed in his pants as he sits there, his legs slightly apart like he owns the place, an amused smirk on his sensual lips.

Say something, you idiot!

I know I should speak, but it’s like a cat’s got my tongue. He’s put me in a trance and he hasn’t even said anything yet.

“Were you expecting someone else?” he asks with a slight chuckle, and I note the confidence in his eyes. The cocky curl of his lip. He thinks he’s all that and the bonus prize, doesn’t he?

I don’t fucking think so.

I stand up straight and walk over. His eyes follow me, and my skin pricks, my normal confidence evaporating as I get another look at him. Holy fuck, he’s hot. I sit down across from him, crossing my legs, showing him what I think is my best asset.

I gesture between us, trying to appear more confident than I feel. “I want to start by saying that I appreciate your doing this for me—”

“Gavin,” he says, interrupting me. His voice is deep, rich, and soothing. It reminds me of the taste of smooth, delicious white chocolate. “I’m doing it for Gavin.”

A flush comes over my cheeks. “Well then . . . doing it for Gavin,” I say, still a little tongue-tied. “Sorry, this is all catching me a little off balance. Uhm, what’s your name?”

The man chuckles, and his dark eyes gleam as he looks me over. “Oliver. And trust me, I was just as shocked when Gavin told me about it.”

I feel like squirming. He’s got me heating up, and all I know is his first name! “So, why are you doing this for Gavin?”

His eyes never leave my face as he replies, “I owe him.”

I want to ask him to elaborate, but I can tell in his posture that it’s something he doesn't want to talk about.

“Talkative, are we? Well, can you at least tell me something about yourself?” I ask. “Have you been married? Got any kids?”

He chuckles. “Never married, and last girlfriend was over a year ago.” He scratches his chin, and for some reason, it makes him even hotter that he’s not totally perfect. I can’t help it. I’m relieved he hasn’t been married. “I recently quit my job, actually,” he adds.

“Why?” I ask. Here it comes, the big let-down. He spends his days playing video games and wants to be a YouTube ‘star’.

He pauses for a moment, choosing his words carefully. “I had a disagreement with my boss and decided it was time to go on my own way. So I moved here. Mom has a bad leg and needed help around the house. I wanted to help her and maybe start up something here in town.”

I nod softly. Better than I hoped. “That’s admirable.”

“I hear you work up at that coffee shop in the Grand Waterway,” Oliver replies. “Enjoy it?”

I roll my eyes. “Most of the time. I’ve been hoping to open my own one day. There’s a ton that we have to do to fit with hotel policies that I don’t like. I’ve been saving and saving, and I mean, working with Gavin and Bri is great and all, but . . .”

“Running a business is harder than you think. If you think you work a lot now, wait until you have your own,” Oliver says.

I stop, surprised. “Yeah, but it will be mine so—”

“You’ll work harder?” he interrupts. “Yeah, at first you will, but then it’ll become the same old, same old and you’ll want to slop the work off on some other poor bastard.”

“That’s not my style,” I say.

He shrugs, uncaring. “That’s what they all say.”

“Well, they’re wrong,” I say more sharply than I intended, and I realize it. “Sorry. But I don’t shirk shit off onto my workers.”

Oliver waves it off. “Don’t be. At least you’re being real. I imagine you won’t be as soon as we see your family.”

His little jab stings. But I feel like I have to do this next bit. “My mother, she’s uh . . . she’s marrying someone who has money. She’s become a little snobby.”

Oliver groans, rubbing at his temples as he gives me raised eyebrows. “One of those?”

“Yeah. One of those.” I pause, digging in my purse to bring out a picture. “I brought a picture book with names attached. This might be a little easier if you can recognize a few of them.”

I toss it over to him, and he opens it and begins flipping through pages. “Aunt Rita,” he mutters.

“You’ll love her. She’s a firecracker with a sharp mouth.”

Oliver keeps going, pausing a few pages later. “Roxy? Cute name. She looks like you.”

“That’s my sister. She calls herself a younger, better version of me. But that’s a lie.” I swing my hair around, lifting my nose to the ceiling. “You can’t top perfection.”

He chuckles and flips through a few more pages then sets the book aside. “I can handle it. I’ll give it a look over later.”

“Also,” I say, digging in my purse and pulling out a piece of paper, “I’ve prepared a list of rules, some dos and don'ts. Just so we’re on the same page here.”

I feel stupid. When I made it this morning, I didn't know I’d be walking right into a man who’s literally sex on a stick, but he just flashes me a little grin. “Hit me.”

I try not to tremble as I recite them. “First, when we’re not in the presence of my family, you’re not allowed to touch me. And if there comes a time where we display affection for show, only I initiate it. Also, in front of my family, you’ll never lay a hand anywhere on my body that can be deemed inappropriate. Last, you’ll always be respectful and laugh at my jokes.”

My heart is pounding as I lower the paper. “I’ll give you a paper with more, but that’s all I could think of for now.”

He chuckles, amused. “That’s cute. But I’m going to let you know now, Princess, that I’ve never followed rules well.”

I grip my throat as anger flares up. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He smiles. “We’re supposed to be engaged, aren't we?”

“Yes, but—” I start, but Oliver cuts me off, his eyes quieting me in an instant.

“Okay then. Then let’s be real. If I want to kiss you in front of your family, I will. If I want to grab your ass to show them what’s mine, I will.” His eyes bore into me with an intensity that seems to say, and if I want to fuck you, I will. So get your pretty little head used to that idea, Princess.

Oh, my God. What have I gotten myself into?

“I’m willing to pull off this little act for Gavin,” he continues, “but I’m not going to act like some cuckold to make you look better.”

I draw myself up, ready to unleash fury on him. Let him know that he can go fuck himself and I’ll just fess up to my lie, but I’m interrupted by a sound in the doorway. It’s Brianna in the doorway with Gavin, Rafe balanced on her hip. “Everything going okay in here? Have you two decided where you’re staying on your honeymoon yet?”

Looking at the grinning Brianna and the adorable baby in her arm, I feel my defenses falling. Fessing up makes my stomach crawl, and I don’t have much choice now. I can't find someone else and he knows it.

But looking at the smirk on Oliver’s face, something tells me this might actually be fun.

“Yeah,” I finally say to Brianna. I turn my eyes back to Oliver, giving him a challenging grin of my own. “Hell, I might enjoy doing some ball busting over the next few days.”

Oliver gives me a smirk. One that says like hell, you will.

Oliver

I trail my finger over the photograph of Mindy, sitting back in my office chair and shaking my head. I shouldn’t be doing this. I’ve got a lot to get done before I leave. Getting a company off the ground takes a lot of work, even with a large bank account. But instead of getting work done, I’m staring at this photo.

She’s so fucking beautiful. I thought I knew what to expect, but meeting her in person was intense. As soon as I laid eyes on her, any regrets went out the window. I played it cool, though, not letting her know the effect she had on me.

My fingers trace over the lips of her picture. I can’t wait to taste them. The way she tried to get all high and mighty with me makes me eager to show her who’s the boss. If she thinks I’m about to follow all of her silly little rules, she’s got another thing coming. I’m gonna take what I want, and judging from the look she had in her eyes, she’s gonna love every minute of it.

My dick hardens in my pants and suddenly, I have to adjust my collar and loosen my tie. Fuck, I think to myself. I haven’t gotten this worked up in a long time. Get a hold of yourself, Oliver.

But the only thing I want to take hold of is her ass. Grip those bubbly, luscious cheeks in my hands and pull her in close, taking her body and ravaging it for everything that it's worth. My cock throbs harder in my pants, dying to be let out even if I am in my office. I hold in a groan. I refuse to let her have this power over me.

But no matter how hard I try, I can’t get her out of my head. Even worse, I’m actually looking forward to the trip. I need this. I’m gonna have her eating out of my hand in no time. Oh, the things I’m going to do to her. I bite my lower lip at the thought.

My cock throbs again, but I ignore it. I tuck the picture of Mindy underneath my briefcase and push the thoughts of her out of my mind.

I open my email on my laptop, trying to focus on the things I need to take care of. It's afternoon and I'm stuck in my office in the middle of town, trying to get my affairs in order before my trip. We’re leaving in two days, and whether I need it or not, part of me wonders if I’m walking into a fucking trap. Mindy’s mom must be a piece of work for her to have to lie.

There’s a knock on my door, pulling my attention away. Martha, my part-time secretary, sticks her head in. “Mr. Steele? Your ride is ready.”

“Thanks, Martha,” I say. “You sure you can hold down the fort?”

Martha looks around our small, two-room office and chuckles. “I’m pretty sure,” she says. “But sir, hiring a car?”

“He’s family, and besides, it’s a tax write-off,” I joke. Martha is great for me. She’s a natural penny pincher, and it helps balance my splurging tendencies. I know she’s saved me a lot of money as we get Steele Security Solutions off the ground. “When we get back, I’ll introduce you to him. Your daughter might like him.”

Martha, whose daughter is nineteen and just starting college, laughs. “If he’s anything like you, Mr. Steele, I’ll have my shotgun ready.”

I laugh. “You’ve got me all wrong. Okay, I’ll be back.”

Outside, the black Lincoln SUV with a driver waits, and I climb in. The driver and I say nothing as we head over to the university. I spend the whole time working on my tablet, relishing the peace and quiet. When we pull up outside one of the dorms, my brother Anthony sticks his head out of a third-floor window, a wiseass grin on his face.

“Don’t you just look important as fuck?” he yells loud enough for the whole campus to hear.

I growl, already fed up with his antics. I know he's younger, twenty-one years old and still in college, but he goes out of his way to be a smartass and piss me off. When our parents divorced, he badly wanted to go live with my father, but my father wanted me to go with him instead. So Anthony went with Mom, and it was timing I guess that brought me home just as he started looking for his own freedom. He’s going to college in town but staying in the dorm, and he needed to not have Mom to worry about.

“Get your ass down here, would you?” I yell back, knowing I look like an asshole standing outside a college dorm building in a suit and tie and yelling up at one of the students, but I can’t help it. They’ve got locks on the doors.

“Two minutes!” Anthony says, and for once, he’s actually on time, though I sort of wish he’d put on something besides a sleeveless T-shirt and jeans. He approaches the SUV, laughing at the magnetic removable logo on the side.

“Steele Security Solutions? Sounds like something out of a damn comic book. You got a super suit in the back?”

“Just get in,” I grumble, making Tony laugh as he gets under my skin. I swear, every little brother in the world is born with the sole mission of pissing off their elder sibling.

“What, you missing the secretary and the morning blowjob?” he needles me, as always. “You’re usually more patient.”

“I’ve got shit to do, that’s all. I’m going to be out of town for a week,” I reply as the driver pulls away. “I’ve arranged for Martha to be looking in on Mom.”

“Martha? She’s nearly as old as Mom,” Anthony bitches. “Can’t you at least get some naughty little home helper instead? I’ve got vacation next week, asshole.”

I check the urge to give him the beating my parents never did. He’s a cocky little shit. “I’d have just asked you, but I know you’re going to be spending your whole vacation chasing tail.”

“Damn, Oli, that’s harsh even for you,” Anthony says. “So what’s the deal? I can help if you need it. I mean, it’s Mom.”

I think for a second, calming down. “Okay then. Listen, I need you to take care of some things while I’m gone.”

“Where are you going to—” Anthony starts, but I cut him off. My brother is all questions when he wants to be.

“That doesn't matter,” I say flatly. “I need you to man up and take care of some stuff this week. Martha can take care of the office, but I need you on backup. And I need you to help out with Mom.”

“When are you leaving?” Anthony asks, growing more serious. He’s got some potential at least.

“In a few days,” I say, not offering more.

Anthony shakes his head. “I can’t. Dad wants me to check on a property for him down in Georgia. I’m flying out Tuesday.”

“Fuck him,” I say, sharper than I intend. “And fuck his grooming.”

Anthony recoils slightly and goes silent for a moment. “Are you going to tell me what happened between you two? It’s been months now, and neither of you will say what went down.”

I clench my teeth, looking out the window. I still get hot under the collar thinking about the disagreements we had. “Another time.” I make sure I say it with enough conviction so he won’t press the issue.

Anthony’s silent for a few moments before he replies, his voice quiet and intense. “You’re an asshole, Oliver. And Dad’s gonna be pissed when he can’t count on me.”

“That’s too bad. He doesn’t need you. Mom does.”

“He wants me to take your place, you know. At the company,” Anthony says. “Says he needs a right hand he can trust.”

Anger surges through my chest. He gave me the same line of shit back when I was twenty-one and he was recruiting me. But Anthony doesn’t understand. “That will be the biggest mistake you ever make.”

“Seems like you’re the one making a big mistake,” Anthony replies hotly. “Look at you, giving up your stake in our father’s company and moving here. And for what? Tell me one thing that’s here for you.”

“Mom,” I say. Truth be told, the list ends there, but it’s enough.

Anthony goes silent, guilt showing on his face. I know why. He wanted desperately to go with Dad like I did, to live the good life. But that would’ve left our mother all alone.

“You’re right,” he says quietly. “There’s Mom.”

I nod. “And I need you to spend time with her while I’m gone. In fact, I want you to stay at her house rather than the dorm. Martha shouldn’t be the one taking care of her.”

Anthony looks pained at that comment. “Damn, man. Travis said he was going to hook me up with this hot chick this weekend—”

The stony look on my face shuts him up. “I'm going to need you to stop making excuses. Take some fucking responsibility for once.”

Before Anthony can start, I cut him off. “I was supposed to help her with fixing the lights in the basement. She twisted her ankle doing laundry and needs a few things done around the house.”

Anthony swallows. “I didn’t know.”

“You don’t call. You never check on her.” I could go off on him about how he lives in the same town and neglects his mother. I checked in with Mom more when I was in college, and I was several states away. He lives in the same town.

“I’ve just been busy with classes. School work. This shit’s harder for me than it was for you.”

