Page 20 of Faking the Pass

Earning Her Keep

P resley

Rosie and I left the mansion together as cameras clicked all around us.

She still looked a little shell-shocked. Hell, I was sort of stunned myself.

I hadn’t come here today with the intention of getting engaged.

When that asshole had tried to claim her as his fiancée, even after all he’d done, something in me had just snapped.

Going with my gut had always served me well on the field, and I had no doubt it would be the same in this situation.

The plan really was an inspired one. If we were married, we couldn’t be compelled to testify against each other in the case Randy actually did pursue it in court.

I could rid myself of the constant pursuit of groupies and avoid the complications that came with having a real relationship. I’d be able to focus on my recovery and getting back on the field as soon as possible.

Rosie would look like a desirable, hotly pursued woman instead of a sad jilted bride. And hopefully the media would forget all about the disastrous near-miss marriage she was worried made her look foolish and focus instead on the sappy little high school sweethearts reunion story we’d hand them.

Hopefully it would help her career in some way. And Rosie would be safe from Randy, at least physically.

I owed her that much after how badly I’d behaved in high school.

“Are you dating?” one of the Hollywood press members called out to us.

“How long have you known each other, Presley?” another one shouted.

I just smiled, and when I saw Rosie staring at the ground, urged her to smile, too.

“You haven’t done anything wrong,” I said in a voice too low to be heard by the others. “Don’t act guilty. Smile and wave.”

She took my advice, lifting her head and giving the cameras a smile and a wave before climbing into the car through the door I’d opened for her. I slowly walked around to my side and got in, nodding to the cameras that followed my every move.

As we drove away together, both of us smiled at the media through the windows.

The ruse had begun.

“Now they’re dying to get our story,” I said.

Rosie looked at the rearview mirror, at the cars following us, and winced. “I am so sorry. You value your privacy so much. Now your life’s going to be bananas, too.”

“Nah. Don’t apologize. Like I said, it’s a win-win. Plus, they’ll get tired of us pretty quickly,” I told her. “A boring old ‘married couple’ isn’t going to hold the attention of the tabloid press for long.”

She nodded. “You’re right. There’s no scandal in that. So what’s the story? You came to my rescue after I ran away from my wedding, and then we… fell in love?”

“Fell back in love,” I corrected. “We’re high school sweethearts, remember?”

“Right. So if he really does file suit, I guess we can go to the courthouse and get married. Then when we’ve been married long enough to get through the trial and for the press to get bored with us, we file for divorce. You can get on with your life, and I’ll get on with mine.”

She’d been looking at her lap as she worked it out in her head. Now she turned to look at me.

“I promise I’ll stay out of your way—I know how much you hate distractions. We probably won’t even have to live together as long as we make a few public appearances.”

She wasn’t wrong, but a weird sense of annoyance scraped down my spine.

“Well, they’re going to be following us right at first,” I said. “So you should probably stay at my place for a while at least. Besides, you’re kind of broke, aren’t you? They’re not going to buy that we’re married if you’re sleeping on your friend Danielle’s couch in L.A. while I’m living here.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” She sounded so dejected.

The scrape became a clawing. I shifted in the driver’s seat, trying to dislodge the uncomfortable sensation.

“And I’m not sure a courthouse quickie is going to convince anyone,” I told her.

“How else would we do it?” she asked. “I don’t think I could stand to go through another performance ceremony with a cast of thousands. And I don’t want you to waste any of your money on a fake wedding. What would be the point?”

“We’ll do something small,” I said. “Don’t worry about it—I’ll take care of the details. You just do your part on social media to support the story. Did we ever take any pictures together back in high school?”

Rosie blushed deeply. “Maybe.”

Interesting. “There are pictures?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. After Mom died, I had all her photo albums scanned and put in the cloud. There might be something in there. I’ll see what I can find.”

“Great.”

We pulled into my driveway, and the automatic gate closed behind my car, shutting out the vehicles tailing us. On the other hand, the number of boats gathered in the cove had increased.

My private oasis was shot to hell, but at least the plan was working already.

I parked the car in the garage, and turned to Rosie.

“Welcome home.”

She blushed again and looked away, opening her car door with a brief, “Thanks.”

“I’ll go get all my stuff out of your room,” she said as she hurried inside. “It’ll only take a few minutes. Oh, and I’ll change the sheets. Where do you keep the clean ones?”

I followed her into the kitchen. She was acting odd.

“In the closet in the hallway. But you don’t need to do that. I can do it.”

“Don’t be silly. You’ve only got one working arm. Besides, I used to do it for a living… and I probably need the practice since I might be going back to my old ‘career.’”

Finally she faced me. “In fact, I can clean your house while I’m here. It’s the least I can do.”

“I don’t want you to do that, Rosie. I’ve already got a cleaning service, and besides, my wife wouldn’t be cleaning our house.”

