MY FAKE FIANCÉ (The Greene Family #8)

Chapter 2

Three years ago…

Rain pelts the windows of the reception area of the inn. I still have a handful of rooms available for the night, but I’m doubtful anyone will be passing through town at this time. Still, I have one reservation pending that I’ve been trying to stay open for. I called the number, but it went straight to a generic voice mailbox.

I finish the dusting, the last cleaning job I have to do for the night, and I look out the window. The town is quiet, as it usually is at this time of night. With the rain, everyone is probably inside.

A set of headlights shine through the window, and I pull away to keep from being seen, as if I’m this person’s mother staying up waiting to make sure they made it home. I position myself behind the counter, pretending I’m doing something on the computer, when I’m really just playing my tenth game of solitaire. It’s a ploy I use often so the guests don’t feel the need to fill in the silence.

The chime on the door rings and the guest steps into the small area. I glance up and instantly force myself to look back down. This man is tall, though I can’t see his face with his hood up. Trails of water run down his jacket, dripping onto the floor.

“I’m so happy you’re still open. I was worried I wouldn’t make it and my phone died.” He holds up his cell phone.

“Good thing you made a reservation. As long as we have you down, we try to wait until you arrive.”

He pushes the hood of his gray rain slicker off his head, and wow… this man is gorgeous. He has a beard that he keeps trimmed close, long hair pulled back in a ponytail, and even with the layers of clothes, it’s clear he’s muscled underneath. “You’re like an angel after what I went through to get here.”

I smile and pretend I’m just now getting him booked in when I actually did it an hour ago. “Did the bridge go out again?”

He shakes his head. “I came from the other way, but from what I heard on the scanner, the sheriff was going to go have a look at it.”

“Are you a police officer?” If he worked with my stepbrother Fisher, I would know about this man.

He laughs, and it echoes through the stillness of the room. Sobering, he responds. “No, but I have to know what’s going on in the area with what I do for a living, so I tend to listen just to make sure I’m not heading in a direction I shouldn’t.”

I type a few more fake keystrokes. “What is it you do? Do you want me to charge the credit card you have on file?”

“Please.” He nods. “I’m a photographer for National Geographic. Technically, I’m just a photographer. They contract me for anything up in Alaska. But I travel all over for my work.”

“That’s an exciting job. Other than those crab fishermen from the reality show, we don’t get people who travel outside of Alaska very often.” I slide his key over the counter, and he nods in thanks.

“It’s not all great. At first when I was younger it was, but it can be lonely too. This last trip, I spent a month in a tent just to get the one shot I wanted.”

“One shot?”

He shrugs his big shoulders. “See. Lonely.”

“What do you do the whole time?”

He picks up his bag. “I take other pictures, but there’s a lot of reading, sleeping. I can’t even get a signal most times.”

“Well, you’re in room two oh six. Get a good night’s sleep and come down for breakfast in the morning.”

He looks around and bites his bottom lip. “Do you happen to have anything I could snack on?”

“You’re hungry?”

He nods, but there’s a pinkness on his cheeks that suggests he’s embarrassed. “My mom would smack me across the back of the head for asking, but it was a long ride down here from up north. The rain slowed me down. I didn’t want to stop because I was afraid you’d be closed by the time I arrived. I’ll take some crackers or something. Whatever’s easiest.”

“Um…”

Usually, I’m very rule oriented. I don’t open the kitchen for late guests because if the other guests get wind of it, they’ll expect the same thing.

“Please,” he says, putting his hands together in a prayer pose.

“Okay, why don’t you go upstairs and get settled? I can cook something up for you quickly. Anything in particular you want?”

“Thanks.” The relieved breath that leaves his mouth says he’s appreciative. “Don’t go to too much trouble. I’m an easy guy.”

“Easy, huh?” One corner of my lips lift in a smirk.

His gaze fixates on my lips for a second and my body reacts as if he holds special powers over it, a zing of electricity racing through me from head to toe.

A sly grin crosses his lips. “Not that kind of easy, but it has been a long, celibate couple of months.”

I smile. “Well, I’ll feed you then.”

He chuckles.

“A meal. I’ll feed you a meal.”

Again, his gaze runs over my body. I can’t be the only one who feels this connection between us, right?

He steps back from the counter. “I’ll go get settled.”

I watch him walk up the stairs so quietly that I smile because he’s being respectful of the other guests. It can’t be easy for a body as big as his to move around quietly.

I step around the counter, walk over to the door, and put up the closed sign, then I lock the front door and turn off the lights in the reception area before heading to the kitchen.

Francois would hate that I’m in his kitchen. The last time I cooked pancakes for myself, he said I was never to enter his kitchen again. And he’s not wrong. Although I’m the most responsible Greene when it comes to most things, cooking never really jived with me. My mom tried to have me help her when she had her salad dressing company, but I mixed up the french dressing and Italian dressing ingredients, causing her to have a lot of product she had to toss.

For family holidays, I always pick something I can buy, or sometimes Francois is nice enough to make me a dish to bring and share.

I should’ve paid more attention because now I have a hot guy asking for something to eat, and I have to come up with something. I never should’ve said the phrase “the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach” is stupid—it’s like the universe is giving me karmic payback.

“Thinking hard there?” His deep voice surprises me as I stand in front of the industrial fridge with both doors open, unsure what to take out. “Do you mind?”

