Four Weddings and a Break Up (6 page)

“Aw, Mom.” Julie hugged their mom. “You know we love you.”

“Look how sweet Julie is. You really should concentrate on her.” Ginny loved her sister, but all was fair when their mother got set to matchmaking.

“Julie’s still young. Plus, she’s my baby. I can’t let my baby go just yet. But you”—her mom frowned—“need to settle down.”

Ginny sat down in a chair at the kitchen table. She didn’t want to go through with her mother’s mashed up version of a dating show. Wes’ card was burning a hole in the pocket of her jeans. Hopefully, her sister would play along. “Mom. I
can’t
do this. I met somebody, and I’ve started dating him.”

“You have?” Her mom’s voice rose in excitement. Her sister merely raised her brows in question. “Do tell.”

“It’s still new into our relationship.” All of two seconds. “He’s tall. Dark. Handsome.” Ginny met her sister’s gaze. “And just a little dangerous.”

A huge grin appeared on Julie’s face. “Way to go, Gin.”

Her sister wouldn’t be saying that if she knew the whole story, which Ginny would never tell.

“Not a bad dangerous, I hope,” her mom said.

“I don’t think so. He’s moved to Cape Hope because his dad is sick. His dad is Nick Flaherty.”

“You’re dating one of the Flaherty boys?”

“Oh, TJ was a couple years ahead of me. My friends and I used to sigh over his blond godliness.” Julie sighed, as if she were recalling the memory. “He used to ride this motorcycle.”

“He still rides that motorcycle. Without a helmet,” her mom said with a frown. “They were wild, although I will say they’ve seemed to settle down as they’ve gotten older. Their dad is a decent guy, although he’s not doing too well.”

“I’m not dating one of the Flaherty brothers,” Ginny clarified. “But he is Nick’s son. I’m dating Wes Dalton.”

“That must be the boy from Nick’s first marriage. Wes and his mom moved to Las Vegas when he was a toddler. I don’t know Wes that well,” her mom said.

Thank goodness for that.

“I’ll ask around about Wes, but I expect to see the both of you at dinner next weekend.” Her mom stood and clapped her hands together. “Well, I’ve got to break it to seven eligible men that they’re not needed. Poor Raoul. He’s an artist, too!”

When her mom left the room, Ginny let out a relieved breath.

“So,” Julie began, “how much of that is true?”

“How much do you think?” Ginny closed her eyes briefly. “I feel bad, but desperate times call for desperate measures. I can’t have Mom trying to fix me up because she thinks settling down is the cure to all my problems. Marriage does not equate with instant happiness. Are you going to blow my cover?”

Julie bit her lower lip. “I guess I’m not going to have to cook you dinner and carrot cake for the next two months, am I?”

They broke out laughing.

Ginny gathered herself and wagged a finger at Julie. “Be careful. When Mom starts doing this to
you
, you’ll be sorry you didn’t help me out more.”

“I’m not going to say anything. Be careful though. You know she means well.”

“I do. I just need a reprieve from the bad dates, and Mom trying to make everything better. It’s not working. I just need . . .” To her horror, tears filled her eyes. She quickly tamped them down. Crying never made anything better. “It’s just all this stress.”

Julie crossed to her, sat down in a chair, and took her hands in her own. “I know, Gin. It’s going to be okay.”

“You keep saying that. And I keep waiting for it to happen.”

“Does Mr. Dangerous know?”

“Wes? Yes. He’s the one who came up with the idea in the first place. I have to let him know I’ve changed my mind. He’s going to enjoy it.”

“Not in a mean way?” Julie scowled. “Because if he’s a jerk to you, I don’t care how big he is or how much he outweighs me, I will hurt him.”

Her little sister, so fierce and loyal. Two of the many reasons why Ginny loved her so much. “No, there won’t be any need for that. He’s left his life in Las Vegas to help take care of his dad with his brothers—that says a lot about him. I should call him.”

Julie squeezed her hands. “It can wait until later. If you want to cry, Gin, you can. You know that, right?”

“Of course. But crying doesn’t get you anywhere, nor does it change things. I’m fine, Julie.”

“You keep saying that to me, and I keep waiting for it to be true.”

So do I
.

