As promised, we met in the lobby shortly after six and walked out into the warm evening air. We had been rather surreptitious about leaving together because of the trouble Peach might get into for consorting with guests of the club. With barely a nod I followed her out, we didn’t exchange a word until we turned onto the busy bright street out of sight. Though I couldn’t mistake the looks she kept giving me; they made me smile. Perhaps Nick was right, perhaps this could work. If not, at least I could point the finger of blame in his direction.

“Feeling like a secret agent yet?” I joked in an attempt to break the ice.

“Yeah,” she laughed. “Sorry, I just have to be careful. New job and all. I should have perhaps met you somewhere instead.”

“In hindsight maybe, but no harm in living a little dangerously.”

She flashed me a smirk, which turned out to be a gorgeous reward for my corniness. This was perhaps only the second minute ever I’d spent with her but being around her felt strangely natural and familiar. I began to suspect this would be a pleasant drink if nothing else. We, at least, didn’t have far to walk as it was only a stone’s throw to any number of potential drinking spots.

“So, I have to know,” I started hesitantly as we walked, “are you going to tell me about the garter?”

“Really, you want to start there? I thought this was about some kind of wedding subterfuge? Or did I get the wrong end of the stick?”

“I suppose it is, I was just curious.”

“Nothing to tell really… think of it like a lucky charm. My turn: how about you tell me something about yourself to even the scales?”

“That sounds fair, though I’m not sure what that would be.”

“How about the fact that you need a fake bride? Which begs the question, why are you single? That’s what makes me curious, are you some kind of player?”

“No nothing like that.”

“A spy?”

“Nope.”

“Then surely you have some kind of embarrassing disease then?” she said as her gaze traveled south.

I let out a laugh. “Hell no. And technically I need a fiancée not a bride.”

“To-may-to, te-mah-toe.”

We arrived at the place I’d been meandering towards as we spoke, I stopped and gestured to the understated bar.

“Sure this place looks fine,” she said.

True to its name the White Stone Café, had a half-stone, half-plaster exterior, with potted palm trees on the sidewalk that looked slightly neglected and in desperate need of watering, but otherwise the bar looked decent enough for our little meeting. It was quiet inside, given that it was early in the evening, and we found a secluded table in the window.

Unlike the darker rear of the bar the sun was still bright enough outside to illuminate us well. I felt glad for this as my eyes found their way back to study Peach. She was uncommonly attractive, the light shone in her jade green eyes and radiated from her hair. I couldn’t help but stare for a moment, considering the odd circumstances that had brought us together. She smiled back at me cheerfully in relaxed silence until the waitress arrived.

“Good evening folks, what can I get you?”

I nodded to Peach in anticipation of her request.

“Hi, white wine for me please. Do you have any sparkling?” Peach turned to ask the waitress while I studied her exquisite profile.

“Ah, not by the glass I’m afraid,” answered the waitress with an apologetic expression.

“That’s fine, we’ll take a bottle,” I interjected before Peach’s disappointment even had time to fully manifest.

“Really, are you sure? You surprise me, you don’t look like a wine drinker.”

“You could say it’s in my blood.”

“Well, it will be soon,” Peach joked as she lifted her eyebrows at me. Her manner was a delight and we chuckled together as the waitress left.

“Now I’m curious about that too. You have much to tell, mister,” Peach continued.

“About what, the wine? It’s the family business, and has been for three generations now. We have a large winery and several vineyards nestled on the border towards California. Which is kind of where you come in.”

“Go on, color me intrigued,” Peach said, leaning forward with her elbows on the table and her chin in her bunched up fists.

I wanted to laugh again at her charming nature and found I was smiling broadly as I replied. “I guess there’s no reason to dress up my explanation. In short, I need to be engaged for my inheritance and so I can take over the company.”

She blinked at me in silence for a while, I watched as her brow furrowed slightly. The subtle expression wrinkled her nose in an irresistible way.

“Sounds like quite a pickle.”

“You could say that. And as far as I can figure, there’s no other way around it.” I nodded slowly to her with an honest look of affirmation as an ice bucket appeared next to us.

“Would you like me to open it?” asked the waitress, depositing two tall flutes in front of us.

“No, that’s fine. I’ll take care of that,” I told her, and took hold of the bottle to check the temperature. Fortunately it was already ice cold and well chilled.

“Okay, and how would I be involved? What exactly would I need to do?” Peach asked, her train of thought back on track with the engagement proposal.

“To be honest I’m not exactly certain. This is the first time I’ve ever done anything like this. But I suppose, if you were to play the part, at the bare minimum we’ll have to get you a nice ring and you’ll need to pretend to be my fiancée at any functions I ask you to,” I said loosening the cork on the bottle with a twist and a quiet hiss. I did notice the glimmer that flashed in her eyes at the mention of the ring. But she was smiling brightly as I filled our glasses. “I don’t think it would be for long, a week or two at most.”

“Sounds reasonable. Here’s to your inheritance,” she announced happily, holding out her glass.

