The Fake Engagement

“Did I catch you at a bad time?” she asked.

“No. I finished my workout. I’m enjoying my cool down. Can I interest you in some water?”

“Sure. A water would be great.” Anything to prolong this torture and lengthen out her nerves.

She followed him into his kitchen, and again, it screamed bachelor. It was so neat.

Back at her own place, they had a clean apartment, but they also lived.

The kitchen counters back at her place had a mixer, blender, and food processor. When Juliet went on a baking binge, she went at it hard. Their cupboards were stocked with all kinds of baking and cooking ingredients. Different chocolate chips and spices. Juliet liked variety, and she was one hell of a good cook. None of them had any complaints about her cooking.

Eliza cooked well herself, but not on the same scale as Juliet.

Mackenzie was banned from the kitchen. That girl couldn’t even cook toast, she was that bad at it. The one time they had let her cook, they had ended up with food poisoning.

“Water or a coffee?” Preston asked.

“A water is fine.”

He opened his fridge, and again, everything was neat. Her fridge looked like a bomb had gone off, and she wasn’t embarrassed by that either.

She lived in her place, whereas it looked like Preston simply existed. It was rather sad.

He unscrewed the lid of his water and took several large gulps. She couldn’t help but watch him. All the while, she sipped at her water. He finished the bottle, turned toward his cupboard, and put the bottle in recycling, and the cap into the trash.

“These rules,” he said. “What are they?”

“Well, first, I think we kind of need to create a backstory, don’t you?” she asked.

“Nope. You work for me. We’re together for long hours. I think it tells itself.”

“Okay, fine. Well, I don’t want us to have any kind of story. We don’t need anything that will trip us up. We stick to facts. I work for you. The closeness and stuff like that.”

She pulled out her notebook from her bag, where she’d written down some of their potential questions.

“What made you fall for me?” she asked.

“These are not rules.”

“Your family is going to have questions. We’re going to need to come up with the good details so our stories are straight.”

“Look, Eliza, you are overthinking all of this. We’re going to see my parents, not be interviewed by the FBI. We’re not aliens.”

She rolled her eyes. “That is easier for you to say, but I want to cover all of my bases, and you’re making this very difficult for me.”

“Our engagement is new, and we’re working our way through everything else. Move on. What else do you have a problem with?” he asked.

“Okay, fine. Touching. I will accept a touch on the hand, and maybe a couple of hair tucks behind my ear, but nothing else. You do not need to grab my ass, and we don’t need to full-on hug. I will stand close to your side, and you can put your hand on my hip. Nothing else.”

“Wow, okay. You do realize we’ve got to be human here and not robots?” he asked.

“Duh, yeah. Of course, I know that.”

****

Preston expected her to be done with the touching limits, but nope. He should have known Eliza wasn’t going to be easily fooled. She drew a diagram of the female form, complete with breasts and a vagina. Where she marked on each part of her that was acceptable.

“I hope you understand I’m not going to be able to remember all of this.”

“Yes, you will. I’ve seen how you are in the office. This is a piece of cake compared to all of that. Believe me, you can handle anything.”

It was strange for him to feel a little more confident with her feelings about him. There was no doubt at all, no hesitation. She knew he’d be able to remember.

“Okay, so we’ve handled touching. Now let’s get down to the kissing,” she said, pushing some of her blonde hair out of the way. “No tongue. That is a strict policy for me.”

“No tongue?”

“You got it.”

He frowned. “But what if certain functions require tongue?”

She chuckled. “Mr. Boone, what kind of circumstances could possibly require tongue? There are none that come to mind.”

He sighed. “This has got to be believable in front of my parents. They’ve been in love with each other since the time they were ten. They’re not going to believe a peck on the cheek constitutes a marriage proposal.”

Eliza pressed her lips together as she stared down at her notebook. “Fine. Fine. Of course. Still, no tongue. We can kiss and make it look real to your family. That’s more than fine.”

“What about my hands at this point? Will they be allowed to sink into your hair?”

“Absolutely not. You will keep them on my waist at all times.”