Ginny forced a smile. “Truly. In a few months, Cape Hope will be onto some other scandal. Maybe Katie Holden will accidentally dye someone’s hair purple again. Or Fred McNiels will get caught shoplifting from that antique store on Main.”

“Or maybe people will hear how Mom managed to get eligible bachelors to line up in hopes of dating one of her daughters, and hire her as a matchmaker.”

“You better take that back before it happens.”

“And you better be careful you don’t fall for Mr. Dangerous.”

“I’m not going to fall for him. Wes and I are in perfect accord. We both know exactly what we don’t want.”

A
t lunchtime
, Wes waited at the beach, by the lighthouse, for Ginny to arrive. He’d dropped his dad off at the doctor for his appointment, then headed over here. He sat on a park bench, under a birch tree and watched as gulls flew toward the ocean. He’d offered to meet her at Charlie’s, the local diner, but she quickly shot that down because it would be too crowded.

She obviously knew the area well. Although he could hear kids laughing down the way as they played in the sand or water, no one was at the lighthouse.

He saw her car pull into the small lot. She got out, dressed in capris, a bright blue t-shirt, and flat sandals. Her hair was pulled back into a low ponytail, and sunglasses covered her eyes. Ginny searched the area, found him, and smiled.

He didn’t know why that pleased him so much, but it did. He stood as she made her way over to him.

“Hey. Thanks for meeting me.” She pushed up her sunglasses as she stepped under the tree. There was hardly any makeup on her face, but she was still pretty. That unpainted pouty mouth of hers was driving him to distraction.

“Like I said last night on the phone, I think you’re right and that we should pretend to date.”

“Well, I am always right.” Her eyes, he thought, were so dark and expressive. Humor flashed in them briefly. That was another thing he liked about her—she didn’t take things too seriously. She could joke with him and tease him in return. It would be easy to be with her. There would be no expectations on either end. Just how he liked it.

“How’s the bachelorette doing today?” On the phone last night, she had told him about her mom’s attempt at a set-up.

“Ha. Ha. Very funny.” She sat down, picked a blade of grass, and rubbed it between two fingers. “You don’t have to keep standing.”

Wes joined her on the bench, draping one arm on the back. His fingers brushed the ends of her hair. He wondered if she noticed. Apparently, she did because she moved forward and turned her body to him so they were face to face.

He just wanted to pretend to be with her to make his life easier these next three months. It was a selfish move on his end, but he didn’t want to deal with any set ups, not when he’d come out here for his family.

She let out a sigh. “I was always the ugly duck. Never quite fitting in.”

He tried to follow her train of thought. “The ugly duckling that becomes a swan?”

“Not really. Sometimes, I feel like the wrong story was told with
The Ugly Duckling
. I keep thinking about a duck that was friends with the ugly duck and saw her friend transform into this beautiful white swan. And that duck kept waiting and waiting for it to happen to her, but it never did.”

“Your mind”—he lightly touched his finger to her forehead—“it’s fascinating how it works.”

“I’m just saying that I keep hoping for things, but they don’t happen. I don’t expect much. But I don’t expect to be taken advantage of, or to be played for the fool.”

“I wouldn’t do that.”

She arched her eyebrows. “We’ll see. I don’t put too much faith or trust in people. If we’re going to do this, I think there should be a few ground rules.”

“Rules.” He swallowed. Perhaps that would be for the best. It would establish things between them.

“My mom knows about us. She would like you to come over for dinner next weekend.”

“That doesn’t sound like a rule.”

“No, it’s not. Are we going to attend all family functions together?”

He thought about it. “Dinners and any type of celebration would be good, I think.”

“My cousin, Deb, is getting married on the beach on the Fourth of July.” She dropped the blade of grass, and it flitted to the ground. “Do you have any upcoming weddings?”

“My younger brother, Seth. End of June. I’m sure more will crop up.”

“Okay, so we’ve agreed that one rule is that we go to things together, family-wise and any other events. Like the Glorious Food festival on Saturday.”

“That sounds fine to me.”

“And I think that another rule is . . . well, it should be . . .” Ginny pressed her mouth together. “No sex.”

“No sex.”

“Absolutely no sex whatsoever. What happened two nights ago can never happen again. Especially since this is a fake relationship. Sex would just ruin things.”

“What type of sex have you been having?”

“Not much, remember?”