I turn away, looking out the window and ending the conversation. I don’t need to hear his excuses. I've always known that actions speak louder than words, and Anthony's actions have amounted to diddly squat when it comes to his relationship with our mother. Finally, as we pull up in front of Mom’s house, I turn back to him, my voice quiet.

“There’s more to life than just having a corner office, fucking chicks, and partying. Time to be a man, Anthony.”

* * *

“Oh, my word, my two boys,” my mom, Jamie Steele, says as we step into the living room of her house. She tries to get up from her seat, an old raggedy recliner, but I quickly motion her back down, noticing her bandaged ankle.

“Sit down, Mom,” I tell her, closing the door. “No pressure on the ankle, remember?”

I don't give her a chance to respond. I quickly make my way across the room, bend down, and pull her into my arms. It's been a few days since I last saw her, but she looks disheveled, her hair in disarray. She has fine frown lines going down the front on her lips brought on by cigarette smoke. Another thing Gavin and I agree on—I hate cigarettes, but I can’t stop her. It makes her look a lot older than she really is.

Her eyes light up when I step away, and she looks at Anthony. “And Anthony too? What have I done to deserve this?”

“Oh, stop it,” Anthony says sheepishly, coming forward to give her a hug.

“I can't help it,” she says as she pulls away. “You never come to see me. The last time I had you both under this roof is when Oliver came home from . . .”

Her voice trails off and a distant look comes over her eyes. I know what she's thinking about. How I left her to be my father's pet child. I thought she'd be okay with Anthony, but he resented the fact that I was gone and took it out on her like any kid would, with lots of stress and backtalk. It was only the fact that he was a kid when he did it that saved him from an ass beating.

She didn't tell me how bad it was until I came back home. I was furious when I found out what was really going on. At the same time, I felt guilty. I felt like maybe I shouldn't have left. And to know that she didn't take one red cent from my father makes it worse. She lives off the meager income she gets from her job as an office manager for a trucking company. I try to give her money to help, but she's too prideful to take any. I barely convinced her to take time off work with her ankle.

“You know I'm sorry,” Anthony says, and I think Mom’s words hit him harder than mine did. “I'm going to try to do better. Oliver told me that you hurt your ankle.”

“Yeah, I was trying to get the fabric softener refill in the basement when I fell,” Mom says. “My own fault. You know, Anthony, if you’d be more dependable . . .”

I think Anthony’s had enough. I went in on him the way over here, so I interrupt Mom before she can really get going. “Mom, Anthony’s going to be saying with you for the week. I asked him to help out at my office, and then he said he wanted to spend some quality time with you.”

Anthony gives me a grateful look as Mom turns to him, her face brightening in disbelief. “Tony? Is that true?”

He nods his head. “Yes. I’ll help out with any work you need around the house. Help out with groceries, take care of the basement, all that.”

“You’ll see, Mom,” I say. “Tony’s going to be a great help while I’m gone.”

My mom turns to me. “Gone? Gone where?”

I grit my teeth. I can lie to Anthony, but I can't lie to Mom. “Just going away for a week to a wedding.”

My mom’s eyebrows raise. “A wedding? Whose wedding?”

“A friend’s. I'm going as someone's date.” It's not a total lie but one I can get away with. I can hear Anthony grind his teeth, and I know I’ve got some explaining to do with him later. Not now.

“It must be someone important if you have to leave town for a week,” Mom fishes a bit too eagerly. “It sure would be nice to have some grandbabies.”

I almost blanch. She snuck that one in there with a quickness I wasn’t prepared for. Babies are the furthest thing from my mind right now.

“It’s totally not like that,” I say, my tone firm, letting her know the discussion is closed. “I’m doing it as a favor.”

My mom looks around suddenly, very excited. “Well, since I have you both here, why don’t I make your favorite, cherry pie? Hmm? If nothing else, we can spend some family time together before you leave with some good home-style cooking.”

My mom grins, and I’m so glad I forced Anthony to come. She’s the happiest I’ve seen her in a long time. “Sure, Mom, as long as you stay off your ankle.”

“Well, you know back in my day, there was a song about cherry pie. Mine’s sweet enough to make a grown man cry,” Mom boasts with a laugh.

Anthony groans, slapping his forehead. “Really, Mom? That’s not what that song’s about. Please stop . . .”

I open my mouth to comment, but right then, Mindy pops in my mind. Her long legs, her sweet lips. And I have to think that maybe that band had a point.

There’s a sweet cherry pie, and I plan on tasting it.

Mindy

“How did it go?” Brianna asks me. “When I walked in on you guys, it looked like you’d seen a ghost.”

We’re in my bedroom and I'm getting the clothes ready that I'm going to wear for my trip. I packed a lot of nice dresses, and now I’ve got a problem. I might have packed some nice things, but I’ve got to do some shopping to get a few more outfits that would be more in line with what my mom would expect.

Peering at myself in the mirror, I spin around and place my hands on my hips, fixing Brianna with a scowl. “I don't appreciate your sending me in there unarmed. He was an asshole.”

Brianna lets out a laugh. “Unarmed? What did you want to go in there with? A shotgun? I’ve never known a man you couldn’t wrap around your finger in about two minutes flat,” she says with a snap of her fingers.

I shrug. “I dunno. A big fat dildo, maybe? So I could’ve shoved it up his cocky ass.”

“Mindy!” Brianna protests. “What did I tell you about these words around Rafe? You can't be saying those things! He’s started repeating every new word that he hears!”

“Sorry, Rafey,” I say to the little boy who's sitting atop a mountain of my discarded clothes, playing with one of my sports bras.

I get lucky, as he seems to have ignored my foul mouth and instead pulls one of my sports bras on top of his head. “Look, Mommy! I’m a Duacone!”

“A what?” I ask, giving Bri a glance.

“Cartoon,” Brianna says with a chuckle before looking back at me. “Still . . . why so mad?”

“Are you kidding? I was sweating bullets before I even walked in there!” I say, my face flushing. “He wasn’t what I expected, and I’m just frustrated that he was able to get the upper hand on me.”

“And I . . .” I clench my fists, my breath tight in my throat. “He got to me, okay?”

Brianna’s jaw drops. “I can't believe I’m hearing this. Aren’t you supposed to be Miss Fearless? The woman who takes life by the balls?”

“Balls,” echoes Rafey. “I like balls!”

I mock-scold Brianna, sticking out my tongue. “Wanna tell me where your son gets his bad language again?”

Brianna scowls at me. “I’m so going to kill you.”

I spread my arms defensively as Brianna glares murder at me. “I just wish you would’ve told me.”

“Told you what?” Brianna asks, trying hard to be mad but looking like she wants to burst into laughter.

I gesture sharply, leaning in to whisper so Rafe can’t hear. “That he was hot as fuck!”

Bri looks at me out of the side of her eyes before she shakes her head. “How was I supposed to know? I’d never met him.”

“I don't believe you,” I say. “You did that on purpose.”

Brianna looks genuinely hurt. “I swear to you, I didn't. I never saw him before I walked into the room with Gavin. It was his idea.”

I look into my best friend’s eyes to see she’s telling the truth, and I sigh, shaking my head but not smiling yet. “Never mind that. I seriously don't know how I’m going to live a week with that guy without killing him.”

Brianna glances at Rafe, who’s now quite happily turning my Under Armour sports bras into hand puppets, and leads me into my connecting bathroom. “Was he that bad?”

“You’re damn right!” I growl, letting go for the first time. “You wanna know what he told me?”

“What?”

My hand goes to my throat, remembering his deep voice and the way that it both pissed me off and turned me on. “Basically, that he would do anything to me that he wants since we’re supposed to be engaged.”

Brianna gapes. “He did not!”

I nod, my skin flushed. It pisses me off that I’m getting hot thinking about it.

Brianna thinks for a minute, then chuckles. “Well shit, you said he’s hot, right? That should be right up your alley.”

I glower at her. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Brianna shrugs, leaning against the bathroom wall and grinning. “I recall a certain person urging me to sleep with Gavin when I barely knew him.”

“But this is different,” I protest. “Gavin was sweet. He wanted to court you, treat you like a princess. This guy . . .” I shake my head as the curl of his cocky lips appears in my mind. Oh, what those lips could do to my . . .

I shove the treasonous thoughts away, my chest heaving. “He’s different. Let’s just leave it at that.”

“You all right?” Brianna teases, raising an eyebrow. “Feeling a little hot in here? Need a cold shower or two?”

I wave her off. “I’ll be fine.”

“Mmmhmm,” Brianna replies. “So, should I close the door behind me so you can break out your purple friend?”

I scowl. “Please. He might be hot, but he’s not that hot.”

I smile, and we both start laughing at how bad my lie was. “I might need to take it with me though,” I admit. “We’re going to have to fake all this affection. From what he says, he’s not exactly worried about keeping his hands to himself, but with how he was talking to me, I’m not about to sleep with him.”

Right then, I see Rafey pull out a red number from the pile of clothes, a dress I bought years ago but have never worn. Even for me, it’s pretty sexy and flirty.

“Oh, Rafey, I can just kiss you,” I say, rushing over and grabbing it from him, but he hangs on like a toddler will. He giggles as I tickle him and deliver kisses to his head, letting go of the dress and letting me snatch it up without any more trouble.

I rush back to the bathroom and pull it on. It doesn’t go with the undies I’m wearing today and I’m not wearing heels, but it gives me an idea. I come back out, spreading my arms and twirling a few times for Brianna. “How do I look?”

Brianna’s eyes go wide. “I think you know how you look.”

“Good,” I say with a naughty grin, the plan cooking up in my head on the fly, “because I’m going to wear this tomorrow to meet Oliver.”

Brianna looks at me like she’s about ready to call the psych ward. “Seriously? You just said you weren’t going to sleep with him, but then you’re gonna wear something like that? Don’t make me say what that dress is screaming. Not with Rafe around.”

I make a face, wiggling my butt in Bri’s direction as I check myself in the mirror. I know the heels I need to wear with this. They’d make me . . . oh, yeah. “I’m not gonna sleep with him. But two can play his game.”

“Right,” Brianna says. She grins as she gets the point of my plan. “You’re going to grab the bull by his horn.”

“More or less,” I say as I place my hands on my hips, admiring the dress that hugs my curves like Saran Wrap. Oh, I most certainly fucking will.

Oliver

“Remember,” I tell Tony as we pull up to the curb of the airport. I hired a driver again, both for convenience and to make sure Tony and I can talk. “Don’t pull any bullshit while I’m gone or you’re going to find your ass and your head meeting.”

“Relax. I got it,” Tony says, annoyed. “You’ve only said it a hundred times before.”

“Good. Take care of Mom. We’re all she’s got,” I remind him, more gently this time. “She needs us.”

“Damn, Oli, you’re just leaving for a week. Not a lifetime,” Tony says with a grimace.

We pull up in front of the airport, and I offer Tony my hand as we come to a stop. “Take care. I’ll be in touch.”

Tony shakes, and I’m encouraged. He’s got a man’s grip. I get out of the car and grab my bags out of the back. With a wave, I slap the hood and watch the car take off.

I stop and look around. I got a text from Gavin this morning telling me that Mindy would be here before I was. But she’s nowhere in sight.

I wait five minutes, and I’m about to pull out my phone when Brianna rolls up with Mindy, the sunroof down on her convertible. She gets out of the car and I have to fight to keep my expression neutral. She’s wearing dark shades and a tight body-hugging red dress. She might as well be wearing nothing at all.

Blood pumps furiously to my cock as it instantly hardens. Good thing I’m wearing a sport coat.

“Hey, Oliver,” Brianna greets chirpily as she gets out of the car. Mindy pretends she doesn’t notice me, walking around to the side and bending over to get her bags out of the back, giving me an unrivaled view of her ass. I’m pretty sure she’s doing it on purpose.

I swallow hard as fire runs through me. I see her toss a little glance behind her and then quickly look away as she slowly pulls her bag. I knew it—she’s doing this shit on purpose.

Okay, Princess, you wanna play? Challenge accepted.

“Hello, Brianna,” I say politely, trying to keep the strain out of my voice. “You’re looking as beautiful as ever. Gavin’s a lucky man.”

She walks over, gesturing at me with a smile. “Looking good yourself, Mr. Fiancé. What is that, Gucci?”

I chuckle. “Thanks. I figured I’d play the part. Mindy’s supposed to have this stud of a date, so I dressed down a little.”

Brianna chuckles, then leans in to whisper to me. “Thank you for doing this.”

I shake my head. I still don’t get why this charade is needed, but whatever. “It’s no problem. I think it’ll be fun,” I say, trying to restrain a grin from spreading across my face.

Brianna gives me a measured look, and I wonder how much her husband has told her about me.

“I think that’s it,” Mindy says, pulling our attention to her. She has a small hoard of luggage. She’s packed for a month, not a damn week. “So where’s the redcap?”

Brianna winks at me and stands on her tiptoes to pat me on my shoulder. “Take care of her for me, okay? She can be a handful.”

I give her a polite nod. Regardless of the dirty things that dress makes me want to do to Mindy and her body right now, I can tell Brianna cares about her a lot. “I’ll do my best.”

There’s a twinkle of mischievousness in Brianna’s eyes when she turns away, and something tells me that she’s laughing at an inner joke. Something tells me Mindy’s got something up her sleeve.

“Bye, trick,” Brianna says to Mindy, giving her a hug. “I’ll miss you, even if it’s only for a week.”

“Bye, hussy,” Mindy says, delivering a quick peck on her cheek. “Please control your language around my little Rafealicious while I’m gone. It’s really getting out of control. I’d like to know someone’s raising him right.”

Brianna turns to me, a mock scowl on her face. “You know what? I take that back. Have your way with her.”

Mindy gawks, then laughs defensively. She wasn’t expecting that one. “Oh, come on, you know I love you!”