“Yes, if all goes well,” I responded with a clink. I was taken back by her exuberance at the strange request and eager acceptance, but followed her lead in taking a large drink of the cool effervescent liquid. I was quickly finding myself wrapped up in her bubbly character which seemed to perfectly mirror the sparkling drink in our glasses. She was as equally intoxicating.

“If you do agree and I get my inheritance, you’ll certainly be compensated handsomely.”

“That was going to be my next question,” Peach grinned. “And obviously there were have to be some rules that we’d have to work out, but how about the ring, would I get to keep that?”

“I don’t see why not. If you really wanted it…”

“Well, marvelous! This sounds perfect,” she exclaimed, finishing her glass. “And we’ll both get what we want.”

“And what do you want, Peach?”

“Nothing crazy, I promise. Just to start my own business. So the money will come in very handy.”

“Then we’ll have to make sure this goes off without a hitch,” I said with a laugh, catching my own pun, then grabbed up the bottle again to refill our glasses. “Let’s get to know each other a little better before we start talking business, shall we?”

As we finished a second bottle the conversation moved onto all the simple but practical details we needed to figure out to make our plan a success. We were now throwing out increasingly wild ideas.

Her delight at every aspect of our proposed subterfuge was infectious as we debated the make believe engagement. We would both have to have adequate knowledge of each other’s lives to prevent any suspicion. My relatives were notoriously calculating and wary with anything regarding the business, so we would have to be ready and very prepared.

“I still can’t believe you’re so happy to go ahead with this,” I said, pouring out the last drops of the bottle.

“Handsomely compensated, remember,” she responded, “besides, you had me at the engagement ring! So, for the story, how did we meet?”

“Hmm.” I considered this for a moment, the strong sparkling wine was already impairing my clear mental faculties. Blurring the edges. “Perhaps we met on one of my sales meetings out of state? At the moment, I’m the only one taking care of that. So there’d be less chance the details get followed up on.”

“How about if I’m a wedding planner, working with a distributor?” she exclaimed with unnecessary loudness and just a hint of a slur. Peach covered her mouth at her unintentional volume and glanced around self-consciously.

“Yeah, that works. Sounds perfect in fact. Wait, are you single?” I asked with sudden alarm. It would certainly complicate things to have an inquisitive boyfriend waiting in the wings.

“Yes, now why do you ask that, Ethan?” she asked with a mischievous grin, but before I answered she waved my reply away with a slightly wobbly arm and continued, “and you! You’ve never answered that question mister, out with it. Why is such an eligible bachelor single?”

I paused thinking of the pain of my last real attempt at commitment and how it had ended. That was a deep and embarrassing wound that had never really healed despite the years that had passed. There didn’t seem much need to divulge this but Peach’s warm and sincere gaze upon me felt reassuring.

“Let’s just say my last proposal didn’t work out quite as well as this.”

“Ah, a shame. Well, here’s to this one working out far better!” she exclaimed, lifting her glass up to toast before staring sadly at its lack of contents. She pouted her plush lips dramatically and we both laughed again. With our arrangement provisionally sketched out there was no need to stay, but I found myself unwilling to leave her heavenly company just yet.

“How about we move on somewhere? Let me take you to dinner?” I asked, but suddenly remembered her curious remark from that afternoon. “Or maybe… you said there’s something you usually do after work? If I’m going to be your fiancé I think you ought to tell me,” I said with a teasing nudge.

“I don’t know if you’re ready for that,” she whispered, grinning at me conspiratorially.

Perhaps I wasn’t, but my rapidly lowering inhibitions and rising curiosity would not abate. I obviously needed to loosen her tongue a little more, which in itself was a fairly evocative thought.

“Maybe you’ll be ready after cocktails,” I announced confidently, raising my hand for table service.

“Oh yes, and I know just the thing to commemorate our agreement. Blushing Brides!” Peach said with equal enthusiasm.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Oh come on, you’re supposed to be a vintner! Don’t tell me you’ve never heard of it mister-heir-to-a-winery? Champagne, grenadine, and peach schnapps? Absolute heaven if you ask me.”

“It’s not like we produce champagne, there’s a bit of a French monopoly on that.”

She was far too busy explaining her request to the waitress to take heed of my remark. I watched her admiringly until the waitress again warned we would need to open another bottle.

“Make it so,” I exclaimed holding up my gold expense card.

Peach seemed to be in her element as she rambled on happily about make believe wedding plans and this particular drink.

When it arrived I studied its distinctive pink blush and Peach seem to match even more closely to this drink with her strawberry blond hair, bubbly nature, and dare I say irresistible flavor. It may have been the previous bottles of sparkling wine speaking, but it was a delicious cocktail to be remembered.

“So, about this thing you usually do after work?” I asked after the cocktails were drained.

“You’re going to think it’s silly, but perhaps we can consider it research. How about I just take you there, you may just laugh if I tell you.”

“Very well, lead the way, my blushing bride to be!”