Page 39 of Billionaire in Disguise

"That’s your perfect 10?" Allison gaped. "Are you certain you’re not talking about a puppy?"

Kaitlyn laughed. She attracted her fair share of men, yet the type of male who pursued her left much to be desired. Her last three boyfriends, Mr. Wrong, Mr. Really Wrong and Mr. I-Thought-Neanderthals-Were-Extinct Wrong, proved that. Big and burly, aggressive and narcissistic, the men were more interested in a trophy girlfriend than in a true woman or relationship. If she ever had time to date, she would choose a non-aggressive gentleman who would let her be who and what she wanted. "Sounds perfect to me." Kaitlyn grabbed a handful of gooey cookie dough and began to shape miniature hearts. "But it doesn’t matter anyway. Like I said, I don’t need a man."

"Mail call!"

Kaitlyn smiled as the letter carrier, an elderly man with soft laugh lines etched on his kindly face, placed a thick pile on the side bench. “Good morning, Frank. How are you?”

“Wonderful.” Aged eyes sparkled with mirth. “Thank you again for the surprise gift basket for the wife. It cheered her right up after the surgery.”

“Of course.” She smiled warmly. “On your way out, stop by the counter. I have a little something for both of you.”

His ruddy cheeks deepened. “You don’t have to spoil us.”

Perhaps not, but it felt great.

She palmed another handful of sticky batter, halted as an unobtrusive letter peeked out from under the stack. She placed down the batter, wiped her hands on her apron and reached for the small brown envelope.

Her heart stuttered as she uncovered the return address. She clutched the envelope tighter, crinkling it in pale fingers, before swiftly tearing it open, accidently ripping the folded note within. The scent of cheap perfume tickled her nose as she brought out a thin piece of paper with three single sentences:

I'm taking you up on your standing offer. See you Friday for a week visit. I can't wait to meet your better half. Cynthia

She read the contents of the missive. Then she read it again. She read it once more. And yet its contents remained the same, the modern version of a gauntlet thrown from across the country.

"What is it?" Allison asked in a low voice. All signs of mirth had vanished, in a charged atmosphere that couldn't be missed. "Has something happened?"

Kaitlyn folded the offending letter and placed it into the envelope. She picked up the batter for the next heart, moving in methodical motions, as the letter repeated itself in her mind. She made a dozen hearts before her hands stilled on the mushy batter. She let out a deep, low breath. "I never thought it would come to this," she whispered.

Allison brought her hands to her lips, her expression tinted with dread. "What is it?"

Then Kaitlyn uttered the most tragic words ever voiced in human existence:

"I need a man."

Allison stood silent, too shocked to speak. Kaitlyn breathed deeply. Her friend clearly appreciated the grave implications of the statement. Caught in a position of vulnerability and the need for… a man. The situation deserved a moment of silence.

"I’m sorry." Allison shook her head. "I thought you said..."

"I need a man," Kaitlyn repeated miserably. "I don’t believe it."

"Neither do I. But backtrack for a second.” Alison pointed to the folded paper. “I’m assuming your announcement has to do with that letter."

"Unfortunately." Kaitlyn picked up the discarded piece of mail, keeping it at arm’s length as if a rabid dog poised to bite. "My cousin Cynthia has decided to visit. In just a few days she will invade my home, where she will expect my boyfriend and I to welcome her."

"Boyfriend?" Allison opened her mouth, closed it. "You have a boyfriend?"

"No. Yes. No." Kaitlyn rubbed the bridge of her nose, where a dull ache had started to throb. Her cousin hadn’t yet arrived and already she was upending her life. "As children, Cynthia deemed it her mission to best me in any and every way possible. It is a practice she’s carried into adulthood."

"Sounds like she never made it past her teens."

"Precisely. Every so often she calls to gloat about this or that, always in a sugar-coated manner that rubs me like fingernails on a chalkboard. A couple of years ago, she spent an hour bragging about her wonderful boyfriend and ridiculing my lack thereof. I finally had enough. I concocted a story about a fictional boyfriend and enjoyed a splendid afternoon convincing her I scored the greatest man of the season."

She shrugged. "I never thought it would matter. How could she ever discover my lie? She’s not on social media and doesn’t keep in touch with the rest of the family, at least not since the incident at my cousin’s wedding, which involved several groomsmen, an extraordinary amount of tequila and not a lot of clothing.” She winced. “According to this letter, however, she's coming in three days and is very excited to see my fairytale prince. Which is why I have to start kissing every frog in town."

"But it still doesn’t make sense." Allison held up her hands. "You go after what you want, and I’ve never seen you afraid of anyone. Why don’t you just tell her the truth?"

"I can’t.” Kaitlyn breathed out. “I’m not embarrassed or ashamed I don’t have a fairytale prince, if he even exists. Like I said before, I don’t want or need him, and I’ll tell that to a thousand Cynthias. I just don’t want her to know I got worked up enough to lie about it. Could you imagine her gloating to every relative from my mother to fifth cousin? She'd end the family feud just to do it!"

Allison frowned. "Couldn’t you just tell her you broke up?"

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