Page 14 of He Falls First

This feels thrillingly mischievous. I get the feeling Allison would approve of the chaotic nature of it all.

“Ah, Hendrix, now I see why you had to uproot your life to Sacramento,” Mr. Cromwell says with a chuckle. “A demanding fiancée can have that effect.”

There’s something like annoyance in Hendrix’s eyes. He clears his throat, turning back to face Cromwell, who watches us with fascination.

“Elizabeth and I have been acquainted for years,” Hendrix fabricates smoothly, “but our engagement is more recent. I didn’t ‘have to’ move to Sacramento—it was the right move at the right time.”

He’s so sure of himself, for a man who’s making this up as he goes along. At this point, I’d like to sit back and eat some popcorn as I learn the details of my own relationship.

“Let me be clear, Mr. Cromwell,” Hendrix continues, a hint of steel underlying his calm demeanor. “I’m not here because Elizabeth is demanding. The love I feel for Elizabeth is profound. It’s no wonder she’s at the center of everything I do.”

Geez Louise. I swear the temperature just ticked up a few degrees. Hendrix has turned to look at me and it’s like his words just poured into the space around us and became truth. For a moment, I’m completely inside the fantasy, with no question that it’s reality.

And I feel strangely proud as Hendrix claims me. Declares a love for me so profound, he just can’t help being near me.

Does this count as a “He Falls First” situation?

I sure wish it could. Allison and Cora would be proud of how quickly I’ve nailed this thing.

Chapter 6

Elizabeth

I’m nervous. Matt’s nervous. The floor beneath Matt should be nervous, because it looks like he’s set to wear a hole in the carpet at the rate he’s pacing around Hendrix’s office.

But Hendrix himself, the man who got us into this nerve-wracking mess, looks cool as a billion-dollar cucumber, sitting behind his desk with his hands steepled in front of him.

They wrapped up the meeting pretty soon after Hendrix’s big engagement announcement, Mr. Cromwell and his associates more than eager to stop taking up any more of his time now that they know he’s got a new company to settle into and a wedding to plan. Everyone shook my hand and congratulated me on the way out, treating me a lot more like a human being than they had just a few minutes before, when they’d only seen me as a lowly assistant.

They still didn’t treat me with nearly as much respect as they showed Hendrix, though. I guess I’m only worth their time by association with the big man on top.

Matt finally manages to pause his pacing long enough to speak. “Hendrix. Dude. You can’t just—”

“Can and did,” Hendrix interrupts, his tone smooth and unfaltering. He leans back, fingers steepled, as if we’re discussing stock options instead of something as bizarre as my faux marital status.

“You want to tell me what that was all about, man?” Matt says.

Hendrix barely glances at him. “You know what it was about.”

“I know you want Cromwell to think you can fit into the traditional family image he loves so much,” Matt says.

“And an engagement is a perfect way to do that, don’t you think?” Hendrix shifts in his seat, his eyes narrowing like he’s honing in on an idea. “We don’t want Cromwell to think I’m out here living the life of a Lothario, do we?”

I’m on the edge of my seat, a silent observer to the verbal tennis match between Hendrix and Matt. I would hesitate to speak up in this situation, in the presence of two strong-willed men who seem to feel just fine about discussing this without me. But then I remember how I stood up for myself back in the boardroom. I practically made Hendrix grovel, fueled by the fire of the “He Falls First” pledge.

“Excuse me,” I say, drawing both men’s attention. “Mr. Hendrix, if I’m going to act like his bride, then you’d better start acting like I matter. I believe I’m owed an explanation first and foremost.”

“I told you you’d have to help keep this man in line!” Matt says, a shocked sort of laugh pushing through his lips. “This was not what I had in mind, though.”

“When did you decide to tell people we’re engaged?” I ask Hendrix.

His eyes widen, but he recovers quickly. “Honestly? About two and a half seconds before I did it,” he replies, deadpan, prompting Matt to smack his own forehead.

My eyebrows climb my face. “You realize engagements typically involve premeditation? Or at least the courtesy of informing the bride-to-be.”

“Typically, yes,” he concedes. His voice carries the weight of someone confessing they forgot to water the plants, not that they impulsively faked an engagement.

“But it’s done now, right?” I ask. “We don’t really have to pretend to be engaged?”

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