Chapter Fourteen
“You want me to do what?”
When Foster came into her office and closed the door, that was the last thing she’d expected him to ask her. She didn’t know what she’d expected—there definitely wasn’t a tiny part of her that fluttered at the idea of being closed in a windowless room with Foster—but this came as a total surprise.
She’d heard him. She just wanted him to repeat it because she didn’t believe it.
He let out a weary sigh that was no doubt designed to play on her sympathies. “Would you be willing to pose as my date for my family’s Thanksgiving?”
Pose as his date. Not be his date. So, despite the flare of annoyance she quickly tamped down, she was safe. She wasn’t dating him. Their relationship status would remain safe. Besides, if he kept saying jerky things like pose as his date, she would never be in danger of falling in love with him. No matter how great the sex was, she could never love someone she didn’t like.
But still. Pose as his date?
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why do you need me to pose as your date?”
“Uh . . .” He looked uncomfortable. Oh God, wait. Did he think she wanted to actually be his date?
“It’s an unusual request, that’s all I’m saying. I find it hard to believe you can’t find your own date.”
“Of course I can find a date.” Of course he could.
She waited.
“Fine, I can’t find a date.” She smiled. She liked it when he admitted he was wrong. It happened so rarely. Each time was like a tiny little present she kept in her heart.
Not that she kept any part of him in her heart.
“How do you know I don’t already have Thanksgiving plans?” She didn’t, but she might.
“I don’t. That’s why I’m asking.”
She never had plans for Thanksgiving. She’d always wanted to, but her family thought Thanksgiving was too pedestrian for them. Besides, it involved a lot of cooking. Becky suspected the pedestrianness of it was a convenient excuse to get out of the cooking.
She desperately wanted a real family Thanksgiving. One like Charlie Brown had, or the ones Dakota had. She was always invited to Dakota’s family Thanksgiving, but those were in North Carolina and Becky never felt she could impose. It was one thing to drop in on a friend’s family across town; it felt like way too much of an imposition to drop in from across the country.
So, really, Foster was presenting the perfect solution. His parents didn’t live far away, so it wasn’t like anyone would have to pick her up from the airport. She didn’t know anyone in the family but Foster and Maddie, but she liked both of them well enough. And, to be honest, she was pretty curious about their parents: How could two people produce such different offspring?
It wasn’t like with her and her sisters. She was the only one who was different; all the rest of them were cut from the same cloth. But Foster was competitive and argumentative and a genius. Maddie was like a little foal learning to stand on shaky legs but with a sassy mouth and the ability to cry on command.
It would be really interesting to see their home life. It would be like a sociological expedition. With turkey.
Did she really need to justify it with fake science? She’d always wanted to go to a traditional family Thanksgiving; Foster was handing her the opportunity on a silver platter. Why not take it?
So far she’d taken everything he’d offered—sex, mostly—and it hadn’t been all bad. In fact, it had been quite good. Not even quite good. A-plus work. She was beginning to suspect Foster was a sex genius.
Hmm. Would she make an exception to her no-genius rule for a sex genius? It was purely hypothetical of course, because Foster failed in so many other categories of her requirements for her perfect life mate.
“Hello? Becky?”
Right. Foster was sitting in front of her while she inner monologued.
“I don’t have Thanksgiving plans, you’re right. But I can’t just show up at your parents’ house, can I?”
“You won’t just show up. You’ll be with me.”
“As your date. Won’t they be curious where I came from? Oh, can we create a complicated backstory?”
“If you want to. Or you can just be Becky.”
“You’re right. And Maddie will be there, right? So I probably can’t pretend to be a refugee from another planet.”
“That’s your backstory?”
“But Maddie will know I’m not a real date. And, wait a second, who brings a date to Thanksgiving? I’ve never heard of that before.”
“My family is weird.”
“I don’t want weird Thanksgiving. If I wanted weird Thanksgiving, I’d stay home.”
He sighed. She felt a victory coming on.
“My mother wants to invite every single daughter of every single one of her friends. Apparently, I’m a catch.”
Becky snorted. He ignored her.
“I’m not really interested in dating a girl who wants to stay in Denver forever and never leave the neighborhood she grew up in, you know?”
“And that’s what all your mother’s friends’ daughters are? Gosh, you really seem to know them well.”
“No, I said that badly. I just . . . I don’t want to be set up by my mother. She wants me to get serious and settle down. She thinks introducing me to lots of women she approves of will make me see that she’s right.”
“So I’m not the kind of woman your mother would approve of?”
“That’s not what I mean. I just mean that I already know you and I know spending an afternoon with you won’t be torture.”
“Thanks?”
“I figure it’s a win-win. I’ll get my mother off my back for at least one day, you’ll get to have a big ol’ American Thanksgiving.”
He had a good point. But she didn’t want to seem too eager. Besides, a pretend date seemed dangerous to her. She wasn’t sure how. She was in no danger from this guy who was everything she didn’t want. He was a lawyer, a genius, and had just admitted to her that he didn’t want to settle down. This guy wasn’t going to give her the white picket fence of her dreams.
“And you owe me.”
And there was that ol’ superior look. She was in no danger at all.
Well, he was right. When he’d adopted Starr, both she and Maddie had promised him a favor.
And here was her opportunity to pay her debt. To pay her debt and get the Thanksgiving she’d always wanted.
“Will there be turkey?”
“At Thanksgiving? Of course.”
“And stuffing and mashed potatoes and pumpkin pie?”
“Yes. All the normal Thanksgiving stuff.”
“And family recipes passed down for generations?”
“Well, no. It’s catered.”
“Catered Thanksgiving?” That seemed sacrilegious.
“It’s too much work, cooking for forty people.”
“Oh. That’s a lot of food.” Forty people? A gigantic Thanksgiving! “Are they all family?”
“Mostly. My two uncles and their kids and grandkids, some random cousins I see once a year. There are usually a few clients my dad wants to impress. Oh, the neighbors have been coming for the past few years. And then a few of my mom’s friends and their single daughters.”
A traditional, gigantic Thanksgiving with lots of family and friends. It sounded perfect.
And she did owe him a favor.
And, by posing as his date, she would be doing him a huge favor. Not as huge as adopting a dog he didn’t think he wanted, but still . . .
She could pretend to be his date.
What was the worst that could happen?
She could make a fool of herself. As the date of an eligible bachelor, she’d be under pretty serious scrutiny. She’d have to do everything right. And his family . . . from what she knew about the Deacons, this was probably going to be a pretty formal affair. What would she wear? She’d have to study up on forks...
“Becky.” He put his hand on her arm and she felt the tension seep out of her. “You don’t have anything to worry about. I just need a warm body. Nobody’s actually going to pay any attention to you.”
She was sure that comment was designed to make her feel better. And it did, in a way. She’d get the Thanksgiving she wanted and she wouldn’t have to worry about performing well. Foster was such an asshole, he didn’t deserve it. And she’d fulfill her obligation to him, so she could be free and clear of him.
“I’m not worried. What time will you pick me up?”