“Nope, not listening,” Brianna says, sticking her fingers in her ears as she walks around and jumps into the driver seat. “I hope you get hogtied and covered in honey!”

Oh, the ideas that brings to my mind. Mindy blushes too but waves it off with a laugh. “Whatever!”

“That’s right!” Brianna says cheerfully. She starts up her car and gives us both a playful wave. “Bye, Felicia!”

She drives off, leaving Mindy looking almost shocked. “I’m so gonna kill you when I get back!” Mindy yells at the fleeing car, flipping the bird.

I chuckle at their antics. I don’t know if they’ve always been this way. Gavin says that his wife used to be pretty shy, but she could have fooled me.

When Brianna is gone, I walk over to Mindy. I look her up and down, letting my eyes tell her just how much I like it. “Dressed for the weather?”

She looks down at the dress before giving me a saucy grin and putting on a terrible Scarlett O’Hara fake accent, teasing me again. “This little ole thing? I just threw it on.”

Painted it on is more like it, I think, checking her out again. “It looks good on you,” I admit, but not offering too much. I’m not going to let her think she has power over me and think I’m going to obey her little rules.

A blush comes over her face and she looks away. “Thanks.” She turns back around a moment later. “Can you get my bags?”

“Just a second,” I tell her, holding in my grin. I pull out a black velvet box from my pocket, raising an eyebrow. “You’re missing something.”

“What is that—” she begins to ask. Her breath catches in her throat as I open it to reveal a platinum engagement ring with two stones, emerald and diamond to match our birth months. Gavin was helpful. “Oh, my . . .”

I lean in close, pressing my body into hers, letting her feel my cock pressing into her side and whispering in her ear. She’s trembling already, and I feel confidence returning. She’s so going to be mine.

“For you,” I say, meaning both my cock and the ring. I pull away a second later, grinning at the effect my moves have on her. “I’m sure it’s just the right size.”

She’s red in the face and her chest is heaving as I take the ring out of the box and place it on her finger. A perfect fit, of course.

“Why—” she begins to say breathlessly when I step away, staring at the ring as if it’s magic, and she’s not sure if it’s good magic or bad yet. “How did you . . .?”

“The details don’t matter, Princess,” I tell her. “We’re supposed to be engaged. How would it look if you show up without an engagement ring?”

She looks like she wants to say something, but she knows I’m right. “You’re right,” she mutters so low I can barely hear her. “I guess I didn’t think about that. Where’d you get it?”

I wink at her and throw her words back in her face. “That old thing? Oh, I just found it lying around somewhere.”

I hold in my grin as she scowls at me and I call the redcap for her bags. We check in the airport and walk through the terminal. On the way to the plane, she says very little. I try to keep my eyes off her tight curves, wanting to keep the little edge that I’ve got.

But by the time we board the plane and get in our seats, some of her spark has returned. We’re flying first class, of course, and she knows as she slides past me to the window seat exactly how much her ass is in my face. The flight attendant brings us some pre-takeoff drinks, and she turns to me, raising her glass.

“This ring is beautiful,” she says, her shoulder brushing mine as she leans slightly in to toast me. Up close, I can smell her perfume and it smells like heaven. Running her finger along the band, she chuckles as she checks out the stones. “Nice bullshit story about where you got it though. So, you’re a May baby?”

“I am,” I admit. “Figured it’d help you remember.”

“Nice idea,” she says with a chuckle. “So where’d you get it?”

Damn, she really wants to know badly. Well, it won’t hurt to tell her. “I got it from Feinberg’s in the middle of town. He’s got a good selection of stuff.”

“It must’ve been a small fortune,” Mindy says, biting her lip unconsciously.

“It wasn’t cheap,” I confirm. Actually, Feinberg will let me bring it back, minus a thousand bucks, but Mindy doesn’t need to know that. Besides, the ring looks good on her hand.

I clear my throat as the plane begins to taxi. “So what’s this place like?”

“Summerfield?” Mindy says, looking out the window for a moment. “It’s a rich bay town, sorta like the Keys or Martha’s Vineyard. Oh, by the way . . . for the next week, your name is going to be Harold.”

“Harold?” I ask, raising an eyebrow. “You must be fucking kidding me.”

“You got a problem with that?” Mindy asks in challenge. “Seriously, it’s what they’re expecting.”

“I’ll go by Oliver,” I say firmly. “There’s no way in hell I’m answering to Harold.”

“But . . .” Mindy says, stopping when I shake my head.

“We’ll say Harold’s a bad joke of a name you gave me. For something being especially . . . hairy.”

Her mouth opens and shuts like a fish and I hold in a grin.

“Nothing wrong with being called Harold,” she grumbles after a moment, having to get the last word in. “I had a goldfish named Harold. By the way, did you rehearse the names?”

“I looked at it a little.” To be honest, I couldn't focus much on anything but Mindy.

She sucks in a breath, frustrated. “Okay, let me give you some tips. Mother can be bossy. She’ll try to run all over you. Grandma pretends to be dumb, but don’t let it fool you—she’s as sharp as a tack.”

“Anything else?” I ask. Sounds like Mindy’s not going to be the only fun I have this next week.

“Listen to me and follow my orders and you’ll be fine.”

I have to grin. She should know by now. “What did I tell you about that, Princess?”

Mindy hums and turns back, her hand brushing her cup and dumping half a Sprite with ice in my lap. “Oh, Harold, I’m sorry!” she says with an overly dramatic gasp.

Before I can react, she gets a napkin and dabs at my crotch. Her strokes barely brush the top of my dick, and it twitches, wanting nothing more than to get rid of the two layers of fabric between me and her soft fingers.

I grab her hand a second later when the shock wears off, putting it firmly in her lap. “I got it,” I say. “You should be more careful.”

My cock is straining against my pants so much it hurts. She was intentionally brushing her hand up against my cock. My cheeks are flaming, and I have to use the photo book to hide my crotch as the plane makes the final turn and starts down the runway, accelerating into the air.

“I really am sorry,” Mindy says with faux sincerity as we reach our cruising altitude. “I so didn’t mean to do that.”

Yeah, right. The little triumphant smile I see on her face says it all.

This is fucking war.

Mindy

My heart pounds in my chest as the limo rolls to a stop in front of Wentworth Estate, parking on the circular driveway. It’s like something out of a storybook, or maybe even a painting. Lush green grass is perfectly trimmed on the huge manicured lawns. Three statues adorn the lawn, all of them classically-themed pieces, one of them of a man on a horse. If I remember what Mom told me, it’s supposed to be a Wentworth who won the Congressional Medal of Honor back in the Civil War or something like that.

“It’s beautiful,” I breathe, momentarily stunned.

“It’s nice,” Oliver agrees.

For some reason, his lack of gushing pisses me off. He sounds so casual about it all.

I’m still smarting over what he did. Pushing his body into me when he gave me the ring, intentionally pressing his big, hard . . . wait, what am I thinking? I shove the thought away, my face turning red.

Jesus, will it ever stop?

We’re not even a day in and I can already cut the sexual tension with a knife. My body is on hormonal overdrive, and I’ve still got six days, eighteen hours, and too many damn minutes before we’re done with this charade.

“You okay?” Oliver asks, seeing my trouble. “Did the plane ride upset your stomach or something?”

I wave off his concern, not letting on to my desire. I can’t let him know just how much he’s affecting me. “You can save the hero act for a bit. I’m just a little nervous, that’s all.”

The corner of his lips curls up into a grin and I grit my teeth. I got the last laugh on the plane, but somehow, I know he has the upper hand now.

“Hey, don’t worry about me,” I say. “Remember the back story?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Oliver says, rolling his eyes. He doesn’t understand yet. Mom and Grandma both have minds like tape recorders and the cross-examining skills of a lawyer. They’ll tear him apart if he starts screwing around. “You only said it a million times on the way over here. We’ve been together a year. I walked into your coffee shop and told you that you were the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Short and sweet.”

A flush comes to my chest. The words sound nice even though they’re fake. “Yeah, something like that. Don’t forget about you dropping to your knees when I said yes.”

Oliver’s smirk turns into a genuine smile, and I feel my flush deepen. “Don’t worry,” he says, giving me a reassuring, smoldering look. “They’re going to buy every word. We’ll see about going to my knees though.”

Somehow, his words don’t give me comfort. It’s like everything he says has layers of meaning, and no matter what, my mind wants to think of sex. Like him covering my body in kisses and being on his knees, his lips . . .

The door opens and the driver, an old man named Sam, stands ready for us. “The Wentworth Estate. Please watch your step on the gravel, Miss.”

I step out, relishing the cool breeze that blows in lightly from the east, caressing my soft flesh as I take in the scenery. It’s a beautiful day with sunny, clear skies, the large French Provincial mansion looming against the azure sky. If I weren’t so nervous, I’d be amazed.

“Don’t worry about your bags,” Sam says when Oli makes a move to grab them out of the back of the limo. “The house staff will get them and make sure they’re delivered to the proper bedroom.”

Oliver gives me a look. “The house staff?”

I just shrug. I knew John had money, but I’ve never cared enough to find out exactly how much. I was expecting a nice big house, not a damn castle with house staff. “I’m just rollin’ with it.”

“If you’ll come with me,” the driver says.

Sam leads us to the cobblestone walkway that leads to the huge double-door entry of the mansion. As we head up, Oliver places his hand on the small of my back. Warm currents begin to ripple out from his touch, and I squirm on the inside, flustered.

“What are you doing?” I whisper out of the side of my mouth, alarmed by what his touch is doing to me. How am I supposed to share a bedroom with this man for a whole week?

“Being your fiancé,” he whispers back, grinning at me. “Come on, Princess. Let’s meet the fam.”

He says it so sweetly that I almost wish it were true for a second. A part of me likes being on his strong arm, though I’d never admit it to him.

By the time we reach the double doors, my forehead is dotted in sweat. My heart is pounding in my chest like I just sprinted a half-mile or something. Truth be told, I'm overcome with sudden anxiety.

Too late to worry now, I realize as Sam puts his hand on the twin handles of the front door. I’m in too deep.

The large door springs open before the driver can turn the handles, and out steps my mother with a small barking dog, a fluffy white Pomeranian at her side. Sam springs out of the way, pretty spry for a guy his age, which is a good thing or else he’d get run over.

“Mindy, my darling!” My mother sings, stepping forward with her arms outstretched. The woman is practically dripping in diamonds, with a matching necklace, bracelet, and earring set over top of her white brocade dress that flows down her body all the way to her ankles. “It’s been so long!”

“Mom,” I say as we embrace. I smell her perfume, and it smells expensive as hell. “I’ve missed you.”

I pull back and feel tears forming in my eyes as I survey her. Her face looks different from when I last saw her. The wrinkles that had begun to show around her eyes are mysteriously gone, along with her forehead wrinkles. It’s a little weird, and I wonder if Mom’s just feeling youthful from love or if she had a little help from Botox.

“You’re lookin’ good. Not as good as me, but you’d do just fine in a singles bar on Ladies’ Night.”

My mother laughs. “Yeah, well, that’s in the past for me. You look good too, honey. I never could have worn a dress like that at your age.”

“Who’s this little lady?” I say, gesturing at the dog who’s running circles around our feet, barking and carrying on in an attempt to deflect attention away from my dress. I feel nervous enough feeling Oliver’s hand still on my lower back. I can’t decide if I want his hand higher . . . or lower.

“Oh, that’s Bertha,” Mom says with a dismissive wave of her hand, “a puppy John got me several months into our courtship. She’s a handful, but I can’t imagine this place without her.”

Weird name for a tiny little dog if you ask me, but hey. Mom turns her gaze on Oliver, her eyes widening as if noticing him for the first time. “Mindy, you never said your young man was this handsome. Why, you’re practically perfect!”

“He is,” I mutter, not quite sure what I’m agreeing with. I step away from Oliver, using hand gestures to complete the introductions. “Harold this is my mother, Mary Jo. Mom, this is Harold.”

Oliver grins, taking my mother's hand and gently kissing the back of it, his eyes twinkling. “It’s a pleasure, Ma’am. They say that a man can see his future wife when he looks at her mother . . . and I’m a lucky man.”

My mom looks at me approvingly, sounding slightly out of breath. “Ooh, Mindy, I like him.”

“Don’t be fooled,” I say under my breath before replying, “Thanks, Mom.”

Mom shakes her head, running her hand down the length of Oliver’s arm in admiration as if he’s a toy on display. “You must work out a lot, Harold. You’ll like the gym, I hope.”

“Oliver, please,” he says gently. When my mom looks at him in question, he chuckles. “I prefer to go by my middle name.”

She looks at me, her eyes accusing. “How come you never told me that?”

“I . . .” I’m at a loss for words when Oliver saves me.

“She’s always forgetting things,” Oliver cuts in. “She even forgot the day we first met and when I decided to honor my grandfather by going by my middle name.”

I turn a dark scowl on Oliver, trying to tell him to stop it with my eyes.

He grins at me and winks, but before I can reply, I hear a voice from the doorway. “Well I heard that you had your mother’s beauty, but that just doesn’t do it justice. It’s good to finally meet you, Mindy.”

A white-haired, distinguished-looking man steps through the doorway, dressed in a fine gray suit and tie, everything about him perfectly groomed.

“Honey! Mindy, this is John, my wonderful fiancé,” my mom gushes as John takes my hand and kisses it, his mustache prickling lightly on my skin. It tickles, and I have to smile a little as he steps back, clasping my hand in both of his and smiling.

“Nice to meet you, John,” I say politely.

“It’s a pleasure.” He turns to Oliver, sizing him up the way men do and looking impressed. “And is this Harold?”

“Oliver,” Oliver corrects as he offers his hand, and the two men shake in another one of those male measuring sticks, both looking like they passed the other’s test. “I recently decided to go by my middle name.”

“Well then,” John says, gesturing inside. “Come on in. Let me give you the ten-cent tour.”

