Piper

It feels great to finally be off the clock. My holiday has officially begun.

Four days free from work and two of those precious babies have to be spent with my family.

Dropping my satchel on the table, I make my way to the kitchen, pulling down a glass bowl and a box of popcorn.

While it pops, I head for the landline phone. The red light is blinking, which can only mean one thing: Mom called.

She only calls my house phone. She obviously has no idea what a cellphone is used for. That woman needs to get with the century.

I press the button and her obnoxious voice comes through.

“Piper! I’m so glad I called. So, Jansen just called about the shopping list and told me you are bringing someone with you! Would that someone finally be a man? Oh, Pipey, if it is, I am so happy for you! It’s great to finally hear some good news about you. What’s his name? His favorite wine or beer to drink? What does he like to eat? We can always have Jansen make a special meal for him if he’s allergic to anything. Does he like sweet potato casserole? Oh, and don’t bring any of that silly popcorn with you. Last time you stayed, it took hours for the maids to get the kernels and the smell out of the bedroom. It’s not good to eat late, you know? You have to take care of your body, Pipey—”

I roll my eyes and press the button, cutting her off midsentence. I refuse to deal with her before I have to.

The microwave beeps and I go back for it, dumping the popcorn in the bowl and sinking down on my suede recliner.

Matthew will be here in a few hours.

Fortunately the house is clean so I don’t have to worry or scramble to make it look nice.

The phone rings again and I let it go to voicemail. Of course it’s Mom again.

“Oh, Pipey! Are you in? If so, I also wanted to tell you that we are doing a white elephant exchange again! Make sure you buy something nice before you come. Something people might actually enjoy, you know? Call me back, if you can. I need to know if this friend you are bringing eats meat.”

“Meat? Seriously? What kind of man doesn’t eat meat?” I mutter.

I roll my eyes, digging into my popcorn, glad when her voice is finally done streaming.

I turn on the TV, tuning into reruns of Sex and the City to pass the time.

It isn’t until I’ve fallen asleep on the couch after the second episode, when I hear a knock on the door.

Startled, I spring up, but in the process I drop the entire bowl of cold popcorn on the floor. “Shit!”

Another knock.

“Uh—just a second! I have to—” I almost trip over the rug, but fortunately I catch myself. I sweep up the popcorn, dumping it into the bowl and then hurrying to dump it in the trash bin.

After I tidy up the living room a bit, straighten the magazines on the coffee table, I zoom for the door.

I swing it open and Matthew is standing there, his head in a slight tilt, and his eyes mellow. “Everything all right?” he asks. “Bad time?”

“No! Of course not.” I step back, inviting him in. “Please come in. I was just—well, I’ll be honest. I fell asleep and lost track of time.”

“Still tired?”

“Kinda. Worked late a lot this week.”

“Understandable. You edit for a magazine, right?” He glances over his shoulder as I shut the door behind me.

“Yep. Editor in Chief. I’m surprised you remember that.”

“I think that’s a cool job. It obviously pays well,” he says as he takes a look around my apartment. His eyes move from my suede, deep-cushioned love seat and recliner, to the hardwood floor with an accent blue, brown, and white vintage rug, and then my four-top table set by the wide, rectangular window.

“Great view,” he notes, gesturing to the towers and skyscrapers ahead.

“Thanks.” I watch as he walks around my place, looking at a few photos on the wall, the granite countertops in the kitchen, the notepad on my fridge with pointless reminders scribbled on it.

His eyes then drift over to the television and he points at it, smirking. “Sex and the City?”

I scratch my upper arm, a timid habit. “One of my favorite shows.”

“Hmm. Good to know.” He gestures to the couch with a bob of his head. “Do you mind if I sit?”

“Of course not.” I walk forward and move one of the pillows over. “Sit. Get comfortable. Would you like something to drink?”

“No, I should be okay for now. Don’t want to take up too much of your time.”

I sit in the recliner, picking up the remote control and muting the volume.

“So, how has your day been so far?” I ask, hoping to ward off the encroaching awkwardness.

“My day has been okay for the most part. How about yours?”

“Mine was pretty good. Got all of my work done at the office, came home and drowned in popcorn and reruns. Not too shabby.”

