Page 19 of Faking Time (The Steel City #2)

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

arden

I’m halfway through my shift when I’m called to the front desk.

Expecting a patient I have to tend to, I stop short when I see a tall, gorgeous man with a buzzed head of blond hair standing by the intake desk.

He’s in an olive green crewneck and light brown joggers, talking animatedly with Susan, who is eating it up, of course. I can’t blame her.

It’s Carter Forkerro.

He’s laying it on thick, too. All pearly whites and sparkly eyes.

Winks at her more than once, and I’ve only been standing here for a few seconds.

I’m not sure how he knows where I work. I’m positive I didn’t mention it, but still, I don’t like that he’s just showing up unannounced. And clearly, he’s asking for me.

I push through the ER doors and cross my arms in front of my chest. He and Susan glance my way. Susan’s eyes are full of awe and affection, looking at me with a sense of bewilderment. He has this effect on people.

Carter’s smile widens as he turns in my direction. There are two coffees in his hands, and he offers one to me .

I cock a brow, glancing from the takeout cup to his face. “What is this?”

“A coffee,” he explains with a smile, like he couldn’t read the context behind that question. He nods toward the exit doors of the hospital. “Can we chat?”

I frown. “I’m working.”

“Yeah, but you have a break.”

“Not right now,” I say, taking the coffee anyway.

“Yes, now,” he says, dipping his chin. “Susie, here, ratted you out. You haven’t taken one yet.”

I glare over at Susan, who grins madly at me. Oh, she’s been smacked in the face with Forkerro fairy dust. She sold me out to some strange man who came asking questions about me. Susan is a damn liability.

I take a sip of my coffee and wince. “Bitter.”

Carter deflates a bit, and I feel bad almost instantly.

“Shit, really? I got two milk, one sugar. The lady at the shop said that was the most common.”

“I require an immense amount of sweetness,” I say, sipping again. There are more sugars in the break room, or I could run to the cafeteria. It’s not the end of the world. All coffee is fixable.

The corner of his lip twitches upward, like he found a joke somewhere in that sentence but is choosing not to voice it. “I’ll remember that for next time. How many? Two?”

“Four.”

His eyes widen. “You’re a psychopath.”

“Me?” I balk. “You punch people. Frequently.”

He grins now, full on. “ ‘Frequently’ is a bit of a stretch.”

“Is it?” I cock a brow.

He huffs a laugh, nodding toward the doors. “Can we talk? I have something I want to run by you. It’ll only take a few minutes. ”

“Fine,” I grumble, shooting one last look at Susan. We’re going to talk about this later. I gesture down the hall, away from the ER. “Let’s go to the cafeteria, though. They’ll have some sugar on hand so I can tolerate this coffee while I pretend to tolerate you.”

“Aw, Red,” he muses, placing a hand over his heart. “That might be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

We walk to the cafeteria side-by-side. Carter gets a lot of looks, more than he even seems to realize.

Kids gawk at him as they stroll by. Grown men physically trip over their feet.

Nobody stops us, and that’s probably for the best. People tend to mind their business in hospitals. Who knows why Carter is actually here?

“So,” Carter says as we descend the wide staircase, “I came up with an idea after last night.”

“A rarity,” I mutter, and he only smiles. He gets my humour, which makes me like him a tad bit more. Doesn’t take anything to heart, this one.

“I have my moments.”

When we finally reach the cafeteria, I grab three packages of sugar out of the container and tear them open. I glance back at him. That annoyingly perfect face is all sunshine and rainbows as he waits.

“Go on, then.” I sigh, shaking the sugar into my coffee. “What’s this grand idea?”

“We should probably sit.”

“That doesn’t bode well for me.”

“Just humour me,” he says softly, shrugging. “Please?”

We find a table at the back of the cafeteria, near the floor-to-ceiling windows that let the sun poke through and warm the place.

He looks a bit nervous to finally be sitting across from me, which again, makes me feel uneasy.

Carter is the picture of ease and arrogance at all times, but right now, he looks unsteady.

“Before I start, I want you to know that I’m coming at this from a place that is non-judgemental, but entirely beneficial for both of us.

” He holds out his hands and my nerves prickle at the back of my neck.

This sounds like it’s going to be an awful idea.

“It doesn’t mean that I think you need help, or that you’re incapable of handling your shit on your own, because you’re a boss. Of course you can.”

I tap my fingers against the side of my cup. I swear to god, if this guy brings up my living situation again, I’m going to lose it.

Carter shuffles forward a bit. He leans in toward me and lowers his voice. “I need to show the world I have a girlfriend, Arden. They aren’t calming down and it’s only going to get worse when the details of those charges are finally made public, which they will be.”

I try not to flinch at that reminder. I know he’s drowning in speculation.

Depending on the angle this guy tries to spin, it might wipe Carter out and demolish his reputation.

Maybe his career. Of course, there’s a chance it all might quiet down and everyone will forget it, but with his career on the line, I don’t blame him for wanting to get ahead of it.

