Page 9

Chapter 9

Moxie

I pull into the parking lot and check myself in the mirror before getting out. Why do you care what you look like? He’s a fake boyfriend. It’s day two, and I'm already seeing him for reasons outside of our agreement. Stopping into his office is not exactly showing me adventure, and it’s not doing anything to resolve parental rivalries, yet here I am.

I grab his suit jacket off my passenger seat and throw it over my shoulder so I can balance our coffees.

It’s a great location. A small strip mall on the edge of town, visible enough to draw traffic but far enough out that it’s probably convenient for their activities. Their brightly-colored signage is inviting, and had I known there was a bakery next to it that smells as heavenly as this one does, I would have gotten my coffee there.

I struggle with the door handle and my balanced coffees, and Wyatt’s partner who drove us to the rafting excursion jogs from his desk to come grab the door for me.

“Oh, hey Moxie,” he says. They must have dozens of new customers each week. I’m surprised he remembers my name, and I'm just the type of person to call him out on it.

“Either you’ve got an exceedingly good memory, or Wyatt’s been talking about me.”

His eyes widen and he laughs. “I plead the fifth.”

“I’m going to take that as he’s been talking your ear off. Sorry about that.”

“No, no. All good things,” he says.

“I’m sure. Can you remind me of your name? I’m sorry, I’m terrible with them.”

“So am I,” he admits, either just being nice or proving my point. “It’s Noah.”

“Ah yeah, that’s right. Is Wyatt around?”

He opens the door wider and steps aside to let me through. “Yep, he’s in the storage room. Wyatt! Someone’s here to see you!” he shouts.

“I could have gone back,” I say.

The door at the back of the office swings open, and Wyatt enters the room at a jog, skidding to a halt when he sees me. His face immediately lights up, wide smile, his dimples on full display. I get a little giddy at the knowledge it’s my presence that lights him up.

“Hey! Good to see you.”

I extend the cup of coffee I got him. “I didn’t know how you take it, so I took a wild guess.”

He takes a sip and smacks his lips. I’m pretty sure I could have filled that cup with mud, and he would have acted like it was delicious.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” He does a goofy little bow that makes me giggle. Ugh. Giggling is not in my usual range of vocal expression. Blech, what is happening?

I hold up his jacket. “Someone insisted I hang onto his jacket, even for the very brief walk from the car door to my building after the party the other night. I’m not making any accusations, but that might be something one would do if they were trying to create an excuse to see someone again.”

He presses a hand to his chest. “M’lady, I was merely concerned you’d catch a cold from the evening air! Can’t a guy look out for his girl’s wellbeing?”

“Oh geez,” Noah says with the kind of tone that manages to make his eyeroll audible. “I’m going to go... shine the carabiners. Or something. Anywhere else.”

“Do carabiners work better when they are shiny?” I ask.

“Nope.” Wyatt’s grin widens. How is he cute and hot at the same time?

“Right. Anyway, lots to unpack there. One, what’s with the bow and the m’lady?”

He shrugs. “I guess I'm just missing ren faires. Have you been to one of those?”

“Nope.”

“That’s an adventure for you. But it felt right. I was in the moment. Go with it.”

“Sure m’lord. Whatever you say.”

His eyebrows shoot upward. It sends a rush of heat through me, and not just a blush to my face.

“I like hearing you call me that.”

I give him a shove. “Don’t get carried away.”

“Sorry, my bad. Carry on. You were listing things.” He hops onto Noah’s desk with the kind of effortful jump a toddler might have required, but when he settles, his feet still wind up touching the ground, courtesy of those long legs.

“Two, a guy can look out for his girl’s wellbeing, but I suspect you had ulterior motives.”

“You make it sound so sinister. Is it a crime to want to see your beautiful face?”

“Flattery will get you nowhere. I’m already your fake girlfriend. You do realize we were going to have to see each other again anyway, right?” I ask.