He pushes off the doorframe and crosses the room in what feels like two strides due to his long legs.

“I can do it. I was just thinking what you might like.”

He slides by me and our bodies brush. We both still for a moment and I suck in a breath. I haven’t felt this kind of immediate attraction to a guy, ever. Maybe because I’ve known every guy in town for most of my life, but it’s like this guy brought jumper cables with him and revived every nerve ending in my body.

“An omelet is easy.” He smiles at me with some eggs in his hand.

“What would you like in it?”

After setting down the eggs, he returns to the fridge and takes out mushrooms, green peppers, and goat cheese. “I’m good with these. You take it easy. I can do this. In fact, if you want to head to bed…”

I raise both eyebrows. I might have an instant attraction to the man, but I’m not stupid enough to leave him alone in my kitchen.

He chuckles. “Is it odd that I feel like I already know you?”

“A little.” I’m not going to tell him I feel the same way. “Small towns can do that to people.”

“I’m Noah, by the way.” He cracks an egg, so instead of a handshake, I get a wink that makes my lady bits go crazy.

“Mandi. Amanda.”

“Which one do you prefer?” He takes a fork and whips the eggs.

I shrug. “Everyone calls me Mandi.”

“Okay, Mandi it is.”

I pull a pan from the hanging organizer and pass it to him.

He plops a pat of butter in it. “Are you hungry, Mandi?”

I shake my head. “No, I already ate dinner.”

He exaggerates a glance at the clock on the wall. “It’s way past dinner. Come on. I promise you’ll love it.”

The goat cheese doesn’t look very appetizing, but I’ve never been a very picky eater.

“Don’t answer, I’ll make enough for both of us.”

I lean along the counter and watch him chop the vegetables, crumble the cheese, and when his forearm tightens with the flip of the omelet, I’m worried that I’m drooling. Francois has never gotten me hot the way I am watching Noah right now.

“What would you like to drink?” I open the beverage fridge.

“Just a juice. Orange?”

I grab a bottle of orange juice and a water for myself. He plates the omelet, then puts the ingredients he didn’t use back in the fridge.

“Forks?” He opens the wrong drawer, so I open the correct one and take out one fork since I don’t plan on eating anything. He clears his throat and reaches past me to grab another one.

“You are a flirt, aren’t you?” The question leaves my mouth and I feel heat rush into my cheeks. Did I actually just say that?

He stills and looks down at me. Down because he is dreamy tall. “Only when I’m alone in a kitchen with a gorgeous woman.”

My knees grow wobbly under his gaze. I open my mouth to respond, but nothing comes out.

He chuckles and moves past me into the dining room. I’m frozen for a moment. Never has anyone made me feel so wanton in such a short amount of time. For a second, I wonder if this is what Chevelle feels like all the time. Guys watch her cross a room when she’s never even spoken a word to them.

I take a seat at the table across from him, and he forks off a piece of the omelet and holds the fork toward me. “Ladies first?”

I open and he slides the fork into my mouth. My lips cover the metal and bring the omelet into my mouth. He watches me the entire time I chew.

“It’s really good.” And I’m not lying. “The goat cheese brings a unique flavor that complements the egg.”

He forks off a much bigger piece for himself. “You sound like you’re a judge and I’m going up against Bobby Flay.”

I laugh before taking a sip of my water. “I’ve just never heard of goat cheese in an omelet, that’s all.”

“Then I’m glad you’ll always remember me when you hear goat cheese and omelet together. It’s a trend that’s on the rise, just wait and see.”

I chuckle while he hands me the second fork. I’d prefer for him to feed me, but that’s ludicrous since we’re strangers.

We finish eating, chatting about Sunrise Bay. He’s only here for the night because he has to catch a flight to go do another job.

“Where are you from?” I ask when we’re finished, as I put the dishes in the sink.

“Little bit of everywhere. I have a small place in New York City, but half the time I’m subletting it to my friends and colleagues.”

I can’t imagine what it would be like not being surrounded by family all the time. Sunrise Bay is not only my home, but my entire family lives here—except for my dad, but I don’t much care about him.

We walk up the stairs and I stop at his room. He inserts his key and I glance in and see his suitcase on the chair in the corner.

“This is me,” he says.

I chuckle since I’m the one who assigned him the room. “I’m down the hall in the employee room.”

“Don’t go sneaking into my room in the middle of the night, Mandi.”

I laugh, unsure what to say.

“Thanks for a great night after a shitty day. I’ll give you five stars on Yelp,” he says.

“Thank you.” I take a step down the hall. “Good night, Noah.”

“Good night.” He stands in the open doorway, watching me.

I walk to my room at the far end of the hall, the one whoever is working the overnight stays in. Opening the door, I glance over my shoulder and see him still staring at me.

“I have this sudden urge to listen to ‘Mandy’ by Barry Manilow now,” he says.

I shake my head. “Rumor is that song is about a dog.”

“Really? Well, that’s disappointing. See you next time I’m up north.”

I wave. “Bye, Noah.”

I hurry into my room and shut the door before falling on the bed. Did that actually happen? I’m not in some weird movie where this was all a dream, right?

I pull out a hair on my forearm. Ouch. Okay, Noah is very real. Even if he does seem like my dream man.