My breath is taken away again as we step fully into the foyer. Gleaming marble floors, impossibly high ceilings, and a winding staircase make the entryway look like a grand entrance to heaven.

“Wow,” I breathe. “So which king did you rob to get all of this stuff?”

My mom clasps her hands together with pleasure. “It is like a palace, isn’t it? The first time I stepped inside, I felt like I’d had my Cinderella moment.”

“Nice place you’ve got here,” Oliver says, again sounding not as impressed as I thought he’d be.

“Everything is—” I start before Oliver pulls me to a stop, cutting off my words.

“It’s nearly as beautiful as my little Princess,” Oliver says, taking me by surprise when he pulls me close, and before I can do anything, he kisses me on the lips. His kiss is intense, powerful, and before I know, it I’m kissing him back, even as his hands pull me against his hard body. I feel a growing heat rising again between my thighs. I’m left breathless, chest heaving when he pulls away. I flash murder at him as he whispers in my ear, “Payback for your little stunt on the plane.”

I can hardly listen. My body is hot, and I know my nipples are tight and aching inside my dress. I’m probably poking through the thin bra I wore to show off the dress. My cheeks burn, and I’m so embarrassed to be turned on in front of my mom.

“You okay?” she asks me, amused. “Young love is so passionate.”

“I’m fine,” I stammer, pushing away and not wanting to. “He caught me off guard. And someone forgot we had garlic chicken on the plane. Tic-tac next time, honey?”

Oliver flashes his mocking smirk at me before giving Mom a raised eyebrow. “I always leave her breathless. Sorry, I couldn’t resist. Your daughter’s too beautiful.”

John chuckles at that. “I’m liking you already.” He pulls out a cigar and inhales as he runs it under his nose before sticking it in the corner of his mouth. “Trust me, I’m so glad I can get these legally now. They’re a bad habit, but I allow myself one or two a week. Cuban, imported directly from Havana. Come, Oliver, let me get to know my eventual son-in-law.”

Oliver smiles. “Got any Cuban rum to go with that cigar?”

“How’s Jamaican? And do you like cars?” John asks, his eyes twinkling merrily.

Oliver laughs. “Of course I do. When I was a kid, I had all the best sports cars in my toy collection.”

John seems giddy like a schoolboy, and he claps Oliver on the shoulder, charmed already. “Come with me and I’ll show you my garage. I’m sure there’s something there you’d like. Let these ladies catch up.”

The two of them head off, Oliver giving me a wink. After they leave, Mom leads me through the mansion.

“Where is everyone?” I ask as we leave the foyer. “Where’s Roxy? And where’s this staff I’m hearing about?”

“It’s not all that,” Mom says with a shrug. “John sent the staff on duty to town together. I wanted to do something special for dinner. As for Roxy, she’s with your aunt out getting their dresses for the rehearsal dinner.”

“I can't wait to see them,” I tell Mom honestly. “It’s been too long.”

Mom shows me around the house, and as we do, I feel a question that’s been on my mind for a long time bubbling to the surface. Finally, I have to ask. “Mom?”

“Yes, honey?” Mom asks, stopping in front of the eighteenth-century German grandfather clock that she’s been going on about for a while. “What is it?”

“Mom . . . do you love him?”

She gives me a questioning look. “What do you mean, Mindy? Do I love John?”

“Yes,” I say, letting my fears out. “Most of the time you talk about him, it’s about his money. His things. His stuff. You come to the door looking like you’ve stepped out of an old Elizabeth Taylor movie or something . . . but what about John?”

Mom nods, looking at the bracelet on her arm, then chuckles. “If John lost it all tomorrow, if we had to hock these diamonds, if we were left with nothing but the clothes on our backs and the feelings we share . . . I’d still marry him. I love him, Mindy. It’s just hard for me to put my feelings about John into words, so I talk about his things instead. You don’t know how strange it is, telling my adult daughter about how I’m left feeling like a schoolgirl again, a . . . what’s the word Oliver used for you?”

“Princess,” I say automatically, and Mom laughs.

“Yeah, that’s how I feel. I’m fifty-four, and I feel like a princess,” Mom says, reassuring my fears. “So, what about Oliver? He seems to be very into you.”

“I . . . well,” I start, lost in thoughts over Oliver’s kiss. My lips still tingle and my body feels warm even at the memory, and I stammer for words. “He’s great.”

“Seems more than great to me. He seems like a catch,” Mom says, but before she can say anything, there’s a booming sound as the doors to the estate are thrown open and a voice I’ve long missed calls out.

“MOM! We’re home!”

Roxy. Oh my God, I’ve got to go back into performance mode. Roxy’s going to want to see Oliver, and he’s going to want to kiss me again, and my body . . . I’m babbling in my head and I can’t stop it.

“Mindy?” Mom says, shaking me back to the moment. “Hey, you okay? You looked pale there for a second. Was it the airline food?”

“No . . . no, I’m fine, Mom,” I lie, wishing it were just the airline food. Fine? I’m not fine, and now I have to deal with Roxy and Grandma.

Shit.

Oliver

“Oh, my darling niece,” Aunt Rita coos as she comes forward and wraps her arms around Mindy. We’re in the waiting room just outside the dining room. John and I spent a good hour in the garage going over his pretty sweet collection, and now it’s time for dinner.

Mary Jo made us all wait outside for the rest of the family to get acquainted with me while dinner was being prepared. I’m glad I dressed the part. This family seems to like dressing up. Chalk one up to my father’s constant social skills lessons. I can go back to being a blue blood very quickly.

There’s a few more people here now. Behind Aunt Rita, Mindy’s grandmother is with two girls, one who’s nearly the spitting image of Mindy except that her hair’s shorter. She must be Roxy. The other looks like she’d prefer to be anywhere else but here.

“Hey, Auntie,” Mindy says excitedly, taking her in an embrace and delivering a kiss to her cheek. She takes turn embracing each woman then steps back, giving her aunt a questioning tilt to her head. “Where’s Uncle Charles?”

“He’s outside having a smoke,” Rita replies, sighing and rolling her eyes. “No matter what I try, I just can't get that man to stop. You take a pack away, he’s got seven more hidden.”

John, I see, has a guilty look as his hand unconsciously pats the suit pocket where he’d put his cigar case, and I’m glad I didn’t take him up on his offer. I seriously doubt he’s going to pull another out for as long as Rita’s around. Meanwhile, Rita turns her eyes on me, and I can feel the question burning in everyone’s eyes. “Who is this fine young man?”

“This is Oliver, my fiancé,” Mindy announces proudly, gesturing to each woman in turn. “Oli, this is my Aunt Rita, my cousin, Layla, my sister, Roxy, and my Grandma, Ivy Jo.”

“Nice to meet you ladies,” I say, flashing them all a charming smile. “And thank you, Princess, for remembering my name this time.”

Ivy Jo holds out her arms at me as Mindy gives me an evil look. “Don’t stand across the room, young man. Come give an old lady a hug.”

I chuckle and do as she commands. “Who am I to resist the charms of a beautiful woman like you?”

“Oh, stop it,” she murmurs as she pulls me into a hug and runs her hands up and down my back, finishing with a pinch of my butt. “Nice and strong, just like old Johnny used to be.”

“Grandma,” Mindy says warningly and casts me a sympathetic glance. “Let’s not molest my fiancé before dinner, please?”

I chuckle. “It’s okay. Sometimes, it’s nice to eat your dessert before dinner,” I tease. Mindy blushes slightly, and I give Grandma my full attention. “Johnny’s your husband?”

“Was,” she corrects, but I can tell by her voice that it’s an old loss. “He’s worm food now, but boy, do I enjoy remembering the days when he used to hike these old legs back and—”

Mindy coughs loudly, shaking her head, while Layla grabs her grandmother by the shoulders and pulls her to the side, shutting her up. “Uh, she gets that way.”

“No problem,” I reply with a laugh. “I love doing some hiking myself,” I say, looking over to make sure Mindy heard me.

Layla gives me a grateful nod while Mindy turns a deeper shade of red, and Roxy steps forward, peering at me with wide eyes. “Oh, my God, he’s gorgeous!” she exclaims to Mindy. “Girl, you got a keeper. No wonder you wouldn’t stop bragging about how good he was in bed.”

Mindy scowls murder at her sister. “Roxy, please don’t—”

Roxy shakes her head, not listening. “Shoot, I might have to go back home with you if they’re serving up dishes like this.” She gives me a look. “You got a brother? You know, for the longest time, I swore you were just the battery-operated fantasies of a girl who wasn’t getting her needs met. Glad to see I’m wrong.”

“Ignore her,” Mindy half pleads, half commands. This is hilarious. “She’s just being silly.”

“What?” Roxy asks, giving her sister a smirk. “So anyway, about there maybe being a younger version of you . . .”

I chuckle. I like her already. “Yeah, I have one, but you’d want to kill him after five minutes. I have a feeling Tony would like you though.”

“Why’s that?” Roxy asks, her eyes going slightly wide.

“Well, he kind of likes anything with a vagina and a pulse.”

Mindy glares at me with eyes that seem to say I want to kill you, but Roxy just laughs. She’s enjoying the banter.

“I hear you’re a singer,” I say. “What do you sing?”

Roxy lights up like a light bulb. “Yes, I have my own band. We sing on Friday nights and weekends at a bar in town called Trixie’s. Lots of rock, but we mix in pop too—we kind of have to depending on the night.”

“Really?” I say honestly. “That’s impressive.”

“Little Roxy has a beautiful voice,” Rita says. “Why don’t you sing a few lines for the man?”

“Please, let’s not,” says Layla with a roll of her eyes. “I can only handle so much ass kissing at once.”

I ignore Layla and give Roxy a smile. “Go for it if you want.”

Roxy looks like she just hit the jackpot. “I can,” she says with a dimpled smile. “What do you like? Beyoncé? Taylor Swift? Katy Perry?”

I laugh. “I’m more of a Johnny Cash man myself, so I’ll let you choose.”

“Honey, I don’t do country. But I can start singing some Fifth Harmony and Mindy can start twerking for us. Remember your last birthday when you got drunk and they started Worth It? Oh, my God . . .”

Mindy places her hands on her hips and opens her mouth to berate her sister when the doors to the dining room swing open and Mary Jo appears in the doorway, clapping her hands and beaming at us all. “Dinner’s ready!”

We go into the dining room, where I see that Mary Jo has actually gone to the trouble of putting place cards out for everyone. While I help Mindy with her chair, a short, tubby man who smells like every nasty, old ass smoky bar in the world comes in, walking by me and spewing clouds of noxious odor behind him. “Sorry I’m late.”

Rita tries to hold back her disgust as Charles sits next to her, but I can understand. The man smells like he didn’t have one cig, but the whole damn pack. “Charles, if you don’t mind?”

“Piss off,” he growls, and I’m about to say something about being respectful, but I feel Mindy dig her fingernails into my thigh as she gives me a small shake of her head. I get it. I don’t know these people and it’s not my place, but it’s hard to watch the disrespect.

“So how long have you worked for Honda?” Grandma asks as we wait for the servers. “I didn’t know they have an office in town.”

“Oh, since I graduated school, and I have to commute,” I say quickly, keeping a smile on my face. Mindy gave me some details, but a lot of it I’m just making up on the fly. “It’s worth it though, small-town living and all that.”

“And how did you first meet?” John asks.

Mindy smiles and tries to take the lead. “Well, you guys have to listen to this. I was in the coffee shop, my hair all messed up. He walks in and says I’ve been—”

“Actually, I came into the coffee shop and was sitting down. Mindy started flirting with me, asking if I worked out. I was surprised by her boldness, but I liked it. I had to give her my number when she asked me for it.”

“That sounds like my Mindy,” Ivy Jo winks. “Forget the clothes—check out the biceps.”

“I don’t blame her. I’d have been offering free fraps and singing Call Me Maybe if I’d had the chance,” Roxy adds with a grin. “And I hate that song.”

“Now, now, Roxy,” Mary Jo says. “I think you’ve embarrassed your sister enough.”

“Just kidding, Mom,” Roxy says, obviously not apologetic. “But seriously, Oliver, you do look like you work out. I’ll play the guy here—so whatcha bench?”

“I really don’t know,” I reply. “I’m more into martial arts than lifting.”

“Really? You didn’t tell us you were dating Bruce Lee,” Roxy teases Mindy.

Beside me, I feel Mindy go stiff, and I don’t have to look to know she’s cutting me with her eyes. She reaches over and puts her hand on my thigh, giving me a fake smile, when there’s a commotion at the other end of the table.

“Jesus!” Ivy Jo squeals as we hear a yelp, and suddenly, Bertha goes running around the dining room in fear. “Mary Jo, you get that HEFFA on a leash or I’mma skin it and make me a coat! Or maybe a rug!”

“Bertha, you behave!” Mary Jo snaps, and Bertha runs out. She looks at me apologetically. “Sorry.”

“Oh, it’s no problem,” I say easily. “You don’t like dogs, I take it?” I ask Ivy Jo.

She raises her nose to the ceiling. “I’m more of a cat lady myself.”

I chuckle. “My dog would never let me own a cat.”

“Oh, yeah, your golden retriever,” Mindy says. “What was his name?”

“Her name was Hershey, and she was a brown spaniel,” I say casually, chuckling as I look at Mary Jo. “What was it I said about her being forgetful?”

I don’t have to look in her direction to know Mindy is cutting her eyes at me again. But I ignore it, enjoying conversation with her family. Besides Charles, I think I like everyone in the room. They’re certainly not the cultured one-percenters you’d think of with a place like this, but they are real. And I’ll take real over a pedigree any day.

Everything is going fine and smooth when Mindy suddenly sets her napkin aside and gets up from the table. “Can I speak to you outside?” she asks, walking to the doorway and turning around to give me a look that says Now.

“Sorry,” I say, flashing a wink at everyone. “Relationship goals.”