“Yeah, but you had a look about you that said, ‘Maybe if I put this off, they’ll forget about it,’ and I wasn’t going to let that happen.”

My mouth falls slightly ajar before I snap it closed again. I hadn’t expected him to be able to read me that well. I one-hundred percent thought that. There’s a moment of silence while I recover, and he smirks at me like he’s won whatever game we’re playing.

“This wasn’t one-sided. You promised me adventure. I’m not going to let you get out of it that easily.”

The knowing way he tilts his head says he doesn’t believe me for a second, but he doesn’t argue further. “I haven’t forgotten. I’ve got plans for you, baby.”

“Which brings me to number three. I’m ‘your girl’ now, am I?”

“Caught that, huh?” he says.

“Indeed, I did.” I'm keeping it light, but I need to remind him this isn’t real. I’ll gladly have fun with him, but I like Wyatt, and I don’t want him having expectations for something I can’t give.

“Well, yes. You’re my girl, even if it’s fake and temporary. My mother would have my hide if I didn’t treat you right. Loaning you a jacket is the least I could do.”

A sheepish grin creeps across my face. I despise that my bar is so low, that a man wanting to put in the effort and treat me right gets me going. The warmth that spreads through me to have another person care is a strange but wonderful feeling. Once again, I need to reign in these feelings of affection. Fake boyfriends don’t cause flutters, and I'm going to have to be careful with this one if I'm going to stay unattached. He’s too quick with his words. It’s not easy to find someone who keeps me on my toes with banter, and I'm a sucker for it.

“Uh oh.” I follow his gaze over my shoulder, where a woman I’d place in her sixties with bright purple hair and a scowl on her face marches across the parking lot. That doesn’t look good. “Speaking of my mother... sorry about this.”

He stands back up, and even though he’s only been sitting for a minute, I blink at the sudden increase in height. It's jarring. He steps around me, placing himself between me and the Mama Bear headed our way.

“Wyatt Lucas MacGregor!” she shouts, and what is with all the shouty parents lately?

“Julie Eugenia MacGregor,” he calmly replies. She halts in her tracks, apparently thrown by her own full name.

“Don’t you middle-name me. You know I don’t like people knowing my middle name.” Honestly, I can relate to the name dislike, Mama MacGregor.

“Sorry. What’s with the purple?”

She glares. “I don’t want to go into it. Besides, you should compliment a lady, or if you have nothing nice to say, ignore it.” Apparently, Wyatt was right that his mom would take him to task for any perceived mistreatment. Wyatt is still the poster boy for chill, but his resigned sigh tells me that maybe he’d appreciate a reprieve.

“I think it’s a great look on you,” I say.

She startles as if just noticing me. To be fair, Wyatt is a bit of a tower, so I was obscured from view.

“Thank you, dear. It’s not staying. I grabbed the wrong box at the store. It’ll be gone in five to eight washes. I was planning on staying inside until it was gone, but you forced my hand.” She directs the last at her son.

How on earth she didn’t notice bright purple on the box is baffling until Wyatt says, “I told you that you need to go get an eye exam.”

“You know very well why I can’t.”

“Dr. Nelson isn’t the only optometrist in town, Mom.” A piece of the puzzle clicks into place. Hannah’s mom is also their optometrist.

“No, but she’s the best.”

“But if you refuse to see her, a subpar optometrist is better than not being able to see. If you couldn’t see the hair dye box, you probably shouldn’t be driving.”

“Mind your beeswax, son. You’re getting me off-track. Speaking of the Nelsons, you haven’t answered my calls. What were you doing at Hannah’s place of work last night? I thought you agreed it’s best to stay away from that girl.”

He sighs and rubs at the back of his neck. “There’s nothing wrong with Hannah.”

Ms. MacGregor let’s out a sob. “Don’t tell me you’re getting back with her. How could you betray us like that!”

“We’re not getting back together. She’s just a friend.”

“As if that’s any better! She broke your heart!”