He finds that comical. I can tell by the way his face changes, how his eyes light up with humor. “Sounds like the perfect day.”

“Yeah.” I nod, looking from him to the TV. “Oh, I have my list!” I hop up, going for my bag on the table and digging it out. “I wrote some of it up last night but transferred it to a cleaner sheet of paper.”

He quirks a cheek and a brow, taking the unfolded paper from me. He reads over it, and when he comes across a note that stands out to him, a smile twitches at his lips.

He rakes his fingers through his hair. “How many times have you won a game of basketball against your brother Stanley?”

I grin. “Nine out of like one hundred games. We’ll probably play again over the weekend. It’s what we always do when we get together. We’re very competitive sometimes.”

“And he’s your favorite, but I shouldn’t hint at that?”

“Yeah, try not to let it be too obvious. I wrote it down so you’d know who I get along with most.”

“Who do you get along with the least?”

“Bailey…my second-oldest sister.”

“And why is that?”

“Because she thinks she’s better than everyone, especially me. Older siblings are annoying that way.”

“You are twenty-eight, correct?”

“Yes.”

“I turn twenty-nine tomorrow,” he says.

“Oh wow! We have to celebrate then! Maybe I’ll bake a cake or something!”

“Ha. You really don’t have to.” He scratches the tip of his nose with his thumb, dropping the paper on the coffee table.

“Come here,” he says as he sits back.

My brows draw together. “W-what?”

“Come here.”

“Why?”

“If we are going to do this, you have to be close. You have to get used to sitting beside me, not across the room. Distance won’t look good.” Amusement swirls deep in his eyes, the corners of his mouth tilting.

“You think they’ll notice that?”

“If you want them to believe that you actually enjoy having me for a ‘boyfriend’ or whatever you want me to be, you have to show it more than you actually say it. So, Piper, please. Come here.”

His eyes warm up, now swimming with a hint of fascination. I swallow thickly, standing slowly and making my way across the room to sit beside him on the loveseat.

He has his arm on the top of the sofa, and as I sit, I realize how wonderful he smells. Like a piney, winter forest and a mix of leather and sandalwood.

Strong and sweet.

Cool and refreshing.

Manly.

Matthew looks me over with hard, honey eyes, watching me slowly sit back and focus on the table.

“Piper,” he murmurs.

“Hmm?”

“Look at me.”

“I can’t. You’re making me really nervous,” I breathe, lifting my head but still keeping my eyes away from his.

“The sooner we get this over with, the better. You’ll be stuck with me for days. We’ll be side-by-side, glued, so close you’ll probably forget to breathe on your own at times. You’ll most likely have to share a bed with me to keep up appearances.”

My head jerks up and I finally look at him, but only for a second. Shit. I didn’t even think of that!

“Yeah,” he says quietly, as if he’s read my mind. He leans in closer, and my body feels like it’s on fire now. “Just relax,” he breathes. “Pretend I’m someone you’ve known for years, someone you’ve maybe had a slight crush on and are finally getting the chance to hang out with.”

“It’s been years since I’ve felt anything for anyone—much less, a crush.”

“That’s why we’re pretending.” When I don’t look at him, he tilts my chin, forcing my eyes on his. His warm irises consume my green, and I sigh, calming myself down at bit when I notice how relaxed he is.

In my home, he is relaxed. He feels welcomed and ready. Shouldn’t I feel the same?

“This is going to be hard,” I admit.

“Not really. Just let me ask the questions and you answer them. I will make it easy for you, I promise.” He drops his hands, his pink lips mashing together as he focuses on my face.

“So…if I decide to randomly hug you or cling to you…that’s okay?” I ask.

He laughs. “More than okay with me, Piper. I am yours for the weekend.” Mine? How does he make it sound so naughty and delicious?

“Should we pretend to argue—you know, like we’ve been dating forever?”

“That depends on you. If you decide to get upset about something, I’ll work with you—though I don’t think you want to leave that kind of impression on your parents the first time after what I’ve read on the paper.”

“About how I’m a disappointment to them?”

He nods slowly, pity masking his face.

“It’s a true statement. They don’t say it right to my face, but it’s obvious.”