There’s a polite chuckle from the group as I leave the table, following Mindy out the back door. We step onto the marble patio, and I take a second to admire the layout of the back garden. It’s beautiful, with a clear sky and the stars starting to come out in the purplish sky. It’s going to be amazing later.

Before I can comment on it, Mindy whirls on me, her voice barely contained. “What the hell are you doing?”

“What do you mean?” I ask innocently, trying not to laugh. Watching her upset like this is just glorious. “I’m being your fiancé.”

Mindy shakes her head, and I must admit she’s hot as hell when she’s pissed. Hotter than she normally is. “Don’t play dumb. You know exactly what you’re doing.”

I shrug, purposely still trying to piss her off. “I thought what you said was boring. Come up with better stuff next time.”

“Boring? Come up with better stuff?” She grabs me by the shirt, getting right in my face. Her eyes are sparkling with anger, and again I think, damn, she’s hot when she’s pissed off. I so need to make her mine.

“Listen here, you muscled up, arrogant bastard!” Mindy hisses, shaking me and snapping me back to her words, “You’re supposed to be here doing what I say, not trying to humiliate me. That had better be the last time you slip up or I’m gonna introduce your balls to Grandma’s nutcracker collection, got it?”

She moves to turn away, but I grab her arm, pulling her in close. Lowering my lips until they’re a fraction of an inch from her ear, I grind my hips against hers, letting her feel my cock as it quickly stiffens. “What did you say you wanted to do to my balls?”

She’s flustered, her face going red. Her lips are parted, and in the light, I can see her eyes go darker. She’s torn. She wants me, but she also wants to slap me. I’d give it to her right here on this balcony, make the choice for her, but I know there are others inside. I’m not going to push my luck that much.

I move my lips until I’m just a fraction of an inch from hers. She mewls like a kitten almost, and I know she wants to close the gap, to kiss me again. Right when our lips are about to touch, I hear steps at the entry and Mary Jo comes out, her voice cutting through the tension between us.

“Everything all right out here?”

At the sound of her Mom, Mindy tears away from me, her breathing ragged.

“Yeah, Mom,” she says, not even able to look at me. “We’ll be there in a minute.”

Mary Jo gives us a questioning look, then shrugs. “Okay. But the duck’s on the table, and I’d like to get things started. You know how Grandma is with her pills. We can’t delay dinner too long.”

She goes inside, and Mindy turns back to me. “Don’t touch me unless I tell you to. I still haven’t forgotten that stunt you pulled back at the airport and that kiss you gave me.”

I chuckle, wiggling my eyebrows. “I’m sure you haven’t, Princess. I’ll admit, you kiss pretty damn good, too.”

My comment only riles her up more. She swirls and stomps back into the mansion, giving me another breathtaking view of her ass in that tight dress and those heels. In my mind, I can imagine pulling her dress up, bending her over, and seeing just how soft the skin of her ass really is.

I shake my head, adjusting my cock to make sure I don’t stick out too much when I go back inside. As I step back into the house, I can't keep the grin from coming across my face. Crossing the foyer back toward the dining room, I mutter softly, “You’d better get used to it, Princess.”

Mindy

“That meal was wonderful, Mary Jo,” Oliver says beside me, stretching his arm out along the back of the leather loveseat. “Thank you and John for your hospitality.”

I shift around, trying to minimize the chances of contact between me and Oliver, but the loveseat is too damn small and his arms are just too damn long. We’re sitting in the library after dinner, relaxing and sipping some after dinner drinks. Mom wanted everyone to have a little bit of family chill time after dinner, but I’m so ready to do anything but chill.

Sitting next to Oliver, I’m fuming on the inside while trying to look as calm as possible, smiling on the outside. But really, I’m still smarting over what he pulled at the table. Even after we came back, he would trip me up when he could, never directly saying I was wrong but subtly steering things. Every time Roxy or Grandma had a question, I could see Oliver putting his own little twist on things, just enough to make me look foolish if they remembered what I’d told them before.

I could literally grip his balls right now and squeeze. Just grab them right through his trousers and yank. But I hate that the very thought of touching his balls and his cock fills me with desire.

John gets up, stretching. “Well, I think I’m going to turn in. No offense to you all, but I have one more day of work to do before I officially go on vacation. Have a good evening.”

Mom smiles at Oliver, charmed to the bone by him. At least that’s gone well. “Well, Oliver, I’m so glad you could make it here to spend some time with us. I can see why Mindy is so taken by you.”

“My word, Mary Jo,” Grandma remarks with a cackle, “you keep on with much more of that and your nose is going to turn brown.”

Mom blushes, and I understand what Grandma means. Mom can’t seem to stop praising him.

Roxy lets out a snort and a giggle. “I still want to see if this Tony is as bad as Oliver makes him out to be.”

If he’s half the cocky bastard his brother is, I think to myself, you’re better off hanging out with the gay guys at Trixie’s.

Ivy Jo waves a hand. “I’m just so proud that Mindy has found her a nice handsome man to treat her right. And he has money too.” Grandma beams at me for a moment before asking. “Should I be planning for great-grandbabies anytime soon?”

My heart skips a beat. Babies? Is she kidding? “Uh, Grandma—”

Oliver chuckles, grabbing me around the shoulder and squeezing me close. “Maybe not soon, but we sure have been practicing, haven’t we, Princess?”

He winks at me, and I can’t help it. I bite my lip at the idea of ‘practicing’ with him. But still . . . I could just kill him.

It’s hard not to scowl, but instead I just grin. “Uh, honey,” I say, gesturing at Roxy and Layla, “not in front of the children.”

Roxy sticks out her tongue, but I’m quick to change the subject. “So Mom, what about the wedding—”

“Oh no, Mindy Price, I’m serious,” Grandma persists. “When’s it happening? I’m not getting any younger, you know, and not everyone gets to be a great-grandmother.” She looks at her other two granddaughters. “Unless one of you two wants to give me one first.”

Roxy grabs her sides. “Oh no, Granny Goose,” Roxy says in between holding in laughter, “don’t go putting designs on this uterus. I don’t need that kind of pressure on me, not when I just barely climbed out of the womb. Why, I’m perfectly innocent!”

“I seriously doubt that,” I mutter under my breath, and Oliver chuckles. I’m annoyed with him, but I can’t help but be charmed by his handsome smile.

Roxy shakes her head. “Besides, I still have a lot to do before I have a baby. Queen Bey might be able to have a couple of kids, but she’s already the queen. I’ve got a way to go yet.”

“A baby’s the last thing Roxy needs. She needs to get a real job first, at least,” my mom says.

“I resent that. What’s wrong with singing?” Roxy complains.

Mom frowns. “I think it’s sweet and all that you like to sing, but baby, the odds of ever actually making it big are slim.”

“Tell that to the people down at Trixie’s,” Roxy rebuts, sounding hurt. “They love my voice.”

“I think it’s admirable that you have the guts to try and find your own way,” Oliver says, and I hear something in his voice that I haven’t heard before. He sounds legitimate, like it’s not for show. He looks directly at Roxy as he talks, the rest of us forgotten. “I think you should keep going for it. Don’t get roped into a job, a life you don’t want, just to fulfill someone else’s idea of what you should do. Trust me on that one.”

Oliver seems to have silenced everyone, but Grandma finally speaks up. “Let’s just leave the poor girl alone. She’s young and has more than enough time to figure everything out.”

“Thank you,” Roxy says with relief. “Now can we please get back to the subject at hand? Babies—when are y’all gonna have babies?” Roxy says, turning to me. Oh, I could kill her. I think I can. The law might be on my side. I’m temporarily insane. “Cause y’all look like you’d make a litter of beautiful ones.”

“We’re waiting until after we’re married,” I say. I give Oliver a meaningful glance. “We want to do things right and all.”

I figure that as soon as we’re gone from here, I’ll call Mom and tell her that Oliver and I had some issues and broke off our engagement. I’m sure it will upset them, but I really didn’t expect things to get this deep.

“Well hopefully, that’s sooner rather than later,” Grandma says. “You might think I’m still a spry chicken, but I’m just about plucked and ready for the fryer.” She looks around and smirks. “Not that I can’t think rings around all of y’all though. But on that note, I think it’s time for bed.”

Grandma starts to get to her feet, but before she can heave herself up, Oliver’s there guiding her up. “Thank you, young man. Handsome and a gentleman. Good night, you all.”

“Goodnight, Grandma,” I say, watching Oliver give me a smoldering look as he sits back down. When he settles in, I lean over and whisper to him softly. “That was nice of you.”

“She’s funny,” Oliver whispers back. “I like her.”

“I think it’s time we all retired,” Mom says, also rising to her feet. “We have a packed schedule this week. Breakfast is served at eight in the morning. I expect everyone to make it, even if you’re just eating some Pop Tarts.” She arches a brow at my sister. “I’m looking at you, Miss Roxy Price. And show your sister and Oliver to their room, will you?”

“Of course,” Roxy replies, jumping to her feet. “We made sure to give you guys a nice, private room far from everyone else so you can’t disturb everyone with the wild sounds of whips and handcuffs,” she says with a big wink and nudge from her elbow to my midsection.

“Oh, we Ieft those at home,” Oliver quips, making me blush as we let Roxy lead us up the stairs.

“You guys really make a cute couple,” Roxy says. “You could be a couple in a movie or something.”

“Thanks,” Oliver says. “We get that all the time.”

“I was serious about your brother. No pressure, but I’m a little hard up,” Roxy says with a laugh, and I’m surprised. My outgoing little sister, hard up for a date? Then again . . . Oliver’s brother, if he even exists? No chance in hell.

“Trust me, you don’t want to do that,” Oliver says, and I feel an awesome wave of relief wash over me. He’s not a total asshole.

Roxy lets out a sigh as we reach the guest bedroom. “Damn. Oh, well. Here it is.”

Roxy, swings open the doors, stepping inside with us. “Welcome to the . . . I think John called it the Morgan Bedroom. No clue why.”

The room is huge, with a giant picture window that dominates one wall and a balcony outside, white walls, and a huge gray four-poster, canopied bed in the middle. The rug is gorgeous, and every carved twist of wood, from the details in the door frame to the gilded edges of the molding on the ceiling, screams luxurious. I look around, and I notice that our luggage is waiting for us beside the Cherrywood dresser.

“Goodnight, you two,” Roxy says, mischievously wiggling her eyebrows at us. “Don’t make too many bumps in the night. Or at least, muffle the screams when you do.”

Before I can protest, Roxy turns and walks out, closing the door behind her. I step toward the door and turn, realizing that I’m alone with Oliver for the first time since meeting him in the living room at Gavin’s.

The moment hits me, and I realize that I’m faced with the situation I’ve been dreading. This room is so extravagant, so why isn’t there a sofa in here that I can make him sleep on? The room has everything but a damn sofa.

“This is . . . nice,” I remark, trying to stall. I walk around the bed to the other side of the room, studying the night through giant French doors. “We’ll have a great view in the morning.”

“We will,” Oliver agrees, and I turn around to see him beginning to unbutton his shirt.

“What are you doing?” I ask, my voice unsteady. “You can’t be serious!”

He gives me a look before pausing. He’s got his shirt half opened, revealing a set of super-hard abs and tanned skin beneath.

“I’m unbuttoning my shirt. What’s it look like?” Oliver asks. “You know, I can’t exactly go to bed in a sports coat and khakis.”

My mind is flooded with thoughts of all the dirty, sexy things that could happen if I let them. I’d normally be down for a night of fun with a man like him, but I just can’t get over his cockiness. My pride’s getting in the way of a good fuck. But lying in a bed with him with only a few inches and some cloth between us? Asshole or not, his body is irresistible.

I grab myself by the arms, squeezing, trying to ward away the desire flowing through my body as the image of his lips burning into mine flashes in my mind. My pussy clenches as I remember the kiss from earlier that seemed to promise paradise. Oh, fuck.

I’m not caving on the first night. No fucking way.

I set my face as hard as I can and stab a finger at the floor. “I think you should sleep on the floor for tonight. I’m not sharing a bed with you.”

Oliver looks at me like I’m crazy before letting out a chuckle. “Like hell. I’m a man, not a dog. If you want to sleep on the floor, be my guest.”

He pulls his shirt all the way off, tossing it to the side. In an instant, I have a full view of him. Every muscle on his torso is defined and flows like a piece of artwork from one to the next, and all of them are saying fuck me, Mindy.

My knees give a wobble as they become weak. Sweet baby Jesus. He is on fire.

I place my hands on my hips, trying to be strong. “Yeah, that’s exactly why I want you to sleep there. You are a dog, and I don’t fucking trust you.”

On one hand, I’m pissed that I can’t let my pride go. I want to get in that bed and lick him from head to toe, but beyond his being an ass today, I’m scared. I’m scared what would happen if I sleep with him. And it’s totally not me. I’m on guard because he’s different. He feels . . . I can’t decide if the right word is dangerous . . . or special.

And he’s not really my fiancé, I remind myself. It’s pretend.

“When are you going to learn, Princess?” he says, walking over and placing his hands on my waist. “I don’t follow your orders.” He leans into me just a little, invading my space, and whispers in my ear, “And I think you like it.” I can hear the smirk in his voice.

His body is so hot that my temperature is rising. I can see the ridges between his muscles, ridges I want to trace with my fingernails and scratch lightly, just the way I know he’d like it. I look up at his full, sensuous lips, and I practically feel them on my skin.

Fight it, bitch!

I pull away, my chest heaving and my face burning. “Keep your hands off me.” I try to sound firm, but what comes out sounds more like a moaning whisper. “Remember my rules.”

My words sound so weak. I’m having a hard time even thinking straight, and Oliver grins as if he’s saying you’ll be changing that tune soon. “If that’s how you want it.”

“Yes, that’s how I want it,” I rasp, not even trusting myself to look at him. I stare at the door instead. “You need to follow the rules.”

