Bad Attitude - A Fake Fiance Romance

With another sip of hot chocolate, I told myself that agreeing to be his date for the wedding was just a good idea for me. It would help me come out of my shell more and practice talking to people. That was all it was, a way to make friends — not a way to get closer to the gorgeous billionaire.

To get my mind off my embarrassment, I decided to bake the cookies we had talked about the night before: Chocolate chip. It might be a minority opinion, but I honestly believed that cookies were truly the language of love.

I looked through my archives, piles upon piles of notebooks kept in the pantry, to find just the right recipe. They were all good, many of them having been in my family since the days of my great grandmother, but I really wanted to do something special for Liam.

I had woken up several hours before work, partly on account of the headache, so I had time to bake from scratch, which was always preferable. It always felt more heartfelt. I gave a moment’s thought to actually shaping the cookies like little hearts but decided better of it. That would look too childish.

After getting the warm cookies onto a plate, I checked on Jacob one more time and then went down to the corner to wait.

Last night, Liam and I had talked about how to make this fake engagement believable. We thought it would be a good idea to spend some time together to get to know each other, and Liam said he would drive me to work and pick me up today. I jumped at the chance and was already excited about the time we were going to be spending together. I only hoped there would be a traffic jam on the way to the office.

Right on time, his big black Hummer — that I doubted was compensating for anything-pulled up to the curb outside my building, somehow finding a spot. Parking tends to be at a premium; none of the buildings in the surrounding area having their own parking.

“Well, hello, pretty lady,” he said from the driver’s side.

“Greetings, kind sir,” I replied, ignoring my blush. “Would you like to try a cookie?”

Liam laughed, but he did take the biggest cookie on the plate. “These are delicious,” he mumbled. “Maybe they will make me fall in love with you.”

I knew he was kidding, but the comment made me smile.

Maybe this business arrangement would turn out to be fun.

Chapter Nine

Liam

On the ride to her office, Hayley and I had covered the basics: favorite colors, foods, etc. It had gone well, and the arrangement was starting to be enjoyable. Once she warmed up, Hayley was quite pleasant. She would get excited about the littlest thing, like us sharing a love for the color green, and her intensity of emotion was infectious. I found myself smiling more on that short trip than I had in months.

The ride after work was just as enjoyable, so when she asked me to come in, I couldn’t turn down the offer.

“Shit, I didn’t even think about the stairs,” Hayley said when we were halfway up. “It’s okay, I can do it,” I said, clutching onto the railing.

The fact was I could do it. Almost without pain even. I had certainly been through a lot worse, and to be fair, part of me knew that the trip upstairs would be worth it.

We were on our way through the entryway into the kitchen, where Hayley was going to make us some tea when I saw him in the living room. Like a ghost, he was pale. He had the same blonde hair as Hayley. The face was similar too: round with distant blue eyes. The man didn’t turn when we came in. He didn’t acknowledge our presence at all. He just sat and stared at the TV.

Suddenly I understood why Hayley seemed to be working so hard for Ann.

“His name is Jacob,” Hayley said, noticing me noticing.

“He was a soldier?” I asked, spying the picture on the mantle of Jacob in uniform.

“Yeah.”

“Iraq?” I asked.

“How -”

“Desert print.” I nodded to the photo. “He’s too young for Desert Storm, so I assume it was the current one.”

“Amazing,” Hayley breathed.

“Logical,” I corrected, not taking my eye away from Jacob and his hundred-yard stare. “He has -”

“PTSD,” I finished, knowing the symptoms when I saw them.

“Yeah, how did –”

“Experience.”

“Oh, right.”

“I think I can help,” I told her, leading her back towards the kitchen.

“I don’t see how, I’ve tried everything I can think of,” she said, leaning against the wall. “I have connections to some really good PTSD therapists. Some of the guys in my unit needed help after we got back, I’ll see if I can set something up for your brother.”

“Thank you,” Hayley said, kissing me on the cheek.