This meant more than tying it back in a ponytail or braiding it one way or the other.
Instead, I gave it volume, using product to define and separate my natural loose curls, and leaving it long.
Some nude-peach lip stain with gloss was a finishing touch.
And of course, my perfume, which was Bulgari, given to me originally by my father, but it was the perfect scent for me, so now I bought it for myself.
Last, a pair of high-ish-wedge-heeled, platform, cognac leather strapped sandals.
It was too much.
We were likely eating dinner on Rix’s deck again and watching TV.
Probably cuddling (could I cuddle in a short-ish skirt? Or even…should I?).
Yes, it was too much.
Even if it felt like we were dating, we weren’t.
Even if it hadn’t occurred to me once, not since that text exchange at Gal’s center, that this was pretend, it was.
I needed to clean my face.
And I needed to change.
Fortunately, I’d gotten this wild hair early, so I knew I had time to do both before I had to leave.
I walked out of the bathroom to go to the closet, my gaze going to my alarm clock on the nightstand just to be sure.
It was a fifteen-minute drive to Rix’s house.
I was supposed to be there at six.
It was five after five.
Yes.
I had plenty of time.
I just made it to my closet to assess a new outfit when my phone rang in the bathroom.
I had it silence all calls except people I knew, so I headed back to the bathroom to check it, because it was rare when someone called, but it was usually important.
The call was Rix.
My stomach dropped.
Oh no.
He’d only phoned me once, to ask me out to drinks to iron things out during that blip we’d had.
Now, maybe something came up.
And because of that something, maybe he was canceling.
I told myself I didn’t feel devastated by this as I nabbed my phone and took the call.
“Hey, everything okay?” I answered.
“Get your ass here. Now.”
At his tone as well as his command, I stared at my pedestal sink.
“Alexandra?” he growled.
Oh boy.
He didn’t call me Alexandra except on certain occasions, and those occasions were usually when he was being bossy.
And one could say he’d just been pretty freaking bossy.
“Is everything okay?” I asked hesitantly.
“Ass. Here. Now.”
And then he hung up.
Well one thing I knew about that.
I was going to have to go with this outfit.
Because apparently, I didn’t have time to change.
Chapter 12
The Drama
Alex
I didn’t take it as a good sign when I traversed the side path that led to his front steps that Rix was standing in his opened door, arms crossed on his massive chest, scowling at my approach.
On the drive there, belatedly, it occurred to me that an adjusted woman might be miffed at Rix’s Ass. Here. Now. demand. A dramatic woman might be gearing up to throw a tantrum. And an enlightened woman would be justifiably outraged.
I hadn’t settled on which one of those I was going to be (though, I’d tossed out drama, because I wasn’t a tantrum-throwing person).
Nevertheless, I knew it was going to be one of them.
I was less certain when I saw how visibly ticked he was.
In fact, I wasn’t even certain I wanted to finish walking up to his house.
What I was certain of was that I was not a child, and my future husband, fake or not, didn’t get to speak to me like I was.
It was on this thought I stopped on his porch, and therefore could ignore his eyes sweeping the length of me before coming back to my face, seeming even angrier than he was before I got close (and it was good I could ignore this, or it would have been a hit to my ego, which wasn’t very pronounced, but even I thought I looked cute in this dress), and I snapped, “What’s going on?”
His heavy brows twitched, that was all the indication given that he wasn’t a fan of my tone, but I read that indication, even before his rumbling-with-fury, normally-gravelly-but-now-it-was-a-veritable-quarry voice reverberated my way.
“You’ll reconsider that attitude, no matter how hot it is, especially it coming from you when you’re wearing that fucking dress and those goddamned shoes, when it hits you, like it hit me, that we work closely together. We spent nearly an entire goddamn week together. We’ve cooked together. We’ve cuddled in front of the TV together. We’ve even baked fucking cookies…” he seemed to lose it, bent slightly toward me, and snarled, “together.” He got a lock on it, and leaned back, finishing, “And nothing.”
“Nothing?” I asked.
He spoke no further words.
He dropped his arms, turned and prowled into his house, and I knew this was also a nonverbal command to follow him.
I took a moment to consider seizing that opportunity to leave and come back when he’d calmed down from whatever had peeved him.
I didn’t because I heard an impatient “Alexandra” barked from inside.
Oh no.
Unh-unh.
No way.
I stomped in after him.
“What?” I bit out, throwing the door closed behind me.
It didn’t slam, but it didn’t close gently.
Rix glowered at it, then glowered at me, then lifted his arm.
I noticed he had his TV remote in his hand.
So I looked to the TV.
On it was Elsa Cohen sitting in her signature mint-green velvet swivel chair, this particular episode, however, was paused.
She wasn’t paused for long.
Rix hit go, the segment started playing, and as it did, I stared in horror, not only at all that was pouring forth, but that some of it was news so fresh, they had pictures of Rix and me from Friday…yesterday…and that very morning.
How…
Incredibly…
Creepy.
“Oh my God,” I breathed.
When she was done, Rix paused her again, and slowly, cautiously, I turned my gaze to his.
“Needless to say,” he started ominously, “I was surprised when I got the phone call from my mother not too long ago, who is, by the way, beside her-fuckin’-self I’ve finally found someone worthy of me, telling me our asses are up in Flagstaff next weekend so she can cook for you—”
“Oh my God,” I repeated.
“—and I shouldn’t worry about driving back in the same day. She wants us up there the whole weekend. She was so excited, she was making plans as she was talking to me. She’s going to have Josh, Hailey and Kinsley over, for one. And she says we can sleep in my old room. Though, she did say she’d appreciate it if we didn’t get up to anything, and warned that if we needed space to do our thing, she’d ask some friends if we can stay in their cabin so we could have privacy. If not, we have to sleep in the basement.”
“Oh my God,” I gasped.
It was like I made no noise.
Rix kept speaking.
“Goes without saying she just can’t wait to meet you. She thinks you’re very pretty and it’s clear we’re the perfect match and she really likes that white top you wore on Friday and wants to know where you bought it. She also wants to know if you’ve met the queen.”