Mr. Fiancé Page 2

  Suddenly, I’m struck by an idea, my face lighting up like a light bulb. “Of course, Harold,” I say cheerfully, regaining my composure. “He’ll be coming. He’s been wanting to meet you for forever!”

  I can practically feel my Mom beaming through the phone. “Perfect! I’ll be expecting you both. See you soon, love.”

  The line goes dead, and I’m quick to pocket my cell as I wave Brianna over to the counter. She’s halfway there when the disgruntled woman from earlier jumps up from her seat. Apparently, she’s finished with her drink and not satisfied in the least.

  “You were wrong,” she says loudly at me, brushing by Brianna to get to me. “It wasn’t worth the wait. I’ve tasted far better, like the Unicorn Frappuccino they serve at the place on the other side of town.” She shakes her head angrily and almost yells, “You guys suck. I’m never coming here again!” Cutting her eyes at me, she spins around and walks off, nearly running into Brianna on her way out.

  Brianna’s forehead crinkles into a frown as she reaches the counter. “Having a bad day, I take it?” She asks.

  My chest fills with warmth as my eyes fall on my good friend. Dressed in a white and yellow flower dress that has a low V-cut with her long brown hair pulled into a lazy bun, she looks absolutely voluptuous. Shit, had I known pregnancy could do that, I would’ve gotten knocked up years ago.

  “Besides the A/C not working and being overrun for over half the morning? Business as usual,” I say dismissively. With my mind on my idea, the dissatisfied customer is already old news. “We were a little behind earlier.”

  “I feel sorry for you. Someone’s been called about the A/C,” Brianna says. She pauses and frowns again. “And what the hell’s a Unicorn Frappuccino?”

  I roll my eyes. “It’s all the rage right now. What rock have you been hiding under?”

  “Have you tried it?” Brianna asks curiously.

  I shake my head. “Hell, no! I have a friend who did and she was shitting glitter and rainbows all week.”

  “Mindy!” Brianna protests.

  I shake my head. “I’m serious! It’s a real drink.”

  Brianna looks like she’s about to argue and then thinks better of it, shaking her head. “I’ll take your word for it.”

  “Good,” I say, reaching across the counter to tug on Rafe’s small hand. He giggles as I shake it. He’s a spitting image of both his parents, with adorable baby blues and dirty-blonde hair. “How’s my little man doing?”

  Brianna smiles, her eyes lighting up as she looks at her baby boy. “Good. He’s talking even more now and can almost form a full sentence.”

  “That’s awesome.” I grin at Rafe and soften my tone into a voice as sweet as sugar. “Can you say a sentence for Aunt Mindy? Huh, Rafey?”

  “Hungry!” Rafe says, reaching for his mom’s left breast.

  “Rafe stop it!” Brianna snaps, grabbing Rafe’s little arm before he can pull her boob out in public, her cheeks turning red. “Sorry,” she mutters. “He does that all the time.”

  I shake my head. I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t help myself. “Takes after his Daddy, and I don’t blame him, Jersey Maid. You look like you can feed the village with those milk jugs.”

  “Mindy!”

  “Girl, I’m serious. What are you, a triple-D now? If I ever run out of creamer, I know just the person to call.”

  “I’m gonna leave!” Brianna threatens.

  I let out a laugh. “Oh my God, lighten up, will you? It was just a joke.”

  Brianna scowls. “Well, you’re not funny.”

  “Yeah, I am.” The grin on my face slowly fades as I remember my idea.

  “So how’s Gavin?” I ask, clearing my throat. Gavin, Brianna’s husband, is almost just as good a friend as Brianna is to me. A former football star, he’s settled down into small-town life with surprising ease. But I would think it would be hard not to with the beautiful ranch they moved into. “He enjoying fatherhood much?”

  Brianna nods, a smile coming to her face. “Very much so. He can’t wait until Rafe is old enough to go fishing with him. He talks about it every day.”

  “What about work?” I ask, leaning in with intense interest.

  Brianna gazes at me for a moment. “Well, with the money he made during his football career and his investments, he’s not hard up for a job. He’s taking it easy right now. The kids love the football camp he runs, mentoring disadvantaged children, and helping local actors—”

  Brianna’s talking, but I’m starting to zone out, my mind drifting to my predicament.

