Page 8 of The Southern Submission

Four

Payton

Seeing Ainsley’s shocked expression was worth drinking her too-sweet coffee straight from her glass. I wanted to get under her skin more than anything, and I knew that would do it. Besides, she taunted me, and I rise to a challenge at the slightest provocation. Ainsley has been a challenge from the moment I offered my help.

I place the order for Harlowe's and Ainsley’s drinks and pull out my phone while I wait. I look up the Gazette and find Ainsley’s name on a few recent stories to see what she’s been writing. She’s right, her editor assigns her everything, but her talent is obvious. She can write about even the most mundane neighborhood pothole or elementary school PTA corruption stories with the appropriate fervor, and her proseflows lyrically. She also has a habit of writing in a leading way, drawing the reader along in the story with catchy words and alliterations, feeling punchy when needed, though she can be somber in tone when applicable. Her style feels familiar, which must be her brilliance shining through the stories to evoke that sort of awareness despite not having read anything of hers previously.

Her talent is wasted at a small community paper like the Gazette. She’s young, with the skills and work ethic to write for a much better press, and I want to know why she’s not. When the drinks are ready, I take them to the table and see Harlowe making her way back from the bathroom.

I slide the appropriately named serendipity sweet cream iced coffee in front of Ainsley with a wide smile. She gives me a murderous look before returning her attention to her laptop. Looks like I won’t be getting a thank you from her. She can refuse to drink it, or enjoy the caffeine pick-me-up to fuel her writing. Her choice. She’s so fucking cute with her surly attitude and insistence on resisting my charms. I’ll win her over. I chuckle and slide onto the banquette next to her, accidentally letting my hand brush along her leg again as I move between our tables. She doesn’t shy away from the touch, which I take as a good sign.

Harlowe sits down across from me and immediately grabs her magical macchiato and takes a sip. “Oh, this is heaven. I’ve been saving up my caffeine today just to enjoy this treat and it’s perfect.”

“Please explain why you wanted to meet here of all places when I could’ve met you at your house instead?” I lean back, cross my ankle over my knee, and clasp my hands in my lap. I get a peripheral view of Ainsley from this position, and she’s back to speed typing, leaning forward over her laptop like acute croissant, intent on the screen. She’s given up on her blatant eavesdropping from earlier, thankfully, given where I imagine this conversation is going.

“Payton, you’re thirty-five. You work too fucking much. When was the last time you went on a date?” Harlowe asks, pointing her drink at me and getting right down to business like Zander said she would. Yeah, I’m glad Ainsley isn’t paying attention to this.

“You shouldn’t worry about my dating life, Harlowe,” I say with a practiced smile. “I’m perfectly content.”

“That’s just it. I am worried. Both of your brothers are married, with children now. I want that same happiness for you.”

"What if I don't want a wife? And who said I wanted kids?" I challenge.

She reaches across the table and lays her hand out for me to take. I sigh, putting my hand on the table, and she grasps it tightly.

“I want you to have someone to share life with, even if you don't want to be married with kids. You need someone to go home to. To destress with. Or at least to fuck the workday out with. You need a damn release. I know what y’all go through at work. Zander comes home wound tight as hell more days than not.”

I choke out a laugh at her brazen words and look around, worried about the listening ears that will inevitably share this with a gossip site, but realize no one is paying us any attention. Ainsley is still furiously typing, and the rest of the café is busy photographing their pastries or pastel-tinted cups of coffee to have overheard her. I pull my hand away and run it through my hair.

“You’reso kindto care about me,” I reply sarcastically, givingher an acerbic smile. “But I’m fine.” We’ve had this conversation on repeat the last few weeks, and she’s still not getting it.

“That’s just it. You’re not. I’ve seen you over the last six months. You work harder than both of your brothers, putting in longer hours and pushing yourself more than you should, and you’re not going to make the effort for yourself.”

