Page 3 of Home Run Fiancé
Glancing over, Asher presses his lips together and looks as grim as I feel. “Maybe now’s not the best time to bring this up, but I have an idea to help you get to Texas.”
That isn’t the direction I expected the conversation to go. “I’m all ears.”
Asher takes a second to collect his thoughts and I’m instantly preparing myself for something I don’t want to hear. Whenever he pauses like that before spitting something out, he’s trying to come up with the best way to convince you to do something you don’t want to do.
“The only thing holding you back from being the perfect third baseman choice for Texas is your reputation. The paparazzi have painted you to be a total bad boy, going through women like candy. Whether that’s actually true or not won’t matter to Texas. Your reputation will affect them. Period.”
He takes a deep breath as I pull into the parking lot and slam the vehicle into park. I’ve already completely lost my endorphin high and he hasn’t even gotten to this idea of his yet.
“This is radical, but I think it’ll work. So hear me out.” He shifts in his seat and faces me across the console. “Let’s have you get engaged to a steady, normal woman.”
He stops there and just looks at me expectantly.
I don’t move, simply waiting for the rest of his idea. You know, the part that will actually make sense.
“Did you hear me?”
“Yeah. I heard you, man, but nothing about that sentence contains any logic.” I can feel my blood pressure climbing and my stomach growls needing replenishment after the workout.
Asher’s hands start flying in the space between us as he outlines his plan in more detail, getting more excited the more he talks. “You don’t understand. It’ll be a fake fiancée, not for real. Having a stable girlfriend and then fiancée will help your reputation. Everybody loves a reformed bad boy settling down. Plus, with her by your side, women will stop throwing themselves at you at every function. It’s brilliant really.”
If I glare at him any harder, I’ll give myself a headache. “What the—?” I run my hands over my beard, a nervous gesture I’ve tried hard to rid myself of. “Do you even hear yourself? Fake fiancée? That’s insane!”
I open the car door and hop out, Asher following behind me and trying to keep up. “Come on, Jake, just think about it.”
I keep stalking to the restaurant door. Maybe some food in my stomach will help my mood. “I don’t know, man.”
“Just think about it for now. That’s all I ask.”
Right as we get to a free table, I turn and look him in the eye. “Only because it’s you will I even pretend to entertain this asinine idea.”
Asher shrugs, complete confidence in his stature. “I’ve saved your butt many times before. Just sayin’.”
I roll my eyes and sit down, ready to get my grub on and put this day behind me where it belongs.
2
Rhys
“Come on…” I mumble. The darn flowers are the same kind of daisy I used before on my trial run, but for some reason, they aren’t cooperating today. Which is kind of to be expected since I have my camera recording everything this time. Just my luck.
The stem I just tucked under and secured springs free again like an unruly child when my cell phone rings. Probably just as well. These flowers needed to get a little wilty and pliable before I could continue. Pausing the recording on my camera I look over at my screen and see it’s my brother, Asher, calling. I automatically go to pick it up, but stop myself at the last second. I check the antique clock on the wall in my tiny studio apartment and see it’s only ten in the morning on a Tuesday.
I should still be in class.
I put my phone back down on the table like it’s a ticking time bomb and eye it cautiously until it stops ringing. The ensuing silence is heavy with guilt. Then it dings again, alerting me to his voicemail and the weight on my chest increases.
Normally, I share everything with my brother. And I do mean everything. He’s my best friend, and pretty much my only family that cares enough to know anything about my life. But I’m keeping a secret from him for the first time in my life. And it’s a doozy.
Even though Asher is significantly older than me and probably didn’t want a baby sister tagging around, he’s been the only one I could count on, especially since our parents moved to Oregon after their “oops baby”—aka me—turned eighteen. Literally. On my eighteenth birthday, they left for Oregon right after I blew out my candles. It was enough to give a girl a complex, but Asher took me under his wing like he always did and made sure I had my feet securely on the ground.
I went to college and shared a room with three other girls, Asher footing the bill the whole time. I did what I could, and thankfully, I had an awesome job in a coffee shop for two years straight to pay for everything I didn’t want to beg my big brother for.
Problem is, I dropped out of college at the end of last semester and quit my barista job. While technically I had enough units to have my associate’s degree, Asher expected me to graduate with at least a bachelor’s degree and a good job lined up for after graduation. And quitting my perfectly good job would be just stupid, according to him.
I’m currently dodging his calls and waiting for him to realize he hasn’t gotten a tuition bill for the current semester. I hate it, I really do. But I know he wouldn’t understand. He’d be disappointed in me and I just can’t take that right now.
I’m not like Asher. He’s driven and straitlaced and a little old-fashioned with his thinking on success in life. I, too, want to be a success, but I want it on my terms. I don’t want to race up corporate ladders and work for someone else until they think I’m too old and lay me off without any possible job prospects. Having someone pay for your college so you don’t graduate with thousands of dollars of debt is a really huge thing and I don’t mean to be ungrateful. I just don’t think a college degree is necessarily right for everyone. Everyone meaning me.