  It seems she notices, and Brianna stares at me suspiciously. As my best friend, she always knows when something is up. “Mindy Price, what is going on in that head of yours?”

  “Umm . . . I need to ask you something,” I admit.

  Brianna arches an eyebrow as I feel sweat begin to form on my brow. “Oh, really? What’s that?”

  I stand there silently, not knowing how to form my next words, my heart pounding like a battering ram. Jesus, she’s not going to make this easy.

  “Mindy,” she presses. “I’m waiting.”

  I’m unable to part my lips. I don’t know how to tell her about the lie that I’m caught up in.

  “Mindy!” Bri cracks.

  “Mindy!” Rafe echoes, pointing at me.

  Just say it!

  Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath. And when I open them, I finally ask, “Know any hot guys named Harold?”

  Chapter 2

  Oliver

  “Pair of aces,” I announce with a grin, turning my cards over on the wooden table and gathering the pot from the middle of the table in one giant swoop. “Bend over, buddy. Your ass is mine.”

  “Fuck, man!” Jason Woods, a twenty-four-year-old friend and fellow businessman yells, slapping his hand down on the table with enough force to cause some of my chips to go flying off, his face an angry red. “That’s the second fucking time you called my bluff,” he complains.

  I sit back in my seat and appraise him, hiding a smirk. Jason’s not a good poker player. He’s okay when he’s winning, but whenever he starts losing or is under pressure, I can read him like a book. With his tells, I can easily see if he’s bluffing or if he has a good hand.

  “He’s a lucky bastard,” Kevin White, another buddy of mine in his early thirties who’s sitting beside me, agrees. Shaking his head, he rolls back the sleeves of his white dress shirt, his blonde hair glinting against the single light hanging above our heads. Having lost nearly all night, he’s not as pissed as Jason is. But then again, Kevin never gets that pissed about anything. I bet he could lose his life savings and his reaction would be mild.

  “Sorry, boys,” I say with a grin and then joke, “I taught Phil Ivey everything he knows.”

  Jason lets out a derisive snort. “Dude, you’re so full of shit. Your whole game is about sitting there with that cocky smirk on your face and getting lucky on the river.”

  I huff out a short laugh. “Don’t hate. A win’s a win.”

  “And a dick’s a dick,” Jason snarls.

  “Hey, hey, now,” Gavin Adams says sternly from across the table, shaking his head at Jason. Dressed all in black, he looks like the dark knight with golden hair as he scowls. “Let’s not. We all know Oliver’s good. We’re all grown men here. There’s no reason to get pissed when we lose. This is like the third time you’ve popped off after a loss, and it’s getting old.”

  Gavin’s words seemed to calm Jason at once. “You’re right.” He barely looks my way as he adds, “Sorry, Oliver. Tired of losing, that’s all.”

  As a former football star and kind of a celebrity, Gavin has more clout with the friends in our circle. No matter how wrong he might be, they almost always agree with whatever he says. It’s a nice perk, but it’s got to get old with everyone being fake around you. I’d rather someone give it to me straight.

  I toss Gavin an imperceptible nod of thanks, though I think I could’ve handled the situation just fine
myself.

  “All good,” I tell Jason. “No offense taken.”

  “Yeah, cause you have my money,” Jason mutters under his breath, but I pretend I don’t hear it.

  “Glad y’all got that out the way. Now can we fucking play?” Kevin says.

  The blood rushes through my veins at his words, Jason’s anger quickly forgotten. Looking at my stash, I rub my palms together in anticipation. “Let’s do it.”

  I love playing poker and taking risks. The higher the stakes, the bigger the rush.

  Rock climbing, sky diving, martial arts, poker . . . if there’s a real risk involved, I want a taste of it. It hasn’t always been this way, though.

  As an executive at Steele Pharmaceuticals, I never wanted for cash. My father was the CEO and owner, and I was his right-hand man. I could have and do anything I wanted. But with that position of power came a fuck ton of stress . . . along with a lot of disagreements. The stress and the arguing got so bad that I eventually sold all of my shares of the company and quit after my seven-year tenure, leaving my Dad to run the company by himself.