“And that’s how I want it to stay. I want to keep working those long hours and pushing myself, which isn't great for a relationship, so it’s not worth your time to set me up with anyone,” I reason.

“It sucks you’re not interested in Jillian or Libby. They’re both hot as fuck and the kid thing was a sweet deal, which is your loss. I’m keeping Libby as a friend either way. She’s way too sweet to let her get away because your head’s too far up your ass. So I invited my friend Kayla for you to meet. She’s in a book club with me and has the best taste in spicy romance novels. You’ll love her, and she’ll be here in"—she looks down at her phone to check the time before glancing up at me again—"ten minutes. What do you want to know about her?”

She bats dark lashes at me and smiles with a look of feline coyness that proves she got one over on me and knows it as she turns her phone around to show me a photo of a stunning, curvy brunette in front of a bookcase, holding a stack of books and smiling invitingly. She’s absolutely right. Kayla is gorgeous. A perfect smile, porcelain skin, pretty eyes, and so not someone I want Harlowe to set me up with.

“Seriously, stop. Your friends are absolutely gorgeous, sound amazing, and I’m sure they’re all great. I just don't want to date them. I know you mean well, but you don’t have to set me up with anyone.”

“Kayla has turned me onto the most toe-curling novels I’veread lately. Let me tell you, those books are brain porn for us ladies and we need a release when we’re reading them. The girl could use a tall, dark, and handsome real-life book boyfriend of her own to take her frustration out on if you know what I mean.” She winks at me like I haven’t already told her to quit this whole thing.

I have to put a stop to this or it’s just going to get worse. “You’re overstepping,” I say with forced calm when I want to jump up from the table and flee. When Zander said she was going to ambush me, I didn’t realize he meant she was going to have someone meet us here. “I don’t want you setting me up with any of your friends, and I mean it. Even more, I don’t want you springing a blind date on me.”

“You’re not getting any younger and you’re not doing the work yourself, so someone has to. You can thank me later. Fuck, I have to pee again. I swear that’s all I've done lately. Hold on, I’ll run to the restroom before Kayla gets here.” She points a manicured nail at me with a death glare aimed my way for good measure. “If you try to leave before I get back, I will hunt you down and nail your balls to the wall. You hear me, Olsen?” She gives me a look that tells me she’s serious before she pushes away from the table and heads to the bathroom again.

“Fuck,” I swear softly, quickly racking my brain for an out that won’t embarrass Harlowe’s friend, who was unwittingly brought into this scheme with whatever promises Harlowe made her.

Suddenly, Hendricks’s comment from a few weeks back about borrowing his girlfriend and it just being pretend surfaces. An idea takes shape that I know I can run with. It’s fucking brilliant, actually, and if I can pull it off even half decently, it’ll get Harlowe off my back.

I turn toward Ainsley, who’s still absorbed by her story. Ipull the earbuds out of her ears, effectively drawing her attention and earning me a scowl. I grip her chin in my hand to stop any protest she could make and force her to look at me.

“I know what I need that favor to be, and I don't have time to explain. You just have to go with it and trust me. I need you to pretend to be my girlfriend so Harlowe will stop trying to set me up with her friends. She has someone on the way here now and I need an out. If you do this, and we can make her believe it, you’ll have paid me back for fixing your laptop.”

Ainsley’s eyes grow wider with each word out of my mouth. “What?” she squeaks, her chin still gripped in my hand. She pulls away and I let go, knowing I have her full attention now. “There’s no fucking way I can pretend to be your girlfriend. I don’t even know you.”

“You know enough. We’ll say it’s new. We just met. I had you come here so we can hang out after I’m done with this. I didn’t want to introduce you to Harlowe just yet, knowing she’s been on this kick, but she forced my hand by inviting someone else when I had my girlfriend sitting right next to me. We’ll keep the details light. If she starts digging, let me answer for us.” I’m quickly spinning the story, giving us a plausible backstory and Ainsley fewer reasons to deny me.

---