“I’m not sure how it can be. You seem like a great girl with a good head on her shoulders.” He picks up the paper again and then sits back. As he reads, he says, “They expected you to be a doctor, a lawyer, or married to one?”

“Anyone that makes mega bucks,” I sigh.

“So…it’s a good thing I’m a dentist then?”

I nod eagerly. “It’s a great occupation. Dentists make pretty good money.”

“And how long have we been dating? We should set a number.”

“Right…um…let’s say for eight months. That’s a good timeframe, right? Not too long or too short?”

“Eight is perfect. So, tell me about your mother. What should I know about her?”

“Well, like I said before, she can be very overbearing. She’s quick to judge and not so easy to forgive or forget so don’t get on her bad side. Bailey is the same way. She’ll pick a fight just to win it or feel superior so if you feel an argument coming on, avoid it and run like hell.”

“Okay.” He makes a mental note of that, nodding his head. “And your father?”

“He’s a bit more laid back than Mom, but he’s a grumbler. I find it easier sometimes to talk to him than her, but I don’t tell him much about my personal life because he always runs his mouth to her about things I don’t want her to know. He likes to drink—no surprise there—so if he offers a scotch at, like, ten in the morning or something, just say yes and drink it. You’ll probably win some brownie points there. He doesn’t like to feel as if he’s the old man with a glass always in his hand... even though he is.”

“Is he anything like your brother Stanley?”

“Stanley gets more of his characteristics from Dad, yes. They are calmer, funnier, and know how to make a good time out of doing nothing. My mom, Bailey, and Lena—they are the ones I’m worried about. Very high maintenance. They ask a lot of questions, they turn their noses up at the smallest of things. They can be prudes—they hardly drink and if they do it’s a small glass of really bitter wine. Oh, and Lena has two kids, Joey and Jana. They are twins and they remind me of the Sour Patch Kids. Sour then sweet, you know? Sometimes I want to give them a swat or two because they always break or rip something of mine, but then they’ll smile and hug me and everything is all better.”

“How old are the twins?”

“Seven.”

“Old enough to know better,” he states, one brow cocked.

“Exactly!”

“Lena is married?”

“Yes. Her husband most likely won’t be there though. He’s in the Army. His name is Dexter.”

“Got it.”

“And then there’s Monty. He’s the youngest of all of us. Seventeen, actually. He’s pursuing the dream of becoming a rock star, but he has his issues. He’s another one my parents consider a disappointment. He’s really easy to get along with, but, if he’s there, you may want to hide your expensive stuff. We caught him stealing from Mom’s jewelry box last year and another time from Stanley’s suitcase. It wasn’t a fun year.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

I wave a hand, shrugging it off. “Don’t be. As you can see my family is a bit dysfunctional, but they are family. We’re not perfect.”

He looks me over. “If you ask me, it seems you and Stanley are the most normal and selfless of them all. Maybe that’s why you two get along so well.”

“Sometimes.” I chew on my bottom lip. “But Stanley can get annoying and he likes to pry too.” I pause. “He…lost his wife two years ago. Car accident.”

“Oh.” His face changes, his smile fading immediately.

“He’s sadder than he used to be, but he still likes to have a good time. Just…try not to mention anything about love or relationships to him, you know? We try to steer clear of that. He hasn’t completely healed and he’s not ready to move on yet, so we like to act as if it never happened—unless he wants to talk about it.”

“Does he talk about it with you?”

“Every time he calls.”

“And what about with your parents?”

“Hardly ever,” I murmur.

“Oh. Again, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay.” I turn to face him, tucking my hair behind my ears. “I bet you’re ready to bail, huh?”

He grins, head shaking as he drops the paper. “Not at all. I’ve learned a lot about you and your family already and it hasn’t even been an hour. I guess we don’t need this paper then, huh?”

“I guess not.” I smile up at him. “So, I’ll say you’re a dentist, that you like to draw comics to pass time, and you own a private jet.”

He busts out laughing, sitting forward. “Do I now? Since when have I owned a jet?”

“Since, like, years ago,” I tease.

“If you’d like me to have a jet, that’s cool. I’ll Google some pictures, save them, pretend it’s mine.” He fights a smile, revealing a dimple.

“Nah. Jets are overrated. Let’s keep this as honest as possible. It’ll be easier to keep up with answers and what not.”