I look to Wyatt for his reaction to this. Hannah gave the impression that though they’ve known each other for a long time, their relationship was brief and lacking chemistry. If that’s not the case, this whole dynamic is about to get much weirder. But he seems unphased.

“No, she didn’t. How did you even know I was there?”

“I was watching your location on my phone,” she says nonchalantly, and my skin pricks in alarm. It could have just been poor word choice, but the distinction between “watching” versus “saw” seems important.

Wyatt’s chest expands with a deep, steadying breath that is probably as close to worked up as this otherwise easy-going man gets. I'm not sure if I should run and hide or kick back with a bowl of popcorn.

“What? Why?” Wyatt asks between breaths, seemingly unable to string any more words together.

“Honey, I’ve had access to your location for years. It’s a safety feature.”

“I’m aware. I’m the one who shared it with you for convenience when I'm meeting you somewhere or if there was ever an accident on the mountain so you could notify the paramedics to save my life. Why were you looking at it yesterday?”

“Sometimes I like to watch your dot move. Like my own little Wyatt TV. When I saw you were at the casino, where Hannah works, I knew there was trouble a-brewin'.”

Whew boy, I am in over my head, and Wyatt seems to notice. He glances nervously in my direction. I’m not quite ready to throw out the man because of the mom, but this woman is... a lot.

Up until now, even after seeing Hannah’s mom’s reaction at the party, I still hadn’t quite believed that this feud was as terrible as they made it out to be. If Hannah’s parents are anything like this woman, I can understand why the idea of them wanting to move in with her would have her bringing out the desperate measures. Wyatt’s eyes are still on me, and I don’t know him well enough to tell if they’re pleading or commiserating.

I guess this is my cue, my part of the bargain. I hadn’t come here expecting to have to play this role so soon. We’ve discussed zero ground rules for this arrangement, but I’ve always said in interviews that I’m capable of hitting the ground running.

I step forward and loop one arm around Wyatt’s, my other hand out to her. “Hi, I’m Moxie.”

She blinks, and my existence is once again all it takes to derail her. Manners win, and she shakes my hand. “Hello, I’m Julie.”

“Nice to meet you. I’ve heard so much about you!” I don’t add that none of it has been great, although despite being obviously sick of the feud, Wyatt seems to care about his parents.

“How lovely. I’m sorry I can’t say the same.” She tosses Wyatt a look.

“No worries. I’m not surprised. We’re still new. I’m a dealer at the casino. Wyatt came as my date to our family night.”

“Oh.” The fight leaves her body, and her eyes go blank like they’ve shut off while her system recalibrates this new information. The moment passes, and she smiles. “A girlfriend! I can’t believe you didn’t tell me about this sweet young lady.”

She tugs me over to one of the chairs in front of the desk Noah was at earlier. She sits in the other and immediately launches a barrage of questions at me without pausing for me to answer. I look up, bewildered, and catch a glimpse of Noah at the door. He spots Wyatt’s mom and quietly reverses back through the door and out of sight. Take me with you, Noah!

Apparently in all those past job interviews when I said I could hit the ground running I was full of shit. I’m not equipped to be his fake girlfriend without preparation. I’m going to need a moment to adjust, and this woman in my face is making me feel like I can’t breathe.

“I have to get to work,” I blurt, even though I’m not due there for hours. I can’t tug Wyatt into a storage room to hide again, and if I try to face this now with a severe lack of conversation between him and I, I'm going to say something that blows it all up.

Julie frowns, and Wyatt mouths, “I’m sorry” from behind her.

“I’ll see you later?” he asks.

I’m in over my head. What have I gotten myself into? The words blare in my mind on repeat. I know my expression is dazed when it feels like fighting through fog to talk.

“Yeah. Maybe. Text me.”

“Okay,” he agrees.

“Nice to meet you,” I say to his disappointed mother, whose questions I've answered precisely none of.

Then, I bolt out the door.