No, you don’t! Take me now! my body seems to scream. Touch me, tease me, make me scream your name!

“I’m going to go change,” I mumble, trying to calm down. I go get my bag and walk into the adjacent bathroom. I stare at myself in the mirror, taking a big calming breath. I throw cold water on my face, hoping it’ll shock my system back to normal, but after patting it dry, the same lust-crazed, barely in control reflection still looks back at me from the mirror.

“Okay, Mindy. Get yourself together. You’re stronger than this. Stop letting him know he affects you and he’ll stop,” I whisper, but the girl staring back at me says I’m a fucking liar. And I’m pretty sure she’s right.

I go through my bag, finding my brand new nightgown. I bite my lip. I shouldn’t wear it. It’s only going to make things worse. But fuck him. He’s got me all worked up, so now it’s his turn.

I take my gown out, a little red number I got from Victoria’s Secret, and put it on. The satin slips over my skin and I feel sexy, my nipples hardening as the lace rests against the tops of my breasts, and I quickly brush my teeth, looking at myself in the mirror. I’ve made a lot of strong men go to their knees with a lot less than this, and Oliver Steele is no different. I can make him beg and then shut him down. Or at least I’ll be in control when I fuck him senseless.

I walk back out, strutting with each step and not saying a word.

Oliver’s sitting on the bed in just his boxers, and he pales when he sees me. He swallows a lump, and I have to smirk a little when I see another lump twitch and grow between his legs. “Uh, you’re wearing that?”

I hide my grin as I walk over to the bed and sit down. “It’s my favorite nightgown. If you’ve got a problem with that, I guess you need to pull on some sweatpants or something,” I say with a raised eyebrow and a pointed glance down at his crotch.

His eyes burn into mine. My nipples get even harder, and I know he can see the diamond hard points. I don’t care. His lips seem to twitch, and I know he’s imagining sucking on them.

I pull back the blanket and lie on the sheets, stretching just a little bit, displaying what he isn’t going to get tonight. Oliver stares slack-jawed for a second before lying down, and then I see it. Lying down, there’s no way to hide it anymore. That huge fucking bulge.

His cock is straining to get out, and I’m both glad and regretful he’s wearing boxers without a front fly. I’d love a peek, but it’s hard enough already to not to want to pull it out. My mouth waters—I can't help it—and Oliver notices my swallow.

“If that’s what you want,” he says with a deep growl to his voice. There’s no teasing, no fucking around now. One word from me, and he’d fucking ravage me.

“It is,” I say, my breath rasping again. I turn away, pulling the sheet up and over me before squeezing my eyes shut. Desire burns through me. Oliver clicks off the light, and the minutes pass like years.

I can’t sleep. Several times, I almost roll over and grab it, reach for him. But I fight back the feeling. I can’t give in. I’m not gonna let him win. But why does it feel like I’m the one losing tonight?

Oliver

I wake up in the early morning sunlight to the sound of running water and a hard cock. Rolling onto my back, I let out a soft groan, opening my eyes. The ceiling is so high that it gives me vertigo for a moment, and I close my eyes again, reaching over to feel the warm sheets next to me.

The spot beside me is empty, Mindy’s soft, sexy body nowhere I can feel. I turn my head and open my eyes, seeing nothing but rumpled sheets that still hold her scent and warmth. She must be taking a shower.

I slept like hell, maybe the worst night of sleep I’ve ever had. Every time I would close my eyes, they’d fly open again at the slightest sound she made, hoping that every movement was her turning to me, giving in to the moment. I groan again, gripping the bedding and wishing she were right here and ready. I’d punish her with the wood she gave me all night long.

I look over at the bathroom, my mind drifting into fantasy mode, but after a night of maybe an hour or two of sleep at most, I don’t give a shit.

I lie in bed, trying not to think about her in that nightgown when she walks out. Thankfully, she’s dressed in blue jeans and a white scoop-neck top, but damn, she still looks hot as fuck. My eyes are silently and quickly undressing her as she saunters across the room and sits in the chair near the window. She bends down to pull on some socks and gives me a look down her top at the valley between her tits. My cock twitches again, and I’m glad the blanket’s over my waist.

“Sleep well?” Mindy asks, and there’s a hint of a smile on her lips. I know she thinks she’s won, but she’s dead wrong. I can see in her eyes that she’s just as sleep-deprived as I am.

I yawn, placing my arms behind my neck. “Pretty damn good,” I lie. “Haven’t had a night’s rest that good since the Delaney sisters.” I kick my legs a little, and the blanket slides down to my knees. I don’t do anything to hide my hard-on now, even squirming my hips slightly as if I’m moving to get comfortable. Mindy’s mouth drops open a little, and I know what she’s thinking about. “You?”

“Oh . . . fine,” she says, her eyes falling to my cock before jerking away. I see red come to her cheeks and I smile.

“It’s a quarter till eight,” she says, her voice small as she suddenly focuses on making sure the tongue on her shoes is just perfect. “You should get ready. Mom was serious about everyone being there for breakfast.”

“Leave any hot water for me?” I ask jokingly. A mansion like this could probably heat enough water for a hotel and not have a problem.

“Should be enough,” she says, still refusing to look at me. She fusses with her shoes a little more, then stands up. “I’m going to head down.”

“No,” I say, rising from the bed, and she looks at me with surprise. “Wait.”

“What—” she starts, then crosses her arms underneath her breasts, frustrated. “Why?”

“Don’t you want us to be more cohesive? We need to go down to breakfast together.”

“Uh, yeah, I guess,” she says, biting her lip again, and she looks so cute. I smile and swing my legs over, giving her my back as I go over to my bag. “So . . . I guess I’ll just hang out. Hurry, please?”

I chuckle. Please, now? Progress. “I’ll be ten minutes.”

I gather a change of clothes, some nice black dress pants and a white dress shirt, and walk into the bathroom. I take a quick cold shower, half to take care of my dick and half to wake me up. After a quick shave, I brush my teeth and step out, feeling more in control of myself.

Mindy looks up from sitting on the bed, picking at her nails. I see something flash in her eyes and she says, “You look . . . refreshed.”

I grin. “Thanks. Listen, about last night—”

“You don’t have to say anything,” she says, giving me a slightly regretful half smile. “What we’ve both been doing is wrong. But we made it through one night. We only have six more to go. Let’s just drop anything that came before and get through this without killing each other.”

You mean fucking each other, I say in my head.

“Agreed,” I reply instead, though I know it’s all a lie. There’s too much tension between us. There’s only one way for this to end up, and that’s her playing cowgirl on my cock.

Still, I smile and offer her my arm. “Ready?”

She looks at my arm for a moment before she takes it, rising to her feet. We leave, and part of me feels good with Mindy on my arm. Maybe we’re pretending, but I could get used to pretend.

We go downstairs, but before we enter the dining room, Mindy plasters a heavenly smile on her face.

“Good morning,” Mary Jo chirps as we walk in. “Thanks for making it on time.”

I look around and quickly notice that not everyone is here. Aunt Rita and Ivy Jo are here, along with John, but Charles, Layla, and Roxy are missing.

“Good morning, ladies . . . and John,” I say with charm. “Lovely morning, isn’t it?”

“Did you guys sleep well?” Mary Jo asks.

“Absolutely wonderful, didn’t we, babe?” I ask Mindy. “I slept like a baby,” I add.

Mindy nods. “Mmmhmm. That bed was really comfortable and the room was gorgeous. I loved the view from the balcony. I felt like I was sleeping at the Ritz Carlton.”

“I hope some baby-making action was going on,” Ivy Jo mutters. “Less viewing. More screwing.”

I chuckle as everyone seems to ignore her. I guess she’s earned the right to say whatever the hell she wants at her age.

John sets down his spoon, standing up from his plate of grits and eggs to give Mindy a hug. “I’m glad you both enjoyed your room. You know we just had it redone? My father had turned it into my playroom when I was a child. I just couldn’t see doing that anymore, so I had it restored and upgraded.”

“It’s lovely,” Mindy says, looking around. “Hey, where’s Roxy?”

Her mom scowls, and I have to laugh. Mothers everywhere are the same. “Late to breakfast, as usual. I swear, that child . . .”

“And Uncle Charles?” Mindy asks, hoping to stop a rant before it begins.

Rita shakes her head. “Honey, you’ll be lucky if he’s up by two. He usually skips breakfast. It’s those damn cigs. He has no appetite.”

“Good morning, lovelies,” a cheery, singsong voice says. Roxy walks in looking bright faced, a disgruntled Layla behind her. “How are my favorite people?”

Roxy goes around kissing everyone before sitting, totally ignoring the daggers her mother is staring at her. Meanwhile, Layla sort of slumps into a chair, still looking like she’d prefer to be anywhere but here.

“Would’ve been better if you were here on time,” Mary Jo finally says, stabbing at her eggs like she’s ready to murder the chickens they came from.

Roxy looks over at us, giving us a saucy grin. “So how did you two sleep?”

“Everyone seems to be asking that,” I say, reaching over and hanging an arm around Mindy. “We slept great.”

“Like a baby,” Mindy agrees, letting my hand stay for a bit.

Roxy looks disappointed. “I didn’t hear screams and whips at all. Major letdown, you two. Get with the program.”

“We’re not here for entertainment,” Mindy grumbles, rolling her eyes and taking my hand off her shoulder.

Silence falls over everyone for a few minutes as breakfast is eaten, and I must admit that whoever Mary Jo has cooking for everyone has skills. Roast duck is easy. Good grits are hard.

As Roxy scrapes the last of her insisted on granola out of her bowl and crunches down, Mary Jo rises to her feet and claps her hands together. “Enough dilly-dallying. There’s so much to do and not enough time to get it done. We’ve got to get flower girl gowns, and there are decorations and dealing with the caterer . . .”

Roxy sticks her hand up, sort of, interrupting her mother. “Mom, I think it would be better for everyone if we worked in groups. Keep you sane.”

Mary Jo brightens. “That’s actually a great idea, Roxy.”

Roxy sticks her tongue out at Mindy. “You’re not always the pet!”

“Girl, please,” Mindy says, waving her away. “I’ll go with you, Roxy. Keep you out of trouble.”

“And I’ll go with them,” Ivy Jo adds. “Keep these old bones youthful.”

Mary Jo looks like she’s about to protest but relents with a nod. “Well then, can you three deal with the dresses? Rita and Layla, come with me to get the decorations.”

“And Oliver can come with me for a ride through town,” John says. “I want to show him a few things and get his opinion on some others.”

Mary Jo claps her hands together, pleased. “Okay. That sounds great. Be back here by one for lunch.”

As everyone is getting up from their chairs, I pull Mindy in close. “Bye, Princess,” I tell her, giving her a kiss on the lips. This time, she isn’t as shocked, and I’m surprised when she kisses me back quickly.

“Goodbye, handsome,” she tells me, giving me a cute little smile that stops me in my tracks for a moment. I think I’m having just a little too much fun with this roleplay. “See you in a bit.”

I get up, and John and I make it outside and jump into his classic Mustang convertible, cherry red, of course, and we head into town. The engine purrs as we cruise, and I have to admit, it’s a great car.

“That Mindy is quite a handful,” John says as he drives, the top down and just the engine providing background noise. “Just a more grown-up version of her younger sister. But what I love about them most is that mischievous sparkle in their eyes. They’re always ready to hit you with a joke that will have a grown man giggling.”

I chuckle. “I can't argue with that. You’d be surprised how often she knocks me on my heels.”

“Do you love her?” John asks me directly as we pull up to a stop sign. “No offense, but I’m about to be her stepfather. I’d like to know she’s going to marry a man who will love her, not just be a good match.”

I hesitate. Love is such a strong word. I know I’m supposed to be pretending to be in love, but to actually answer a direct question, I feel uneasy. But I can’t help but answer with what he wants.

“Yes,” I say. “Heaven and stars above, I love her very much.”

John studies me for a moment, then nods. “Good. Then don’t ever let her go. Girls like her only come around once in a lifetime. So to hell with the rules. You make sure you hold her, please her, and give her everything she desires.”

“Desires,” I muse as John pulls away. Desires indeed.

Hopefully, she gives in to that desire sooner rather than later. Another night of her dressed in that nightgown and I’m going to have a serious case of blue balls.

“Oliver?” John asks. “Did you hear me?”

“Hmmm?” I reply, glancing over at John. “Yeah. I was just thinking how stupid rules can be, and that you’re right. Mindy deserves her wildest dreams.”

“Good,” John says, turning his attention back to driving. I look out the car window again, not really watching as the greenery rolls by. I’m thinking about Mindy. And rules. The only thing separating me from her is a flimsy barrier of rules she’s put up between us.

And if I want to get the rules to change . . . I need to change the game.

Mindy

As Roxy and I ride with Grandma, I know I’m in big trouble. I can't stop thinking about the way he kissed me.

The way that his hands felt on my waist, and the way his thumb brushed over my cheek when our lips parted. It’s fake, but it felt so real. I can still count on one hand the number of times he’s kissed me. The scary part is that each one is getting better than the last. The really scary part is that I’m looking forward to the next one more and more.

It’s more than the way he uses his lips or the way his body feels pressed against me. It’s the look in his eyes. There is real desire there, and something else too. Something that scares me.

But last night was a real test of faith. I think I deserve entry to the gates of heaven because I’m a goddamn saint for resisting him. Call the Pope or something, because I felt like Eve, and Oliver’s big fucking dick was the forbidden fruit. I didn’t partake, so now I need to be rewarded.

“Yoo-hoo! Earth to Mindy!” Roxy says, waving her hand in my face.

I’m snapped back to attention. Roxy’s driving us down the road in her white convertible with the sun roof down. The wind ruffles through our hair, and the weather is amazing. You couldn’t ask for a better day, really. With clear blue skies and the sun warming our skin, everything is just right. Off in the distance, I can see the deep blue ocean. This place is nothing but beautiful. If I had to name a place to live, I think I would love to live here.