  My father was furious with me over my move. He thought my leaving at the height of our success was a huge slap in the face. But I couldn’t help myself. If I’d stayed there any longer, we would’ve ended up at each other’s throat and hating each other. I didn’t want it to be that way, so I left.

  A year later, I have a net worth of over ten million, living the small-town life. I even own a small home a few blocks down from my mother when I could be living large. It’s been quite an adjustment for someone so used to the city. But it’s nice to be able to help my mom, a poor single woman who chose not to accept a red cent from my wealthy father when they got divorced.

  “Well, as long as you gentlemen don’t start pulling out guns and shooting each other,” says old man Joe, the sixty-year-old barber and host for our games, “I’m fine with it.”

  I chuckle as my eyes find the man sitting at the head of the table, dressed in dark clothing with a straw hat on. Old Joe has a large belly and a big mop of salt and pepper hair. He has one of those finely groomed beards that hides his face and makes him look like he’s jolly even when he’s pissed. He’s the living punchline of the old joke, if a town has two barbers, go to the one with the bad haircut since he’s the good one and the other one sucks.

  “Let me get a smoke first,” Jason says, taking out a cigarette and a lighter in one smooth flourish. He’s about to light it when Gavin shakes his head.

  “Not in here,” Gavin says firmly. “If you want to do that shit, go outside.”

  “Come on, man,” Jason whines. “Are you serious? We’re playing poker. Smoking goes hand in hand.”

  “We have to tell you this shit every time. You’re the only one who smokes here. Take it outside.”

  Jason scowls, still fingering the cigarette like it’s his lifeline. “My wife doesn’t care if I smoke.”

  “Yeah?” Gavin says, “Well, mine does. And I’m not going back home smelling like second-hand ass funk.”

  Jason mutters something under his breath, but he stuffs the lighter and the pack of cigarettes back into his pocket.

  “How’s Brianna anyway?” Kevin asks.

  A light brightens Gavin’s eyes and a slight smile comes to his lips. “Pretty good. She’s having a blast raising our little man Rafe, but lately, she’s been complaining about the baby weight that won’t come off.”

  Kevin chuckles. “Tara does the same thing. But I think it fits her.”

  Gavin nods, a boyish smirk curling his lips. “I rather like it myself,” he agrees.

  I shift in my seat, feeling slightly uncomfortable. Talk of wives and babies always makes me feel anxious for some reason. I don’t particularly have a desire to settle down with a woman and have children.

  Not when my last relationship left me sour with how overly needy and clingy she was. She loved the way I fucked, but she loved the size of my bank account even more. When I found out what she was truly after, I dropped her faster than a hot potato.

  Since then, love ‘em and leave 'em has become my motto. Except lately, I haven’t been doing much loving at all. I’m always too busy with my corporate security startup and helping my mom when she needs it.

  In fact, it’s high time I get some action. It’s been awhile since I made a girl . . .

  “So when are you going to settle down, Oliver?” Jason asks me, tearing me out of my thoughts. “You’re the only guy at the table who’s still single.”

  I clear my throat. Why do we always end up talking about this shit? Can’t we just play the damn game without going into our personal lives? “I don’t know. Haven’t met the one yet.”

  Kevin shakes his head. “You’re missing out, man. Nothing beats having a family to call your own.”

  “I could argue against that,” I say in braggadocious tones, not letting any of my feelings show. “Being free to do whoever you want, whenever you want has its perks.” I wiggle my eyebrows for maximum effect.

  “So about that game,” Gavin says, suddenly eager to change the subject, noticing that it’s something I’d rather not discuss. “Let’s play.”

  Joe deals me my two cards, and I look—Ace of diamonds and the Ace of spades. I wait while Gavin checks his cards. “I’ll raise five thousand,” Gavin says.

  “Five grand? Are you out of your damn mind?” Jason asks, shaking his head. “Man, every time I get a decent deal, you just slam the pot with that shit. Fuck this. I’m sitting this one out.”

  “Yeah, me too,” Kevin adds, turning his hand over and tossing it in. “Two-four off suit? I’m not an idiot yet.”

  Gavin’s done that before, tried to bully the little bits of the blind by splashing the pot, but I’m not taking it this time. Not with paired aces. “Ten grand.”