“Do me a solid. Be my faux girlfriend for a few months. Maybe for the season,” he pleads, hands still outstretched like he knows this is a desperate attempt that will not come to fruition.

“Faux?” I arch a brow.

He shrugs. “I thought it sounded nicer. Better than fake. Bougie.”

I shake my head, breathing out a laugh. Even though I resent this idea, I can sympathize with him. I know how much it means to him, and I was a part of the disaster that led him here, worrying he’s going to lose everything he’s worked for.

I can’t fault him for it, but that doesn’t mean I have to agree to it, either.

“Can you find someone else?”

His lips press together tightly. “Nah. If there’s a video or some picture that surfaces, it’ll be easy for people to piece together that it’s a lie if it’s anyone but you.”

Damn. He’s right. Too risky.

I nod, but I wish the answer was different. “Carter…”

“Mutually beneficial,” he interrupts, those blue eyes melting my cold front. “Remember?”

“I don’t need dinners, parties, or hockey games,” I explain to him, and he nods, like he expected me to say that.

“I’ve got a lot going on. All of that time can be spent working overtime.

Picking up shifts. You and I value different things.

I don’t have the free time to entertain this idea in a way that will satisfy you. ”

“I know,” he says quietly. “That’s not what I’m offering.”

I bring my coffee to my lips, sugar exploding through my tastebuds the second it hits my tongue. “Then what are you offering?”

I ask like I care. The answer is always going to be no, no matter what he suggests.

Unfortunately, I kind of like the guy now, so I will hear him out, but I wasn’t lying.

I need to use my free time to work more.

Sad, I know, but with what Serena and Anya want to do, and with my dad only getting worse by the day, I need to make money.

“I pay your father’s medical bills,” he says.

I drop the coffee. I literally drop it onto the table and it explodes, sending hot liquid cascading across the surface. Cursing, I jump to a stand, narrowly avoiding a mess on my scrubs .

Carter is already up and across the room, returning with napkins and a weary look. He wipes up the mess while I gawk at him.

What the hell did he just say?

I’m still standing there when he tosses the napkins in the trash and sits again, gesturing for me to follow suit.

I can’t.

Pay for my… Is he insane ? Does he understand how much those bills are? How much money he’d need to fork over to get me out of this financial hellhole I’m living in? I don’t think he comprehends exactly what he just offered to me.

“ What ?” I finally manage to say.

He nods and points at my chair again, so I sit.

“I’ll take care of your father’s bills. Each month, send me the totals, and I’ll cover them.” He says it like it’s nothing. Like that will be easy. Like it’s one hundred dollars, not thousands and thousands of them.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Fuck off. No ,” I snap, but he doesn’t back down. He just sits there, expectantly.

“I need your help. Badly. You help me and I’ll help you. It’s a reasonable deal.”

“Carter, that’s a lot of money.”

“I know,” he says, nodding at me. “It’s fair. You’ll be saving my life, Red. It’s not like I’m doing it out of the goodness of my heart. It’s an exchange.”

A bit unbalanced to be an exchange, isn’t it?

“I don’t think you understand,” I murmur.

“I do,” he says. He places his hand over the rim of his own cup, looking earnest. “We can do this until the end of the year and revisit it then, but I think this is a deal that can significantly help us both. If you want to lay down some ground rules, that’s another discussion, but that’s my offer.

Each month where you’re my faux girlfriend, I’ll cover your dad’s bills. ”

I can’t stop staring at him. My heart is hammering against my chest, my head reeling.

I feel a bit off-kilter, like I actually might faint.

My eyes are burning a bit too, but I’ll be damned if I cry in front of him two days in a row.

He can’t just…offer me that, can he? That doesn’t happen in real life.

I have to act like a very famous, very handsome, and very desired man’s girlfriend, and he is going to save my life in exchange? That deal is completely unfair. I reap way more benefits than he does, but he seems to understand that. He seems to have thought this through.

“I can’t accept that. I won’t.”

He stares at me. “Yes, you can.”

I don’t do handouts. I’ve never allowed myself to.

That’s what runs through my head. But I already know what he’ll say. It’s not a handout. It’s payment. It’s essentially a weird girlfriend-for-hire contract, where instead of paying me in cash, he’s bringing all of my upcoming medical bills to a zero balance.

A zero balance.

Which means I can actually start paying off the rest of them that have already piled up.

I haven’t had a single month where I haven’t owed thousands and thousands of dollars since I was twenty-three.

“Think about it, okay?” he says, offering me a gentle smile. “I know I just threw that at you out of nowhere. Take your time. You know my number, Red.”

He moves to stand and I just stare straight ahead. When he reaches my side, he hesitates for a beat and then places his hand on my shoulder, giving me a gentle shake.

I reach up and do something that makes him freeze. Still staring straight ahead, I place my hand over his and give it a soft pat. I feel his gaze on my face, but I can’t meet his eyes. I’ll combust, I’m sure of it.

“Thanks for the coffee, Carter.”

He squeezes my shoulder. “Next time, try to keep it in the cup.”