Page 6 of Stolen Kiss

“We’re getting married…next month.” I hesitate before adding that last part. I’m not sure why I feel the need to rush it, but Jim did say more than once that the Rawlston’s were big on a stable home life. I could’ve said in six months. Or even next spring. But I get the feeling if they don’t select me this time, I won’t have another opportunity.

“Congratulations! You must be so excited.”

Thrilled.

“I am.” Liar, liar.

“You’ll have to bring her by so we can meet her. Better yet, bring her to the company picnic. I almost forgot it’s in two weeks. My wife would enjoy having an extra set of hands. What’s her name?”

Name? Panic washes over me as I struggle to remember the name from the profile. Oh, shit! What the fuck is her name?

“Peyton. Her name is Peyton. I’ll run it by her and see what she says. She’s been so busy with her friends and wedding showers and cake tastings, it’s hard to know when she’s coming or going. Who knew so much went into planning a wedding, huh?” I brush my sweaty hands against the outside of my suit.

“I’m sure you’ve had your photographer reserved for a while now, but my wife does portraits in addition to her other paintings. You’ve got to let her do one for you,” Gary adds. “It’ll be the perfect addition to your living room. Or bedroom.”

By the time we’re done with the interview, I feel as though I’m carrying a barbell loaded with weights across my shoulders. I’ve never lied so many times in one setting. Ever.

I wasn’t even convinced I was going to go through with this whole hiring a wife shenanigan—I don’t care how much Jim paid for it—but it looks like I don’t have a choice.

Unless I withdraw my name from the list of candidates vying for CFO.

Jim would be disappointed if I did that and honestly, I would too.

Instead of waiting for the elevator, I take the stairs and rush to my office. I immediately lock the door then drop down onto the sofa. Ripping my jacket off, I fight with my tie until it’s hanging loosely around my neck. My breathing is labored and it wouldn’t surprise me if my heart didn’t explode in my chest.

Thump, thump, thump.

With my shoulders slumped, I lower my head to my chest. Please don’t let me regret this. Please don’t let this be a mistake that will haunt me the rest of my life.

I open my phone up to the details and other important information from the Wife for Hire Agency. Scrolling through Peyton’s information, I see that she noted she was perfectly fine with a wedding in the next couple of months. In fact, in the comments section, she included the sooner the better as she was enduring some financial difficulties. Unlike me, at least she was honest.

I select a time to meet with her, confirm it with the verification tool, then bury my phone underneath the sofa cushion. I have until Sunday at noon to change my mind.

Peyton

____________

The parking lot at Enrique’s is packed and I’ve circled it three times already, waiting for a spot to become available. I was a bit relieved when I discovered Jeremiah had chosen to come here instead of some upscale place where I probably couldn’t even pronounce most of what was on the menu. Not that I’m able to eat anything at the moment—my stomach is in knots—but it’s a decent place with a relaxing atmosphere.

Enrique’s is semi-casual, so I hope he doesn’t mind that I’ve opted for a tee-shirt dress and sandals. Anything fancier and I would’ve had to borrow something from Mariah.

Something borrowed, something blue…

My dress is almost the exact same shade of blue as my eyes and it did play a part in why I selected it. After all, a person only gets one time to make a first impression. He doesn’t have to love me, but I’d feel a little better if he at least liked me, even if it’s just a little bit.

I’ve never thought of myself as anything more than average. With my brown hair, which often times has a mind of its own, and dimple just below my right eye, I’m a what-you-see-is-what-you-get kind of girl. I’m a hard worker and yes, I’ll give you the last nickel to my name, but I don’t pretend to be something I’m not. People will form their own opinion—it’s human nature—and it’s up to you change their mind.

I’m also very prompt and one look at the dash confirms if I don’t find a parking spot soon, I’m going to be in a heap of trouble. What if he doesn’t wait around? What if he leaves without giving me a chance?

As I approach the hostess stand, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t considering turning around and leaving. Yeah, nervous doesn’t come close to describing the way I’m feeling at the moment.

“Peyton?”

Jeremiah is every bit as handsome as I’d hoped he would be when he steps forward. Wearing a pair of fitted khaki shorts and a golf-style polo, he’s certainly one to turn lots of heads. In fact, a woman standing close by gives us a second glance when he reaches out to take my hand in his.

“I’m sorry that I’m late. I had a difficult time finding a place to park.”

“I had no idea they’d be this busy today. If you’d rather we go someplace else—”

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