“I do owe you one, though,” Emily says, meaning the explanation. “I’m sorry. My ex was…he refused to leave. He made me come outside, and it was…well, you can imagine how it went. He said I would never be able to find someone since I’m apparently very under par, even though I was his one and only, the love of his life, and all that crap when he was living here. I was also funding his life, but anyway. I don’t have a temper, but I saw red, and I just…I wanted to prove him wrong. This was also after he cheated on me by banging some stranger on my kitchen table, so it added uh…fuel to the fire.”
Her face flames a shade to match her hair as she turns to look at the vacant spot in the kitchen.
I let out a sigh of relief when I realize what the ax was for. And the fire. She bought an ax, chopped up her kitchen table, took it outside, and burned it. That’s not crazy. In fact, that’s worthy of applause. And completely understandable.
What is not understandable is the wild urge I have to find her ex and tear him a new asshole. With the said ax.
I remember why I’m really here when Emily’s gaze settles back on me. I feel my own ax growing firm—what?—in my jeans, so I shift my leg back down and slam my hands over my lap to hide it. It wasn’t the reaction I was expecting, and I’m momentarily speechless.
“Dating,” I blurt out like an idiot, and Emily’s eyes get even wider. “I…when you kissed me, there were some media dogs there. They took some photos, and now it’s everywhere. My granny…” Talking about being whipped by one’s granny is enough to wilt anyone’s, erm, excitement, so I subtly remove my hands from my lap. As they’re quite damp from nervous sweating, I rub them down the length of my jeans. “My granny isn’t pleased because she’s tired of all the trouble I’ve caused her over the years. I promised her I’d behave, and this was one time where it wasn’t my fault. I want to…to make the world believe that this wasn’t, isn’t, me being, uh, me, so I’ve invented a story, and I want you to play along.”
“P…play along?”
“I can offer you an incentive. The story would be that we met before. I came to take a look at the company before my granny purchased it or something, and we fell deeply and instantly in love, but we wanted to keep a low profile because neither of us wanted the media attention. We dated secretly for the past six months, and now, this is the real reason I’m here. Because I couldn’t stay away. I wanted to be at your side. I can’t keep my hands off of you, clearly, and those photos were a private moment of joyful reunion that happened to be captured and splashed around all over the place. If we fake date for a few months, it should satisfy the media, and everyone will just move on and leave us alone. I’ll go back to doing what I was doing, and you’ll go back to, uh, well, your own life.”
“Except we work together, and you’re my boss. How would that not be as awkward as a trash fire getting out of control in my backyard and burning down my fence?”
I barely suppress a grin at her description, and I don’t have to look out the window to see that she’s in some serious trouble. “It wouldn’t be.”
“I just broke up with someone who I dated for years. I was even engaged to him. That would mean, if your story is true, I was cheating on him for six months. I can’t do that. He’s an asshole, but I just can’t.”
I think the guy deserves more than that. He deserves to be castrated with that ax in the kitchen, but I keep this tidbit to myself. “Fine. We’ll figure something else out. Maybe we just met, and it was love at first sight. We’ll date for a few months, everyone will move on, and then we’ll quietly break up. No one will even notice because no one will be paying attention.”
Emily huffs. She looks stunning when she blows hair out of her eyes and when her jaw sets in a determined line. “Except all my family and friends.”
“They could know the truth. The people you trust.”
She blinks. “Why would I do that? It’s dishonest, and it’s bound to be a mess. I think it could blow up in our faces. You’re the one who made yourself a bad reputation. You should unmake it. By yourself.”
I turn my attention to the backyard. “Rebuilding that fence isn’t going to be cheap. If your smoke damaged your neighbor’s house, that’s going to cost you. They probably gave you a fine too. Or something.”