“I think that’s a great idea,” Matthew says. “See! This was a good idea, me coming over.”

“I guess so. It’s just…well, the last guy I had in my place didn’t want to come over again after the first time. Like I said, guys are assholes. He told me he couldn’t see himself with me. Not sure what made him think that, and it’s water under the bridge now, but...well, never mind. It was months ago.” I look up at him, watching as he nods his head in understanding. “You don’t talk much, huh?”

“I like to listen. I learn a lot that way.”

“I’m rambling—probably talking your damn head off.” I huff a laugh. “Sorry.”

“Not at all. Don’t apologize. I like your voice.”

My heart catches speed. “You know, you don’t make it hard to like you. You always know exactly what to say.”

I can tell my comments get into his head. He sits up straight, looking me in the eyes. “I’m a firm believer in having respect for women. Women are beautiful in a lot of ways, and some men don’t appreciate that. Every woman wants to be heard, adored, and respected. Even when she pretends she doesn’t need it, I know she does.” He runs his eyes down my body. “You think men don’t see you. I can tell. You’re one of those women who thinks she’s looked over for being herself and not looking like everyone else, but I see you. I see a lot of things in you, Piper—qualities that a man would kill to have in a woman.”

“Qualities like what?” I’m afraid to even ask, but I want to know.

“Kindness, playfulness, how naive you are. There’s something about having that innocence…” His teeth catch his bottom lip and he drags it through until it’s set free again. “You don’t even realize how stunning you are because you’re too afraid to look at yourself. Just because some of the people you love don’t respect you as much as you’d like them to, doesn’t mean someone else won’t. You should keep that in mind.”

I blink rapidly. “Yeah,” I breathe. “I should.”

His eyes avert to the telephone. He’s most likely caught sight of the blinking light. “Voicemails?”

“From my mom,” I groan.

He stands, walking around the sofa to get closer. “Do you mind if I take a listen?”

“Sure. But don’t go barreling out when you hear her,” I joke, standing with him.

He presses the speakerphone button on the receiver, and when Mom’s voice fills my apartment, I have the urge to run to my bedroom and hide my head under the pillows.

He listens to both messages, and when they are over, he turns to look at me, eyes wide, and a smile on his lips.

“Wow,” he says, trying his hardest not to laugh. “You weren’t kidding!”

“I told you!” I cup my face and grin. “She is so extra and for no reason.”

“Well, if it makes any difference, I love sweet potato casserole.”

“I will definitely let her know that.”

“Funny thing is, I’ve been through a similar situation like this with a past client, but it only lasted a few hours. I’m pretty sure I can handle it, though. It will take a lot of patience, but I can do it.”

“Patience is key,” I inform him. “I need mega-doses of it while I’m around her. If only it were a real prescription.”

Matthew walks toward me, nodding with his lips tipped up. When he is less than two steps away from me, he says, “Don’t worry.” His hands cap my shoulders. “Your mother will think we are great together. As long as you make this easy on me, we’ll get through this weekend. Hopefully she’ll get off your back about a lot of things, as well.”

“She and Bailey think I’m lesbian,” I blurt out with a snigger.

He releases me, eyebrows raised. “Do they really?”

“I don’t think they believe it, but Bailey always tries to put that idea in Mom’s head.” I roll my eyes at the thought of Bailey.

“You are one interesting client, Piper Madison.”

“And you are one hell of an escort for sticking this thing out with me, Matthew Cooper. The fact that you’re still ready to tackle this after all I’ve told you surprises the hell out of me.”

“Hey,” he says. “It’s what you need me for, right? I’m here to help as much as I can.” He sits back down on the sofa. “Now, tell me what our favorite wine should be. I have a feeling we will be needing lots of it to get through this holiday.”

I watch his arm go on top of the sofa and I can’t help my smile.

This guy is great. Seriously. Too great.

With him at my side, I know I can get through this.

My family won’t hound me like a pack of hungry wolves. They will have to admire him because I’m admiring the hell out of him already.

He is wonderful at his job. Spectacular, really.

As I sit beside him and tell him about the Stella Rosa wine I just so happen to adore, I can only wonder one small thing.

Why in the hell didn’t I think of hiring him sooner?