On my ass and reeling, I struggled to find my feet. "Fucking hell."
He leaned his elbow on the island, staring down at me with raised eyebrows. "Don't be so dramatic."
"I'm not dramatic, I'm short, and your chairs are made for an NBA team." I pulled myself to my feet, and Mini ran over, shoving her nose into my hand and snuffling around me in concern. I patted her head absently but fixed Rook with a crazed look. "I'm sorry, what did you say?"
He straightened again, going back to cutting his tomato. "I said we should get married. It's the fastest, easiest way out of this. There's only a three-day waiting period after getting a marriage license, so we could have this solved in as few as two weeks and go our separate ways easily." He paused, looking up in thought. "Although, divorce does take a few months. You might be married to me for the better part of this year and next, but that's not so ba—"
"Absolutely not," I said with a rueful laugh.
He gave me a blank look. "Why not?"
"Are you serious?" I planted both my palms on the island and leaned forward for emphasis. "Marriage? To get out of a lease?"
"It's not real," he said dismissively. He finished cutting the tomato and moved on to the cucumber.
"You didn't rinse those," I pointed out.
Rook glared. "Gemma. Marriage is the fastest way out of this mess. Just agree to it, and I'll take care of everything. You can even keep this apartment as an apology gift."
A whole ass house was a pretty great gift, but… marriage? I didn't care that it wasn't real. It would be real enough to me. The divorce would be real, too, and who was to say that would go smoothly? What if I met someone in the middle of all this? What did that say about marriage and love and everything I stood for personally and professionally? What might that mean for my reputation? If any of my clients found out I'd been married for mere months and then divorced, they would never trust me.
I shook my head. "No. I'm not doing that. I make a living findingtruelove for people."
"Don't be difficult." Rook swiped his knife across the cutting board, and it scraped over my nerves just as badly as this conversation. "I'll go on Monday and get the license. We'll need a prenup, of course, but I can have the lawyers—"
"No." I pushed away from the counter and walked back across the living room. Mini followed, her collar jingling and nails tapping across the hardwood until we hit the dark blue rug in the living room. I plunked myself in my chair, snapped my headphones over my ears, and pulled up the loading screen for my game.
My chair spun around suddenly, and Rook leaned his hands on the arms of my chair. He hooked me with a steely cold glare. "Gemma Daise. Do not walk away from me when we're in the middle of a conversation."
My heart clenched, and I pressed myself back into the chair. Scary. Kinda sexy. "Or what?"
The chair creaked as he tightened his hands around the armrests. "Or I'll change the Wi-Fi password."
I squinted. "That's low." Then I slid a look toward my dog who sat calmly on her haunches and watched the exchange like we were her favorite reality TV show. "What, you're not going to bite his ankles?" Mini chuffed, turning away from us to go lie down. "Wow, et tu, Brute?"
Rook ducked his head to catch my attention again. "Don't walk away from me." He had rolled up his white shirt to his elbows, and I glanced down, taking in the veins along his forearms and the way his arms flexed as he held his weight over me.
Cologne and the crisp scent of cucumber filled my senses, and I swallowed against a dry mouth before lifting my eyes to his again. "How about skipping? Can I skip away?"
His jaw ticked. "Prohibited."
"Dancing?"
"Maybe. Are you any good?"
I grinned. "Want to see?"
"No. Marry me, Gemma."
My breath caught in my lungs, and I sipped in a surprised breath. "You can't just say things like that. It's mental."
Rook didn't put even an inch of distance between us. "Stop being contrary."
"Self-improvement isn't really my thing." I swept a look over his tidy blond hair, down to the creases around his tired eyes, and to his lips. Goddamn, this man was gorgeous. It was horribly unfair. Was this the only proposal I would get in my life? A fake one from an unattainably beautiful man with the manners of a surly honey badger?
"I'll fix that," he promised, standing. But the distance did nothing for my pounding heart because the way he stared downat me with that unflinching, flawless expression had my stomach doing pirouettes. "Think about what I said. I want an answer tomorrow."
"I gave you an answer."