“Yeah?” I ask, setting aside my thoughts about Oliver and the creeping fantasy I have of him and me and this place. “What?”

Roxy grins, raising her voice to talk over the wind. “You look like you’re in another world. Was the sex that good?”

I scowl at Roxy. “You do realize your grandma’s in the back seat, right?”

“Are you serious?” Roxy asks, glancing in the rearview mirror. “She says and hears things far worse than that, ain’t that right, Grandma?”

In the back, my annoyance grows as Grandma cackles. “Honey, I might be old, but I ain't dead. I’ve had more than my fair share of rides in the rodeo back in the day and put more than my fair share of cowboys away wet at night.”

“See?” Roxy says as I wish I could just crawl into a hole and die. And Brianna thinks I’m forward? “Hell, I’d have her twerking on ladies’ night at Trixie’s if I could.”

“Don’t you dare,” I say, feeling like the most mature person in the vehicle. “You’re not about to have my Maw-Maw down there looking like some geriatric Nikki Minaj.”

Roxy laughs, and silence reigns for a moment. “So, how have you been?” I ask Roxy seriously. “I haven’t gotten a moment alone with you since we got here. You doing okay?”

“I’ve been good,” Roxy says, giving me a smirk and a shrug. “But Mom’s been giving me hell for taking a year off college to pursue singing. What else is new? She doesn’t approve of anything I do unless it’s something she wants.”

Her words resonate with me. Aren’t I pulling this whole charade to please my mother? I’m making an ass of myself in front of my family just so I can appear to have found a man. “It’s just her way,” I say.

We make it to the dress shop. It’s a small little place in a strip mall between a karate studio and an eyeglass shop. I’m not sure at first, but when Roxy leads me inside, I see that everything’s high-end. “This looks expensive as hell. I’d feel like I was slumming it in a Vera Wang,” I say. “Jesus, this thing costs more than what I make in two months.”

“Good thing I have John's credit card then,” Roxy says with a chuckle, patting her hip pocket.

“What do you think of that?” I ask.

“What do I think of what?” Roxy asks as Grandma settles into one of the well-padded chairs and hums to herself.

“Of Mom marrying him?” I ask.

I know the conversation I had with Mom, but I want Roxy’s opinion too. She bites her lower lip for a second as she thinks before answering. “He seems like a really sweet man. At first, I didn't think that they made a good match. He's laid-back, and as you know, Mom can be pretty . . . high-strung. But for the most part, they've meshed pretty well. And despite all the bullshit, Mom’s really the same inside.”

“That's good. As long as she's happy,” I say as I finger a tight little party dress. It’d look great on me, and I can just imagine myself dancing with Oliver . . . wait, what the hell?

“That's always what's most important,” Grandma says as I quickly let the dress go. Now is not the time to think about Oliver. “Because if you ain't happy, everything and everyone around you will be miserable.”

Roxie lets out a snort. “I know that's right. Preach, Granny Goose! You’re on a roll today!”

“And if the shoe doesn't fit, don't wear the stinky thing,” Grandma says, egged on by Roxy. “Cast it out!”

Roxy laughs as the salesperson comes over, looking like someone cut a fart in church. “May I help you?”

“Yes, we’re here to pick up some dresses,” Roxy says. “The name is Wentworth?”

At the mention of John’s name, the bitch face disappears and a giant smile comes out. “Of course! I’ll have them out in a second.”

It’s not quite a second, but they’re back in a jiffy. They’re certainly high-end. I seriously doubt any flower girls in history have worn dresses quite this level before.

“These are cute,” Roxy says. “These would be great for your wedding too, Mindy!”

I want to have enthusiasm, but It’s hard to even think about. There won’t be any marriage. At least, not with Oliver. “Yeah, that would be cool.”

“What’s the matter?” she asks, noticing my tone. “You don’t seem too excited. Aren’t you looking forward to your wedding? You two just seem so perfect for each other.”

Looking at my sister’s encouraging smile, I feel like a fucking fraud. I should have known this fake-marriage thing wouldn’t be so casual. I catch Grandma looking at me. She tears her eyes away when I see, but in that instant, I’m reminded that Grandma has been around for a long time. She’s raised two daughters and a son, buried a husband and her son, and the whole time has been smart as a whip. She sees things other people don’t. I need to be careful.

“Of course I am, but we haven’t even set a date yet.” God, I sound guilty, I know it.

Roxy shrugs, turning her attention back to the dresses. “Fine. I didn't mean to upset you.”

I just want to hurry up and get this week over with. I feel like time is crawling, every minute is a year of mental agony already, and every mention of sex, Oliver, weddings, or babies is like a stab right in my gut.

We spend the next hour checking the dresses, but in the end, everything looks good. The tab makes me blanche while Roxy doesn’t bat an eyelash at letting them swipe John’s card. Instead, she just laughs as we carry the dresses out to the car. “Man, I really wish we could have gotten some of those party dresses. I saw you eyeing one. You’d look great in it. Not as good as me, but good.”

“I’d make you look like a little girl playing dress-up,” I tease back. “Oh, wait . . . you ARE a little girl playing dress-up.”

“Bitch,” Roxy says with a laugh, and I feel good again. On the way back, I forget about my worries as we all catch up on each other’s day-to-day lives.

When we reach the Wentworth estate, my stomach is grumbling and I can't wait to get some food. We both help Grandma out and bring the bags in, setting them in the den where I guess Mom’s starting to gather the stuff.

“We’re home!” Roxy sings when we walk back into the foyer. “Looks like Mom, Rita and Layla, and the men aren’t back yet. Let’s go wait in the TV room. You’ve gotta check out John’s system. They should be back soon, but seriously, Min, you need to see this thing. It’s nearly the size of a movie screen!”

“I hope they’re quick, ‘cause I’m starving,” I say, following Roxy into the entertainment room. Her description was a bit over-the-top. It’s not the size of a movie theater, but still, a seven-feet-tall projection screen is pretty damn sweet. “Wow, imagine watching Ryan Gosling on this thing. He’d be life-sized.”

“Imagine watching porn on this thing,” Roxy says with a laugh. “The guys’ dicks are life-sized.”

“You . . .” I start before just shaking my head. “Just please tell me that you watch it by yourself.”

“Well, duh.”

Before I can reply, I hear a yell from the foyer. “We’re home!”

Thank God for a mother who insists on making her lunch appointments. We go out where Mom and Aunt Rita are handing off their bags. “How’d you girls do?” Mom asks. “Been back long?”

“Everything went well,” Roxy reassures Mom. “They’re in the den. You guys?”

“Good. We got almost everything,” Mom says before scowling. “They just won’t be able to get in the Toro sushi that I wanted.”

“Oh, that sucks,” I reply, trying not to sound annoyed. Jesus Christ, Mom. When I was a kid, you’d have been happy with Chicken of the Sea, and now you won’t be happy unless the fish were given massages before getting filleted. Jeez, no wonder you couldn’t trust the wedding planner to do everything. There’s no way any one human could remember everything you want for this thing.

Mom catches my tone, though, and chuckles. “Okay, Mindy, point taken. All right, lunch time. You guys wait—”

“Oh,” Roxy says next to me, her hand pressed against her chest. “Talk about Prince Charming.”

I turn to see Oliver walking in carrying a bouquet of roses. My heart does a backflip as he walks over to me, a beaming smile on his face. “I brought something for you, Princess,” he says, handing me the roses. “They’re not as beautiful as you . . . but then again, nothing is.”

I stare at the bouquet as if it’s a vase full of snakes. Still, his words have an impact, and I’m shocked. What’s he up to? “Th–th–thank you.”

“Oh, my God. That’s so sweet,” Mom says, fanning her face to prevent smearing her mascara, tears in her eyes. Every woman in the room has watery eyes with the exception of Layla, who looks like she’s going through great lengths not to roll hers. Even I’m feeling a bit choked up, and looking into his face, I’m having to remind myself over and over that this is all an act. He’s just pretending. He has to be.

“You’re welcome,” Oliver says, his deep voice dripping like honey. He leans down to give me a firm kiss on the lips. His scent envelops me. It’s a bit spicy from his cologne, but underscored with his unique manly flavor. I love it, and pretend or not, my body responds.

When he pulls away, I almost feel like I need a ventilator. My head is swimming, I’m confused, not able to think, and I can feel my cheeks burning. To hide my embarrassment, I bury my nose in the roses. Maybe it’s the moment, but they smell better than any roses I’ve ever seen.

“That was so sweet of you,” Mom repeats. “You really are a gentleman.”

Oliver grins and flashes her a smile. “I try.”

“Can we clone you?” Roxy asks, and while I know she’s just being silly, I swear she sounds like she’s all gaga too.

Oliver laughs, shaking his head. “Sorry, Roxy, I don’t think that’s possible yet.”

“No, seriously. Can we clone? I got a cup that you can donate your DNA—”

“That’s enough, Roxy!” I say firmly.

“Selfish, stingy . . .” Roxy’s words trail off as she makes a face, then turns and walks toward the dining room.

“Hold on, Roxy,” Oliver says. “John and I were talking, and we’ve had the tables set out on the second-floor balcony. We’re going to do lunch out there. The day is too beautiful to let it go to waste.”

Mom looks at John, beaming. “That’s a great idea! You two make a great team, John. It’s going to be great having Oliver as your son-in-law.”

“Thanks, honey,” John says, “but it was all his idea.”

Oliver turns his eyes on me and smiles. It’s not a smirk, and it’s not mocking or joking. It’s a smile that makes me weak in the knees. “It’s nothing, really. I do it all for her. My Princess deserves the absolute best.”

I tear my eyes away from his gaze, my cheeks flaming. My heart feels fuzzy. Weird. I’m so confused and conflicted. I know this is all supposed to be fake, but Oliver is turning up the heat, and my heart, among other places, thinks it’s real.

If he keeps this up, I’m going to be clawing his back and screaming his name before the week’s out.

Oliver

“Here you go, Princess,” I say, pulling out the seat for her. Out on the balcony, I don’t think I could ask for a more perfect lunch time. The sun’s high in the sky and the skies are a perfect blue. Past the back lawn, you can see the wall that borders the estate before the land drops, and the ocean begins. It’s not too warm, not too cold, and the breeze has just a hint of salt on it. I don’t think I could have scripted a more beautiful or romantic location for lunch.

Mindy’s cheeks flush as she sinks in her seat. The staff have set up small tables for two or three people around the balcony as if it’s an outdoor restaurant. Each couple has their own table while Roxy, Layla, and Ivy Jo share a third, leaving one for me and Mindy.

“Thank you,” she says, her voice small.

I wink at her. “My pleasure. You look lovely, by the way.”

I take my seat as a cool breeze flows in from the ocean, and I inhale deeply. “Jeez, this place is like a paradise.”

“It is,” Mindy agrees, enjoying the cool air with a satisfied look. “This was all your idea?” she asks quietly enough so the others don’t hear. She doesn’t need to worry—she’d have to be talking pretty loudly. There’s comfortable space between the tables.

I nod. “It was nothing. Everything was already planned. I just suggested we do it out here.”

“Why?” she asks.

“Because you deserve it,” I say with a smile. “And I wanted to have a nice lunch with you.”

She stares at me, unconvinced. “I can’t tell if you’re playing or if you really mean it anymore, Oliver.”

“Maybe a little bit of both,” I tease. “Maybe I don’t really know myself.” And that’s the truth. I might be getting a little carried away, but maybe I actually mean it.

“Yeah, which means it’s bullshit,” she says. “You strike me as a man who always knows exactly what he’s doing and what he wants.”

“Isn’t that what you want?” I ask.

She starts to respond, but the kitchen guy comes out with the menu for everyone. He goes around to each table, leaving the menus and then taking the orders for drinks. John’s going all out. We’re practically at a restaurant.

There’s only a few selections of wine. Mary Jo is saving the best stuff for the actual wedding. I take a quick look, then hand it back to him. “Can I have the Darioush Chardonnay 2010 for us, please?”

The man nods, pleased. “Certainly, sir.”

Mindy immediately glowers at me when he’s gone. “Who said you could order for me?”

“I did,” I say firmly. “I’m supposed to be your fiancé, remember?”

“How y’all doing over there?” Roxy calls from her table. “Enjoying the view?”

“Just fine,” Mindy yells back, flashing a quick smile. “How about you worry about what’s on your own plate?”

“Smart ass,” Roxy yells.

I laugh. “You two are a riot. I bet you two were cats and . . . well, cats when you were kids.”

“Oh, you haven’t seen anything yet.” Mindy scowls. “It’s tame right now because people are around. It’s an all out rumble when it’s just me and her. Or it used to be.”

“What would we do without our younger siblings?” I ask, my mind briefly going to Anthony and wondering if he’s doing what I asked him to do.

He’d better, I tell myself, or when I get back, we’re going to have more than just a little talk this time. I really should find time to give them a quick call, but it’s been impossible so far.

“Repent,” Mindy jokes, “for thou art cursed with the younger sibling. And with great wailing and gnashing of teeth, the elder siblings were thus cursed.”

I can’t help but to laugh. “Something like that.”

“Nah, I’m just joking,” Mindy says more seriously. “I don’t know what I’d do without that girl.”

“Then why didn’t you come here with them? If a coffee shop is your thing, I’m sure John could’ve set you up.”

Mindy frowns. “Because when Dad died . . . I just felt paralyzed. Like, I didn’t know what to do with myself. Then running the coffee shop gave me something to focus on. Mom moving away was like a relief at the time. When she was around, it reminded me of him too much.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. But I definitely understand where you’re coming from,” I tell her honestly. “My parents . . . they’re not together either.”

She peers at me closely, looking at me with real concern. “What happened?”