  Joe drops the flop, and I see magic. Ace of hearts and two sevens. I’ve got a full house—three aces and two sevens. Gavin licks his lips, and I know I have him. I got exactly what I needed. He checks. I knew he was trying to steal the pot.

  “You wanna raise the stakes? I raise twenty thousand,” I reply, shoving in the chips. The odds of him beating my full house are slim to none, and I’ll admit, I’d like to get one over on the former football star.

  I can’t believe it when Gavin calls my bet. “Call,” Gavin says, his hands shaking slightly. Joe gives Gavin a look but shrugs as Gavin moves in the chips, and then he flips over the turn card.

  King of diamonds. Gavin blinks, his eyes tight. “Check,” he says.

  Inside, I grin. I’ve got him. Even if he had two kings in his hand, he loses. “One hundred thousand.”

  There’s not a sound in the room as everyone looks at Gavin, wondering what the fuck he’s doing. Finally, he takes a deep breath and slides his chips into the middle. “Call.”

  Joe drops the river, and I feel a sense of concern. But then I see it’s the ten of clubs. No chance in hell he can beat me, but his next words confuse the hell out of me. “Five hundred grand,” he says.

  Gavin gives me a tight smile and slides the money in. Has he lost his fucking mind? “This one’s mine,” he gloats.

  “Hardly,” I say with a laugh, pushing in my chips. “Call.” Gavin grins again and turns over his cards. “Four sevens.”

  As soon as I see the pair of sevens, the air is ripped from my lungs.

  I stare at the cards in disbelief, feeling numb all over. He raised five grand on a pair of fucking sevens and then flopped four-of-a-kind? How lucky can you be? I can’t believe it—he flopped a four of a kind. Around the table, everyone seems to be echoing my shock. Old Joe, Kevin, and Jason are frozen like statues, staring at me with surprise in their eyes.

  I clench my jaw, anger rising from the pits of my stomach. It doesn’t matter though. I accepted the bet and I lost.

  I get up from my seat, feeling absolutely defeated, ignoring all the eyes on me. “I’ll transfer the funds to your account in the morning,” I say, keeping my tone even, even t
hough I’m fucking pissed with myself. I don’t know what the hell I was thinking.

  It fucking sucks losing that much money, but it’s not going to break me, though it’s sure going to hurt.

  “I’m done for the night. That’s gonna put me on tilt if I keep playing,” I tell them, turning to leave.

  “Wait,” Gavin says, standing up.

  I turn, arching an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

  Gavin glances around at the other men. “Are we done for the night? Let me talk to Oliver alone.”

  Without saying a word, Kevin, Jason, and Joe get up, gather their things, and leave the room, each one casting sympathetic looks my way as they file out.

  “What’s this all about?” I ask. “It’s a lot of money, but you know it’s not going to break me.”

  Gavin stares at me for several moments before asking, “What if you could keep your money?”

  I frown. “What do you mean? I got overconfident and lost fair and square.”

  Gavin goes silent, studying my face. Finally, he speaks up. “I have a proposition for you.”

  “What—”

  “You do a favor for me and we’ll call it even.”

  I want to tell Gavin to go fuck himself. I’m a man, and I pay my debts. But a part of me is intrigued now, and I’m dying to see what Gavin has up his sleeve. “What kind of favor?”

  Gavin steeples his fingers together, staring at me, appraising me.

  “Well?” I ask, the anticipation killing me. “What is it?’

  His next words shoot across the table like a speeding bullet. “I need you to pretend to be a friend’s fiancé for a week.”

  I let out an incredulous laugh. I was totally not expecting something like that. “What?”

  Gavin proceeds to tell me all about his friend, who’s the godmother of his child and best friend of his wife, and how she’s gotten herself into a bind because of a lie.

  “Absolutely not,” I say firmly when he’s done, shaking my head. I’m not gonna lie, his offer is tempting. But there’s no way I can accept it. I have too much lined up. Business meetings, lunch dates . . . and there were those repairs to my mom’s attic I’d promised her I’d fix myself instead of paying some stranger to do it. “I’m not disrupting my life and plans to be some chick’s cuckold for a week.”