He stared at her, his throat suddenly dry. “No, you said you didn’t have one-night stands. Not that you didn’t have a lot of sex.”

She crossed her arms across her chest. “Does it really matter?”

“Yes. No. I don’t know.” He got up, pacing in front of her. “You’ve thrown a wrench at me.”

“How so? I’m still experienced. It’s not like you’re going to hurt me.”

“You’re right. We’re keeping this light and easy.” And this was going to help him. “No emotions whatsoever.”

“Exactly. No emotions.”

He glanced down at her hand and her short, unpainted fingernails. Heat spread from her touch, and he was tempted to close the distance between them and get burned. Instead, he moved away from her. “So you’re not going to get all clingy and change things up on me?”

“I’ll try and restrain myself from your charm.” Her hands clenched. “But, no. Because this is fake. It’s not like it’s real what we’re doing.”

Thank God for that. “Good. Because I’m not in this for the long haul. I’m leaving the end of August.”

“I know. You keep telling me
that
all the time.” Ginny studied him. “Just so you know, I’m not looking for anything serious either.”

“So we’re on the same page then.”

“Yes.” She blew out a relieved breath. “As long as we follow the rules, we’ll be fine. It’s a grown-up game of make believe. We’re just going to help each other out until we don’t need to anymore.”

Might as well bring it up. Because even if it this wasn’t real . . . people were going to think otherwise. If they played their cards right. And since he had grown up in Las Vegas, he knew exactly how to roll the dice. “What about touching? Kissing? We’re supposed to be a couple. People are going to expect a certain level of intimacy between the two of us.”

“We’re older. More mature.” Ginny bit her lower lip, drawing his attention there. “We could be a couple that isn’t that into PDAs.”

“Sugar, you don’t know me that well. If this was real, I would want my hands on you, and I’d be kissing you every chance I got.”

Her face flushed with color. “Except this isn’t real.”

“We should still kiss and touch. It doesn’t have to mean anything, and it doesn’t have to be anything obscene. Just holding hands. Soft pecks.”

“Well, you could be right. A peck—and nothing more—is fine.” She held out her hand. “Deal?”

He stared at her hand and snorted. He wanted to regain some control in this situation, but now wasn’t the time. He could make his point later on. So, instead of doing what he wanted to do, he enclosed her hand in his much bigger one.

“Aw, hell with it.” He dragged her to him, wrapping his other arm around her waist. “I think we should practice.”

“Is that really necessary?” she asked breathlessly. “I think we know we can kiss. It’s not like we haven’t done it before.”

“We haven’t pecked. Short and sweet.” He took in her darkening eyes, her parted mouth, and wondered if he could stop at the briefest of kisses. Only one way to find out.

He lowered his head, his lips glancing across hers like a butterfly briefly landing on a flower. She was sugar, so pure and tempting. He raised his hand to her face, cupping the sweet curve of her cheek. He brushed his thumb over her cheekbone, her skin so smooth and soft against his. He could get lost in her, and with that thought, he dropped his hand away.

All pretend, he reminded himself.

Her eyelashes fluttered, and her gaze met his. A flash of something—maybe panic—filtered across her expression. She broke from his hold. “I think we’ve got kissing covered. I think it best if we keep that to a minimum. If it gets too hot or too deep, one of us should have a code word to stop before we get ahead of ourselves.”

“Is this another rule?”

“No. It’s for safety. Preventive measures.” She placed her sunglasses down, covering her eyes. “Ducks.”

“Ducks?”

“Ducks,” she said. “Ducks will tell us when we should stop.”

“What about if we both want to go ahead?” He might as well broach the subject since she wasn’t going to do so. “What if we decide to repeat what we did already?”

“That’s not going to happen. Remember, pretend. Make believe.” She studied him. “I won’t do this if you want sex along with a pretend relationship. You don’t want anything real.”

“I’m not made for anything real.” His past relationships and what he’d seen of his parents’ fights over the years had soured him on love. “I don’t believe in love.”

“You’re right.” Her voice was bright. “I don’t want anything real right now either. So this deal between us is going to suit us both fine.”

“Exactly,” he said. That’s what he would keep telling himself. And it wasn’t like he’d gone without sex before. “We have a deal.”

“Yes.” Then she smiled. “But this time we don’t have to kiss on it.”