Page 28 of Margo and the Faux Good Luck Beau
She’d lifted the heavy ceramic mug to her lips for a sip. Only the corners of her smile peek out from behind it. Her cheeks pink up even more and she looks away.
Taking the coffee for myself, I sit back and say, “The proposal. We actually get married.”
Her eyes slide from side to side. “That’s it? Doesn’t love and all that other stuff come first?”
“As I said, it would be a marriage of convenience.”
“This situation has been escalated. Is there a manager or someone I could talk to?” She helps herself to a bite of the custard cream pie.
“It would be a mutually beneficial agreement.”
“Don’t sugarcoat it or romance me or anything.” She smooths another bite of pie filling onto her fork.
“Your family is pressuring you to get married. Mine is?—”
“Yours is what?”
“There were requests and stipulations. When I meet them, I?—”
“Oh, you get a big inheritance. I’ve seen the movies. Read the books. I know how this works. I could use the money, well, whatever you’re going to pay me. But I don’t want it. Doesn’t feel honest.”
“Seems like a morally gray position to take.”
She straightens. “But you want to get married because of requests and expectations.”
“Stipulations,” I correct.
“I’m going to need some more information. License, registration, birthplace, please.”
The laughter inside builds a little bigger, but I’m not entirely sure she’s joking.
I take out my wallet.
“I was kidding. But, um, I should go. Don’t want to dine and dash, but I literally don’t have cash. If I run my credit card, it’ll be denied. I tried at the gas station earlier. I’ll just have to get the rental back to the airport on fumes.”
“I’ll take care of the tab.”
“That’s very nice of you, consideringyouordered all this pie.” She looks me over as if trying to determine whether I’ll eat the rest of it in a late-night pie-eating contest. I’m on a strict nutritional program with the team trainer and dietician, so it’s mostly meat, eggs, and dairy for me. If Nat finds out about the cake earlier, he’ll punish me with protein powder.
Margo adds, “Thank you. Nothing like pie to help make an odd and awkward situation more comfortable.” She starts to get to her feet.
“So will you do it?” I ask.
“Eat the pie?”
“Marry me.”
She drops back to sitting. “You could try smiling more.”
“So I’ve been told.” When I peek at her, the corner of my mouth curls.
“This is crazy. Probably illegal.” Her hands flap.
“What’s worse, breaking the law or lying to your family?”
“You’re built like a tank. You could just storm the castle. Plow right through the enemy no matter what stipulations they have. Mine steamroll me, Beau.”
“You shouldn’t let them.”
