Fake Summer Wife

“I haven’t been here in years,” Vaughan said with a smile that showcased his perfect teeth. “Mom and Dad used to bring me here once or twice every summer.”

“Why don’t the three of you come anymore?” I asked.

“Mom always had her heart set on living on the beach in Florida, so they retired there a year and a half ago.”

“Oh. Well, that’s nice too, I guess.”

Vaughan’s hand reached to cover mine on the table. “I really appreciate you coming to this event, Claudia. I hope you realize that I’d been trying to figure out a way to ask you out before the guys piped up.”

I snickered. “But you wanted to make sure that the burger was fabulous first, right?”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “I just didn’t want to be one of those guys who tries to pick up the server. I know It must happen to you twenty times a night.”

I shook my head. “Nope. Not even close.”

“Good,” he grinned. “That means not many single men come into your work. That makes me feel a lot better.”

Was he a tiny bit jealous already? Possessive? I don’t know why, but that made my stomach flutter.

“So,” I said, retracting my hand to nervously tuck my hair behind my ears. “How do you want to play this fake marriage thing?”

His eyes sparkled. “As much as we can base in truth, the better. How long have you worked at the diner?”

“It’s always been part time, but just over a year.”

“Perfect. I met you there about a year ago, and six months ago finally asked you out. We dated for two months, then got engaged, and were married a month later. How does that sound?”

My eyebrow raised as I looked at him. “That’s awfully quick, mister. Am I that kind of girl?”

“We couldn’t help ourselves,” he said, as his fingertips tucked my hair behind my ear again for good measure, smiling. “I wanted you to move in with me because I wanted to see you all day, every day. You didn’t want to move in without a commitment. So I surprised you with a ring, and you surprised me with the perfect wedding idea.”

“Perfect,” I said. “Super romantic without being ludicrously over the top.”

Vaughan’s amused smile suddenly dropped. “A few coworkers and clients have been to my house. Jessica has, too. Are you free Friday night?”

Good grief. I finally get asked out for a Friday night date, and it’s to do reconnaissance for a semi-fake date mission.

“We close at ten on Fridays.”

“Will you come to my house, and look around?” he asked. “We can make up some stories of how you’ve tried to change me by fixing my terrible taste in lamps.”

I realized with delight that I’d never once had to force laughter with him. Normally with customers, and other strangers, I tried to laugh a lot to cover my nerves. With Vaughan, I was almost totally myself.

“Sure. How many houseplants do you have?”

He hung his head in shame, causing his hair to flop across his forehead. “None.”

“Well, you have until Friday to add at least five: for the kitchen, dining room, and living room.”

“Yes, dear.”

Even though he was teasing, I loved how sweet he was.

Our food arrived, and as we ate we tried to figure out how many favorite TV shows, movies, and bands we had in common. The number surprised us both. We had very similar taste in both police dramas and bizarre British comedies. I loved that he enjoyed documentaries as much as I did, and that he went out to see indie bands now and then.

“What are you taking at school?” he asked, as he munched on a skewer of barbecued fruit.

“Public Relations.”