She walked briskly to the hall closet, drawing out a set of sheets. “But it’s not ‘our house,’ and I’m not your wife. Not really.”

I followed her into the bedroom and watched as she ripped the sheets from the bed and started snapping new ones onto it like it was a matter of life and death.

“Have I done something wrong?” I asked. “You seem mad.”

She didn’t look at me, just kept working.

“No, of course not. You’ve just thrown yourself under the bus for me and offered to save my finances—possibly saved my life. It’s just, I have nothing to give you in return except for my services.”

Her head popped up, and her expression was horrified. “I mean my cleaning services.”

I watched for another minute, trying to figure out the source of her terror. Then it dawned on me.

“If you’re worried I’m going to demand you sleep with me or something as repayment, don’t be,” I said.

“Believe it or not, I can get sex anytime I want it—without coercion. And I don’t think we have to go that far to complete the illusion.

Unless you wanted to release a sex tape to the media to support our story? ”

“No, I didn’t think— don’t think—that’s the kind of arrangement you were expecting. I know you’re not interested in me that way.”

There it was again, the insinuation that there was no attraction between us.

I wasn’t sure where she’d gotten that idea, but at the moment, telling her how hot I thought she was didn’t seem like the right play.

Rosie was now going for a blushing world record. She gathered the used sheets in her arms and breezed past me to the doorway.

“Where’s your laundry room?”

“Straight down the hallway.”

She stuffed the sheets into the washer, added detergent, and started a load. Then she turned around and put her hands on her hips.

“Okay, what else? I know. I can vacuum, then I’ll mop. I can cook. And since you haven’t been here for about a week, the furniture probably needs dusting. After that I can—”

“Hold on.”

I walked down the short hallway, stopping right in front of her. She stopped babbling, but she was staring straight ahead at my chest instead of my face.

“Rosie,” I said. “Look at me.”

It took her a while, but finally she did. Her eyes were guarded when she lifted them to meet my gaze.

“What’s wrong?”

She shook her head, but I was not going anywhere until I got an answer. I was fine with standing here all day if that was what it took.

Apparently sensing my resolve, Rosie finally answered me.

“It’s just… I’m not sure how all this is supposed to work,” she said. “I may not have a life to get back to, but you do. And there’s no place for me in your world. I mean… what am I going to do with myself for the next few months? I have no job. I have no friends left here. I have no…”

Her voice choked off, and I rested my hands on her shoulders.

“You’re going to do anything you damn well please,” I said.

“You’re going to rest and read and sunbathe out on the rocks behind my house.

You’ll reconnect with your old friends—or make some new ones.

And you will be acting, in a way. We’ve got to go out and be seen together in public, and you’ll have to act like you can stand the sight of me. ”

She gave an unwilling chuckle. “Yeah, that’s going to be a real hardship.”

“You don’t know,” I said. “You haven’t smelled my sweaty workout gear yet.”

Rosie shook her head, looking at her feet again.

“Why are you being so nice to me, Presley? I mean, we barely knew each other in high school. After we broke up, you never even spoke to me again. You didn’t like me enough to even remember we took pictures together.”

Stifling a groan, I spoke through a throat that had gone thick and sore.

“I liked you,” I admitted. “A lot. What can I say? Teenage boys are idiots. The only pictures I cared about back then were of me throwing touchdowns.”

She snorted a laugh.

Encouraged, I went on. “I told you back at the mansion, and I meant it… you’re doing me a favor too, just by being here, okay? Consider your job title…”

I stopped and thought for a second. “Human shield. You’re too little to be a bodyguard, but you’ll make a great golddigger repellant.”

“So flattering,” she deadpanned, but there was a hint of life creeping back into her eyes.

Her tone turned hopeful. “Maybe we won’t even have to get married.”

“Maybe the celebrity shows and the tabloids will get tired of the story faster than we think,” she said. “And if Randy decides not to pursue the NDA thing in court, a fake wedding won’t even be necessary.”

That fingernails on a chalkboard feeling was back in my spine, and the soreness in my throat doubled.

She really didn’t want to be here.

I mean, I hadn’t asked for this either, but Rosie was acting like she was hoping for a stay of execution from the governor or something.

“Right,” I said. “Well, I’d better get in the lap pool. I’m behind in my daily routine.”

“Sure. Go ahead. I’m going to make some food for myself—I’ll make something for you too.”

“Actually I’m on a really specific eating plan, for my recovery you know, so I’ll just make something later.”

“Oh.”

She looked a little disappointed. She was probably still worried about earning her keep or some horseshit like that.

“I understand. Well, have a good swim. Like I said, I’ll stay out of your way.”

With the size and layout of this house, that was going to be impossible.

I was shocked to realize I didn’t mind the idea nearly as much as I thought I would.