Zara’s arms dropped to her sides and she stood rooted to her spot on the floor with her eyes so wide she might’ve strained a muscle. “Is that what I think it is?”
Hunter dangled the baggie from his fingertips. “I never lie. Does it fit?” He passed by, but I snagged the bag from his hand.
“Wait just a minute. Before you slip this on your finger, I’m going to need a proposal to make it official.” The warm fuzzy feelings had to go. Once we pulled everything off, I’d be stealing this account from her and leaving it gift wrapped for Sam. The last thing I needed was for feelings to get involved, and what better way to stop that than keep her pissed off at me?
“What?” Volleyed back and forth throughout the living room.
“Zara has asked me to shoulder the burden of playing her fiancé.”
Her scowl deepened and her foot beat out a rhythmic pattern of annoyance.
“It’s only fair she asks me.” I put on my best innocent face. “Unless you want to tell Kathleen it was all a big misunderstanding.”
With muscles tense and tight, she stared at me before crossing the room to me in two strides. “You want me to propose to you?”
“It’ll make a wonderful story to tell if anyone asks. Or we can call the whole thing off and confess, but you’re the one who led us down this path with the relationship talk. Kathleen would probably kick us off the project. Or maybe just you.”
Her gaze narrowed. “Just when I think you’re not a complete asshole. Fine.” The word shot out like a nail gun. Covering her mouth, she mumbled into her hand. “Will you pretend to be my fake fiancé for the next thirty days?”
I cupped my hand around my ear. “That wasn’t exactly romantic and you’re not even on bended knee. Boyz II Men would be disappointed.” I dangled the ring in front of her.
She squeezed her forehead and snatched the baggie out of my hand.
I braced myself for her to fling it straight into my face, but she didn’t. Hiking up the skirt of her suit an inch, she lowered herself to the floor with her gaze trained on mine. The intensity of her emerald gaze sent my blood thrumming through my veins. Her thick eyelashes framed her eyes and the ill wishes she was trying to sear into my brain.
But damn if her sinking to her knees in front of me didn’t flash me into a whole different set of circumstances with her where she wasn’t wishing me dead and I wasn’t trying to steal this project out from under her.
“Leo—”
“Elizabeth Wilder,” Everest supplied from the cheap seats.
Zara’s head whipped to his and back to mine. “Your middle name is Elizabeth?”
“No, Everest thinks he’s a comedian, but he’s actually an idiot. It’s Charles. Continue.” I waved her forward.
“Leo Charles Wilder, will you please agree to be my fake fiancé for the next thirty days and make me the most miserable woman on earth?” She held out the ring in her palm.
I tapped my finger against my lips and stared up at the ceiling. “When you put it like that…” I took the ring and held it between my thumb and pointer finger. “Yes, I will, and I can’t wait to fulfill those vows.” I slipped the ring on her finger. There was a smattering of applause and Teresa jumped up and down in her seat.
Jameson’s mom came back toweling off her dripping hair. “What did I miss?”
Teresa clapped her hands together. “Leo and Zara are getting married.”
After a quick recap of our non- engagement, we sang Happy Birthday to Teresa. She beamed and wiggled in her seat, soaking up all the attention.
We picked at our cake, already having had our fill during the construction and decoration portion of the day, but Jameson’s mom wouldn’t let us leave without a slab of cake wrapped up to take home.
“This was the best party ever. I want you to make my cake every year.”
Jameson, Everest, and August twitched like an old war memory came rushing back. Hunter laughed at everyone’s expression. Jameson, ever the dutiful older brother, crouched down beside Teresa.
“You got it, Tree.”
We said our goodbyes, thanked Hunter again for his magic-making with getting us the ring, and headed out.
The car ride back to the city was quiet, but not with the tension that had blanketed it earlier. It was more of an exhausted sugar coma than blistering anger.
“Your friends are nice. Did you all grow up together?” Zara rested her head on her hand propped up against the window.
“August and I were friends from the third grade. Jameson transferred into our school in seventh grade. Then Jameson and August went off to college and ended up with Everest as a roommate. Hunter roomed with them their junior year, I think.”
“So, Mr. Commitment is your oldest friend?”
“Mr. Commitment?”
“The one who looked at the ring like I was wearing a cockroach.”
“August has a history when it comes to commitment.”
“So I was right.”
“You weren’t wrong.”
That sent her deep into thought for a while. She stared out the window, watching the city grow bigger as we crossed the bridge.
I pulled up outside Zara’s apartment building, not sure how to move forward with our partial truce.
She opened her door. “Thanks for the ride.”
“After a mild kidnapping, I figured I owed you. My day is open tomorrow. We can start as early as you want.”
“Once I stop by my office, I’ll meet you at Stark by eleven.”
“See you, Zara.”
“Bye, Leo.”
“No kiss for your fiancé?”
She froze halfway out the door. “Not on your life. Not a kiss. Not an ass grab. None of that. Thanks for the reminder. Tomorrow, we can go over a few ground rules.”
The door slammed.
I pulled away from the curb unable to hold back my grin. The game play had been kicked up a notch. And my skills extended far beyond the field. You’ve made your play, Zara, now it’s time to make mine.
13
Zara
And now I was ready to kill him again. Not that I hadn’t ever fully not wanted to kill him. All those not-half-bad feelings had disintegrated after five cups of instant coffee. A wilted lettuce leaf from our lunch sandwiches sat abandoned at one end of the table, and my hair should have littered the floor from me ripping it out over the last six hours. The basics had been confirmed, now we needed to get the logistics of how we were running the day down.
My stomach rumbled. Tyler sent me a message about winter ski trip sign-ups. He’d tried to do it in his feeling-things-out, not-directly-asking way. I’d told him yes. He wasn’t going to be left behind. The string of emoji had made it worth it, and I couldn’t let him down.
“Can you sit down, so we can talk about this?” I slapped my hand on the table.
He tossed the football from hand to hand, pacing in his favorite ‘I’m about to come up with something absolutely insane’ thinking exercise. “S’mores. Didn’t you love doing that at camp?”
Camp. I’d spent my summers taking Tyler to the library to get out of the house before swinging by our school to pick up the lunches they provided to all the free lunch kids when schools were out.