Page 11 of Fake Wife
And she’s single. Otherwise, she’d tell me she has some alpha-asshole boyfriend back at home waiting to kick my ass if I so much as touch her wrong. Although, the tight press of her lips and glare she shoots me when I ask the question is intriguing.
Clearly, though, she’s not going to be some woman who falls at my feet and spills her secrets.
Yes, Teagan Monroe is definitely piquing my interest.
“Tell me about your day. You said it’s been bad? What happened?”
Doubtfulness vanishes and is replaced with a blank expression. She fidgets with the silverware on the table before looking at me. Rolling back her shoulders, she says, “I’m not really sure that’s any of your business, either, Mr. Lane.”
“Corbin,” I correct. “Please. Mr. Lane makes me think of my dad.” Giving her a dose of honesty I know she’s not expecting from me, I continue. “And considering I think he’s the largest asshole to walk the planet, I really don’t like either thinking of him or being compared to him.”
As I expect, the comment startles her. I know how we appear in magazines and photos. The perfect, shining, and always smiling, do-good family in Oregon. If people knew what happened behind closed doors in our home, we’d lose all respect, which is why it’s an act of trust to tell her even that much.
“Perhaps you should get to why we’re here.”
Perhaps we should. I take another drink of my water, the ice doing nothing to chill the sudden rage at Eleanor’s death as it comes to mind. I force it down and lower my voice. “I don’t know if you heard, but my grandmother passed away last week and today was her funeral.”
“I’m sorry,” Teagan says, and the way pain slashes across her features, she completely means it. “I have heard that, I just wasn’t thinking. But I’m sorry for your loss.”
Using Eleanor’s advice for dishing out advice, I ignore the sympathetic statement I’ve heard way too much of late and rip the rest off like a Band-Aid. “This morning I sat through Eleanor’s will reading. It seems as if my lovely grandmother decided to play an epically horrible joke on me. In order to get what I want, she left instructions for me in her will. And this, I think, is where you come in.”
“Me?”
“Before I get to it, tell me about this epically bad day you’ve had and why you were crying. I’m assuming that’s why you ran into me?” Her fingers curl around the edge of the table like she’s about to bolt. Before she can, I reach out and cover her hand with mine, almost knocking over her glass of water in the process. With my other hand, I stabilize the glass. “Please. Trust me. But I’m about to offer you something that’s going to make you think I’m completely insane, plus I’ve told you about my dad. That’s not common knowledge and I’m trusting you to keep that private.”
“I’m not sure—”
“Here’s a hint. I’m about to offer you two hundred and fifty thousand dollars. I just need more information before I do so. Give me something in return.”
Pretty brown eyes widen so quickly I think they might pop out of her head. “Two hundred—”
“Yes. A quarter million dollars. At your disposal.”
The waiter returns and after I test the wine, I gesture for him to fill our glasses, offering a thank-you when he’s done. I give Teagan a moment to allow her to consider what I’m about to offer.
Indecision shows in her features and she reaches for her wine with a trembling hand. “I was fired from my job today, caught my boyfriend of seven years cheating on me, moved out of our apartment, and threw everything I own into the back of my car. I have no home, no job, and no idea what to do next that doesn’t involve moving back to Tennessee, so yeah”—she flips out her hand and blinks, but not before I see tears filling her eyes—“it’s been a shitty day so far. And I’m not sure what game you’re playing or what sort of joke this is, but if you could just get on with it so I can get back to freaking out, buy some wine, and drown my sorrows in the first sleazy hotel I can find until I figure out my next move, that’d be great.”
Rambles when she’s nervous. I like her.
Everything she’s saying means I have absolutely run into the perfect woman for me, semantics aside considering she slammed into me.
By the time she’s done, her entire body is trembling, and before I can think, I’m out of my chair and sliding into one next to her, pulling her into my arms. I’m also not an idiot. The few customers who can see us pull out cameras and begin clicking away.
Within hours they’ll be on Portland’s top gossip blogs.
Which really works out perfectly for me.
I slide my hand to the back of Teagan’s head, tucking her face into the crook of my shoulder while she shakes and cries.
“It’s okay,” I mutter as she pulls back. “Just hold on.” I grab a cloth napkin from the table and hand it to her, whispering in her ear. “People are watching us, take all the time you need, wipe your face. Then I’ll share, okay?”
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to lose it, it’s just…this day.”
“Yours has been shitty,” I agree. I also have some irrational urge to pummel the guy who cheated on her. Sure, maybe she nags him. Perhaps she bitches about clothes on the floor and doesn’t let up about a ring she’s probably expecting after seven years. Maybe she’s like the typical women I’ve met where nothing you do as a man is good enough, and somehow regardless of how hard you try, you can never live up to their constant changing expectations coupled with their increasing desire for more and more of your money.
Except, as Teagan wipes her eyes while keeping her forehead pressed to my shoulder, something in my gut tells me I’m wrong.
She’s also probably way too pure to be dragged into my world, but it’s too late for that.
