Page 9 of Never Say Yes To Your Best Friend (I said Yes)

“I just know. We’ve been friends for ages. I know her type, and you’re not it. Especially because you’ve been churning through rich women, looking for someone to put up on your mantle and carry on your undoubtedly very blue bloodline and blah, blah, blah, gross, no thanks.”

“I amnotlooking for a trophy wife.”

That seems to be a sore point with him. I guess maybe I was a bit insulting. I’m supposed to be salvaging this, not making it worse.

“You’re definitely not out here looking for your soulmate like this. Not from what Gen understood, and she is usually very adept at reading a situation. What’s the point if you just want someone you can stand but don’t love? Gen’s not into that, and I personally think it’s the wrong reason to be dating. Marriages shouldn’t be built on barely liking each other. They hardly last as it is.”

“Exactly.”

“Really?” I cross my arms above the huge plate of crab. I have no idea what that’s supposed to mean. It doesn’t seem like he’s agreeing with me.

“We’re not here to discuss that anyway. Not now.” He settles back and looks all dark and dangerous in his chair. He’s thinking, and I can see the malevolent wheels turning in that exceptionally beautiful manly face. “No. We’re here to discuss something else.”

Shit. The way he’s looking at me makes me want to squirm. It’s like he’s figured out the mystery of the world, and he’s about to tell me what I have to do to earn that knowledge, and I’m not going to like it. No. No, he’s just going to tell me that he has an idea as to how I’m going to salvage this so it doesn’t reach either of our parents. I can see it coming. Here it is. His way too nice manly lips part, and yup, here it comes.

“Genevieve and I might be different people, but we seem to have been backed into the same kind of corner by our parents. She was right about one thing. I’ve been on far too many blind dates that didn’t work out. I didn’t want to crush my mother’s spirit, so I kept going on them. Do I like it? Not at all. Could I abide a marriage with someone where there’s mutual respect and friendship, and would I support her in whatever endeavors she wanted to do in her life? Yes. Would I demand children? I would not. All of that said, I suppose I haven’t found the right match yet.”

Suppose? He supposes? He’s only talking like this because he’s exceptionally pissed off. I can just tell. He’s being so freaking politely sarcastic right now. And the real doozy is still coming.

“Neither of us wanted to disappoint our parents, it seems, but neither of us wanted to do this, which is why I’ve come up with a plan.”

“Right now? You’ve come up with one right now?” I have that sinking heart and bad belly feeling that I’m not going to like it either.

“That’s right. The plan is this. You pretend to be my fake girlfriend, and then, after six months, my fake fiancée. A few weeks later, we decide things aren’t right, and we go our separate ways. This way, my family stops giving me blind dates, and I can stop breaking my mom’s heart for just a few months. We all get a little peace. I’ll never let on that this disaster date switch happened. We’ll say we met somewhere else.”

“And where would that be?” I’m ultra-sarcastic, too, because there’s no way I’m playing this game.

“Work.”

“We don’t work together,” I scoff.

It’s an incredibly stupid thing to say because the lights go on behind Mont’s eyes, and when those lights go on, it’s impossible to sit here and not be both impressed and terrified. Also, my body goes through a whole secondary waking-up cycle, and I start to shiver on the spot. Not from fear, either. Does this man have to be so gorgeous when he’s being all bossy and commanding?

“Why would I play along?”

“You’re a great actress, clearly. You have to want something. Everyone does.”

Oh. This? We’re going there? “You couldn’t afford what I want.” It’s good to be snippy. I’m the worst actress, but right now, I’m rising to the occasion.

“Here’s the thing, Evil-la-la-la. I can pretty much afford anything I want.”

“Oh, haha. Nice. Like you’re the first person who’s ever butchered my name. You’re not. Just saying. I’m immune to all the stupid jokes about it. Also, I’m calling your bluff. You’re not that rich.”

“Iamthat rich. But even if I weren’t, I could still find a way to mess with your life.”

“What?” My voice gets sharp and deadly in two seconds. “Threats? We’re resorting to threats now? Why? Because my friend begged me to fill in for her on this silly date? No. You don’t get to be a jerk like that. The secret’s out, and alright, maybe we shouldn’t have done a swap and tried to purposely wreck this, but it was never going to work anyway. There’s been no harm done. I’ll even pay for my half of dinner. No one is any worse for wear.”

Why in the ever-loving fuck did I give this guy my real name? I should have just dashed. What would he have done? Chased me down?

He probably would have gone to his parents, who would have gone to Gen’s parents. Then, she would have been in trouble, and she would have had to come clean, and her parents would have gone to his parents and told them the whole truth, and he would have found out who I was anyway.

I stare him down. There’s no way I’m breaking eye contact, even if I’m breathing like I’ve just run for two minutes. Whatever. Don’t judge me. I hate running. Two minutes is pretty much all it takes to make it clear to anyone who’s ever tried it that it’s a horrendous sport.

“You won’t mess with my life because that would just be childish. You want to stop going on blind dates set up by your parents? Then tell them that. It’syourlife. That’s what I told Gen. The whole notion is so silly, anyway. I shouldn’t even behere. None of us should. That’s the end of it. I’m going now. It was nice meeting you. Goodnight.”

I dig in my purse and toss a handful of twenties, which I hope does cover at least some of what I ate, although I don’t know since this place is pretty ritzy and probably overpriced. I want to take the crab legs because they arethatgood,and they shouldn’t be left behind, so I sweep them into my purse. They stick out at funny angles, but do I have any shits left to give?

Not right now I don’t.

---