Before I can reply, the waiter returns with my drink. I look over the menu quickly and decide. “I’d like the lamb kebabs with couscous and grilled vegetables. Mindy?”

“That sounds . . . actually, I’ll have the same,” Mindy says, giving me a little smile. “What? You were right on the wine, so I figure I’ll trust you on the food too. So . . . you were saying?”

“My father doesn’t speak to me,” I say when the waiter is gone. “We had a disagreement back at the company.”

Mindy fingers her wine glass. “You know, there’s a lot I don’t know about you, Oliver. Hell, I didn’t even have time to Google you. What was the disagreement over?”

I hesitate. This conversation isn’t going in the direction I want it to go. I’m supposed to be turning up the heat, not turning up the mush. “I’d rather not talk about it. At least right now.”

Mindy frowns. “That bad?”

“It was.” There’s silence for a few moments as I fidget, trying to think of anything to steer conversation away from me, but thankfully, Mindy doesn’t push things any further. Finally, I glance around the balcony at her family. “So how do you think it’s going?”

Mindy looks around, thinking deeply before replying. “I think everyone is pretty much fooled, if that’s what you’re talking about. Well, except for Grandma, but she’s always wary. But you need to stop with the tricks.”

I hide my grin behind the glass. “I’m done with those. Nothing but complete obedience from me from here on.”

“Why do I think you're mocking me?” she asks suspiciously. “And why is it that almost everything you say seems to have a double meaning?”

“It’s a talent of mine, one of many, I might add,” I say with a grin. “When I was in school, they always told us never to talk yourself into a corner. Always give yourself another possible explanation in case things go wrong. So . . . well, I’m having fun—aren’t you?”

“I most certainly am not,” Mindy says, blushing and tucking a lock of her rich brown hair behind her ear. “I mean . . .”

“You’re playing the game as much as I am,” I finish for her. “And that’s fine. It’s no fun playing a game without a good partner to play it with.”

“Why did you do this?” she says suddenly, trying to duck out of the way the conversation is going. “What is it that Gavin has on you?”

The ability to hide pocket sevens and the devil’s own luck on the flop, I think, but I don’t tell her that. “Well, he and I have known each other since soon after I got back to town. And he did something big for me, so I owed him one. I’ll be honest, I thought he was insane when he first proposed it, but then . . .”

The waiter interrupts us, bringing our plates. He sets them down before leaving, and I give Mindy a nod. “Bon Appétit.”

“Salud,” Mindy says, reaching for her wine. As she does, her hand hits the bottle of sauce that the waiter had brought for our kebabs, and it tips over. “Shit!”

Before I can react, sauce has splashed all over my plate, and I’m pretty sure I have some of it on my shirt. Mindy blushes, reaching for her napkin, but I wave her off. “It’s okay, really.”

“Really?” she asks nervously, and I look at my right hand, which got covered in sauce all over my index finger.

“Really. Here, try some for me,” I say, holding out my finger to her. “Tell me if it’s too spicy, or else I might end up with hiccups all afternoon.”

“No way,” Mindy says, stopping when I put my finger against her lips.

“Do it,” I say, lowering my voice. “Open your mouth.”

Her eyes darken as she opens her lips, and I slide my finger into her mouth, my heart quickening and my cock jumping to rock hardness in a split second as she licks my finger. Her lips are velvety soft, and her tongue . . . it’s beyond words. It’s devilish, erotic, and as she sucks my finger in deeper, I can tell she likes it as much as I do.

“Hey, get a room over there!” Roxy yells from her table.

Mindy freezes, pulling her head back and her face blushing furiously. Not saying a word, she gets up and runs into the house. I’m on her heels in half a second, ignoring the fact that my cock is tenting my pants or the impending argument between Roxy and her mother as I follow Mindy inside.

She’s quick, her shame and my hard-on giving her an advantage until I catch her just outside our bedroom. I grab her arm and pull her to a stop, where she spins against the wall, her eyes wide and desperate. “You said you were done with that!”

“I didn’t say you could leave,” I say, moving close to her. I step even closer, putting my arm out and trapping her against the wall. “Who gives a shit what Roxy says? Everyone ignores her antics most of the time, it seems. You were enjoying it as much as I was.”

I reach out and stroke my finger down her cheek, and she’s practically trembling beneath my touch. “Stop,” she half moans, half whispers. “Just stop!”

“Why?” I ask, leaning in closer. We’re less than two inches apart, and I can feel the heat and the tremble of her breath on my skin, and I want her so badly I could take her right here in the hallway. “You’re running from what we both want. What we both need.”

A soft sigh escapes her lips. “We’re not supposed to be doing this.”

“There’s nothing wrong with it,” I whisper, leaning in closer. “There’s nothing wrong with having a little bit of fun.”

I move in closer, and our lips touch again. Our kiss is soft at first before growing hot, and I trail my lips down her neck, licking and feasting on her skin. She’s delicious, and she melts into my touch, her hands pulling me closer as I close my hand around her left breast, feeling her hard nipple under my fingers and pulling on it.

“Oh, sweet God,” Mindy moans, her thighs parting as I slip a knee between them, and she starts grinding against me. “What the hell are we doing?”

“What you need, Princess,” I moan, moving my hand from her breast and down her belly to unbutton her jeans. I slide my hand inside and run my hand over the slick satin of her panties. She’s soaked, nearly dripping wet as I slide them to the side and slip two fingers inside her while the heel of my hand rubs against her clit.

I know I shouldn't be doing this here in a hallway. Someone could walk by and see us. But I’m filled with so much desire I don’t want to fucking move. And the danger of someone seeing adds to the excitement.

“Oh, fuck,” Mindy moans, her fingernails digging into my shoulders as I nibble on her ear.

“You know you want this as much as I do,” I whisper in her ear, rubbing the secret spot inside her quickly as I rub my thumb over her clit. “Say it. Say you want it.”

“No,” Mindy moans, trying to fight it and losing. “I can’t . . .”

“You can. Say it. Say you want to feel my cock pumping into you and making you scream. You know how good it’ll feel stretching you open and making you—”

“Coming,” Mindy moans as her pussy tightens around my fingers. She clamps her lips on my neck, stifling her cries against my neck as she bites down, and I hiss, the pain adding to my strokes as I keep her coming, melting against my hard body and clinging to me, needing me . . . wanting me.

When she sags against the wall, spent, I pull my fingers out and run them under my nose, relishing the scent before I lick them clean. “So fucking delicious.”

“Fucker,” Mindy half gasps, half curses me, even as a satisfied grin crosses her beautiful face. “That was totally against the rules.”

“I told you, I don’t like rules,” I say, stepping back. Mindy doesn’t move. Her legs are still shaking from the intensity of her orgasm. I turn and start walking down the hallway before I stop and look back. “And Princess?”

She can’t even speak, but her eyes find me.

“Next time,” I say, giving her my best intense look, “it’s not going to be my fingers. You’re going to be coming on my cock.”

Mindy

I lean back against the wall, buttoning up before someone sees and trying to catch my breath. My legs are trembling from the aftershocks of the orgasm Oliver gave me, and my heart is still hammering in my chest. And the intensity of his promise as he walked away . . . I can’t help but wish he would’ve dragged me into our room and fucked me senseless.

I suck in a trembling breath, rubbing at my throat where I can still feel the burning kisses he left on my skin. My panties are soaked. I need to change them. His eyes held sweet promise the whole time, his fingers ripping a climax from me that was otherworldly.

This is getting out of hand. I wasn’t supposed to feel this way. I want him to take me. To possess me. And I don't care about any of my fucking rules anymore. I want him to break them all.

“Are you okay, darling?” a soft voice says behind me.

I nearly jump out of my skin when I look to my right to see Grandma looking at me with concern.

What the hell? How the hell did she sneak up on me? She can barely move.

I swallow and flash a cheery smile. “I'm fine.”

“You sure?” She persists. “You ran away from your table like a bat out of hell. The dessert wasn't even served yet.”

“I just needed to clean up what spilled on me. I didn’t want it to stain.”

She's quiet for a moment, letting me squirm in my obvious lie. We can both see my shirt is unchanged. Finally, she looks at me. “Is everything all right between you and Oliver?”

“Of course,” I say. “Why wouldn't it be?”

Grandma waves her hand lightly. “Oh, I don't know. It just seems that you're not happy when asked about him. To me, that's a sign that there is trouble.”

“There's nothing wrong between me and Oliver. If anything, I'm just a little high-strung about Mother getting married. After what happened to Dad, I never thought I'd see the day.” While the last part’s true, I’m just trying to deflect her curiosity. The truth is . . . there might be trouble, but not what she’s thinking. There might actually be something building between us.

Grandma shakes her head. She loved Dad like a son. “I never thought so either, but you know people have to move on with their lives. It wouldn't have been fair if she sat there and lived in the memory of your father and never started living her life again. Look at me. I never remarried, and a part of me regrets it.”

This is news to me, and I feel compelled to take her hand in mine. “Oh, Grandma, I had no clue that you were lonely. You always seem so strong and independent.”

“That was just the shell that I put around myself. Every morning I wake up alone is terrible. It gets to you after a while,” she says.

I shake my head, tears forming in my eyes. “Grandpa would’ve wanted you to be happy.”

“You know, Mindy, for the longest time, I thought the opposite. But then I realized that I was projecting my fears onto my deceased husband. I felt guilty because of my own feelings. By the time I realized my truth, it was too late. Now I would be happy and just settle for a great-grandbaby.”

Damn, that again. Why, oh, why am I to be saddled with these expectations? It’s not fair to Grandma, but it’s also not fair to me, and it makes me feel even more like a liar.

I do a nervous chuckle, trying to buy for time. “Well, maybe we’ll surprise you.”

It makes me sick to my stomach saying it, but I don’t know what to say. “Babies do tend to sort of just . . . well, happen.”

“Well, as much as I would love that,” Grandma says, “I wouldn’t dare ask you to do it to make me happy. If it happens, it happens. The most important thing is to live your truth. Because when you do that, the universe will make all the things you want happen.”

Live your truth. When I’m living a damn lie. I can't believe I allowed myself to get into this! What was I thinking? I’m too used to joking about things and brushing things aside. I didn’t stop to consider the feelings of others who would be caught up in my web of deceit because I didn’t think it was that serious.

It’s hard, but I manage to plaster a grateful look on my face. “Thank you so much for your words of wisdom, Grandma. Don’t know what I’d do without you.” I pull her into an embrace, holding her frail body tight. “What can I do to ever show you how much you mean to me?”

“How about visiting me more often? You don’t want to wait around. The next time you see me, they might be carrying me out in a cardboard box.”

“Oh, stop it. I’ll do better. I promise.”

“That’s what I want to hear,” Grandma says. Standing on her tiptoes, she gives me a kiss. “Now come back out here and get your dessert. The others will be wondering where you went.”

“Okay, I will,” I tell her, turning toward my room. “After I go to the bathroom to tinkle.”

She nods at me and totters off. I sigh in relief as soon as she’s gone. This is turning out to be harder than I imagined. I thought it would be easy to come back, crack jokes, and hide behind all the bluster. Oliver isn’t making it easy by being so irresistible.

Just a few days, I tell myself. This will all be over. I’ll tell them Oliver and I are done. And this will just be one bad memory.

I go to the bathroom and clean up, changing my panties. He’s so going to pay for that.

Back outside, there’s a commotion going on. Grandma is waving her arms, yelling at Mom, while Bertha is going off like she’s on crack, and it takes a moment for me to figure out what’s happening.

“I told you about keeping this dog on a leash!” Grandma is snapping, pointing at Bertha, who is circling her and barking at her like she’s intruder. I look, and my breath catches in my throat as I see that Grandma’s slacks have been ripped, although I don’t see any blood. “That heffa doesn’t like me!”

“I got it,” Oliver says, rising to his feet and letting out a piercing whistle. Bertha stops in her tracks, sitting on her haunches. Slowly, Oliver approaches her. When he gets close, he bends down and picks her up with ease.

“There, there, girl,” he says, stroking her gently. “Time to put you in time out.”

“Wow,” Roxy says, shocked by how easy Oliver handled the problem. “You’re a dog whisperer too?”

“Glad someone could tame that little heathen,” Grandma mutters, retaking her seat. “If I’d known Mary Jo was going to let that ball of fur run wild, I would have brought my cat, Giselda, to put her in her place.”

I ignore Grandma for the most part, my heart fluttering as I watch Oliver hold and stroke Bertha. I don’t even know why. I’m okay with pets, but the way he’s holding the dog in his arms, almost like it’s a baby, is doing weird things to my ovaries.

I walk over and sit back down at the table. Oliver follows me over, still holding Bertha.

“That was something else,” I say to him as he sits down in his seat. The dog looks like it’s silly putty in his hands, nuzzled against his chest. It’s hard to act like nothing happened after he just finger-banged me in the hallway, but I have to pretend like nothing did, both because it’s my family and because I need to maintain my sanity.

“I have a way with dogs,” Oliver says with a smile, looking up at me. His eyes seem to say to me, and with women.

A flush comes to my cheeks and I look away. I can still feel his fingers inside me, and I want more. So much more.

Oliver gives me a questioning look. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” I lie through my teeth, giving him a sickly, weak grin. “I just . . . I could use a little bit of that Panna cotta.”

“Here,” Oliver says, taking a bite of his before sliding it over to me. “Take mine. I think Roxy has devoured the rest.”

“Thank you,” I say automatically. Oh, God, I’m thanking him now?

The Italian custard is delicious, and as I eat, I watch Oliver. I’m afraid. I came into this week thinking this would all be easy. That Mom would be so much the center of attention that I wouldn’t have to keep building lies on top of lies. And if I got lucky, maybe even get a little play cock.

Now, my defenses are crumbling, and I’m constantly thinking about babies and the idea of Oliver’s thick, juicy . . .

I’m hanging on by my fingernails at the edge of a bottomless pit, and I don’t know how much longer I can keep it up.