Page 7 of Pretty Desperate (Pine Village #6)

JILLIAN

B y Wednesday morning, I’m having a nervous breakdown. Even Lisa, my weekday part-time employee, has noticed. She’s watching me, waiting for the moment I completely meltdown.

Why, you ask?

Because I can’t stop thinking about the kiss.

Oh, and the fact I’m about to lie to everyone I know and love.

But also the kiss.

It consumes my every thought, both waking and not.

So much so my vibrator is getting a workout.

In just three short nights, I’ve used that bad boy five times, and I still feel unsatisfied.

I’m starting to wonder how I’m going to survive fake dating this man, to be honest. He seems to set my nerve endings on fire.

Not to mention what he does to my panties.

I toss the burnt cookies into the trash and prepare to start over.

Cookies are a huge hit for my business, especially after the breakfast crowd winds down.

Not only are they easy to make, but they’re also great for grab and go.

Offices will pick up a dozen for staff, or those having lunch at the Mexican restaurant or diner will stop by on their way back to work and pick up an afternoon snack.

I’m mad at myself. I was so distracted, thinking about the kiss I have no business thinking about, I forgot to set my timer. I never forget to set my timer. Ever. It’s one of the main steps in preparing baked goods.

Grabbing the dry ingredients, I start to prepare another batch. Just as I’m tossing chocolate chips into the bowl, I hear, “Jillian, you have a visitor.”

I glance up and find Lisa standing in the doorway separating the front of the bakery from the kitchen. “What?”

She steps aside, awarding me sight of the man standing off to the side of the counter. Kameron is looking at me over Lisa’s shoulder, holding a steaming cup of coffee.

“Oh, uh, he can come back,” I say, my brain scrambled the moment I spot him standing there.

She grins and wiggles her eyebrows. “Go ahead and go on back,” she says to Kameron, blatantly checking out his ass as he passes by. She meets my gaze and mouths “Oh my God!” before returning behind the counter to help customers.

Kameron slowly approaches, glancing into the trash bin beside the island workstation in the middle of the kitchen. “Problem?”

I huff. “Even cookies come out bad every now and again.” I refuse to tell him the real reason for my cookie flop.

“I can understand that,” he states, leaning against the island and sipping his coffee. My eyes are drawn to his free hand, how big it is sitting casually on top of the stainless-steel island. His fingers look strong and deft, and I can imagine him using them for… other things. Inappropriate things.

“What brings you by?” I ask, my heart hammering in my chest. I’m usually a pretty calm and collected woman, but being around him since the kiss is messing with me.

“Well, I was thinking last night,” he starts.

Sure, he was thinking, while I was masturbating…

“I wanted to see if you were available for dinner tonight.”

My heart? It literally stops beating in my chest. I fully expect to drop dead any moment from shock. “Really?”

He nods, taking another sip of coffee. “I have to work, but Marlin can man the grill for a bit while we talk.”

Talk. Right.

“Sure, that sounds fine,” I reply with a bit too much pep. I sound like I just downed a few shots of espresso.

“I figured we need to just discuss our lives a bit more, you know? We have to make this believable, so I need to know more about you,” he reasons.

“That makes sense,” I agree.

“Okay, good. What time do you want to eat?”

“Umm, well, I usually eat a little on the early side, since I go to bed around eight.”

His eyes widen. “Eight? At night?”

“Well, I don’t go to bed at eight in the morning,” I retort, unable to hide my sarcasm or my grin.

Kameron shakes his head and laughs. “Yeah, that was a stupid question. It just surprised me. My restaurant is still going strong at eight.”

It’s probably the first time either of us has truly considered the differences in our businesses. While we are similar in certain areas, we’re worlds apart in what we offer on the menu and the hours we keep. Fake dating this man might be more complicated than I originally expected.

“Well, you know what they say, opposites attract,” he adds with an uncomfortable chuckle. Clearly he’s noticing one glaring difference in our businesses too. It might be hard to date someone—even fake dating—when the hours he’s available are night and day different than when I am.

“It’s only for a short time though, so I’m sure it’ll be fine. We really only have to convince them we’re together for a few weeks or months, right? We can easily stay in the getting to know each other phase.”

He nods in understanding. “I think you’re right. Anyway, what time would you like to eat tonight? And do you have any dislikes or allergies?”

“Not really. I’ve eaten at your restaurant before, and I don’t think there was anything on the menu I wouldn’t eat. Except fish. I don’t mind shrimp, but I’m not a huge fish girl.”

The corner of his mouth curls up in a smirk. “You haven’t had any of my fish. I assure you; you’d like it.”

Something tells me I’d like anything he placed in front of me.

“I’ll steer clear of fish for tonight, but one of these days, I’ll make you some of my specialties,” he states proudly, as if knowing I’ll like them over any previous fish dish I’ve ever tried. “You pick the time.”

“Is five too early or inconvenient?” I ask.

“No, that’s fine. We’ll start to pick up a bit around six, but since it’s off-season now, it won’t be too bad. Marlin can handle it in my absence.”

“All right, five it is.”

“I’ll tell Veronica to expect you.”

“Sounds good,” I say, reaching for the bowl to mix the ingredients together.

“Too bad I wasn’t a little later, huh? I could have stolen one of those cookies on my way out,” he says with a playful grin and a wink. “Have a good day, Jilly.”

“Bye.” I admit, when he turns around and walks out of my kitchen, my eyes land firmly on his ass. It’s a phenomenal rear end, one you could probably bounce a quarter off. Unlike mine, which has a little extra jiggle, thanks to all the dessert sampling I do.

Lisa comes scurrying back here the moment Kameron exits the building. “Please tell me that was personal,” she murmurs with a wicked glint in her eyes.

I shrug, not wanting to get into it right now, but know I’ll have to start the lie at some point. “We’ve been…talking.” That was the best way to describe it.

“Good for you. Any man who can cook the way he can moves right to the top of the list.”

I don’t comment, just keep my focus on my cookies so I can get them in the display case. It won’t be long and customers will be stopping in, looking for them.

“Oh, there’s someone else here to see you,” she says, grabbing my attention once more.

“Really?”

Two visitors in one day? That’s unheard of for me.

“Yeah, some guy named George Riley. Not as good looking as Kameron, but he’s wearing a suit and has that intense banker appearance,” Lisa says with a shrug.

Grabbing a hand towel, I wipe off my hands. “What the hell is an intense banker appearance?” I ask.

That question seems to stump her a bit. “I’m not sure. Maybe not so constipated?”

I roll my eyes. “I really only know one banker, and that’s Mr. Jefferson.” His family has owned the local bank since it started in the nineteen fifties. I think his grandson is one of the loan officers now, and his son vice president.

“Me too,” she concedes. “Anyway, George Riley’s out here for you.”

I nod and follow her out of the kitchen.

The man standing at the counter isn’t anything like Kameron.

Where Kameron has that tall, dark, and handsome thing down pat, George is anything but.

He’s not nerdy per se, but he definitely screams office guy.

Lisa’s right, he screams banker in his gray department store suit and red tie with what appears to be a stain on it.

“Miss Kirby, I take it?” he asks, pushing his glasses up on his nose and offering me his hand.

“Yes.”

“I’m George Riley.”

I wait a few seconds, hoping he gives me a little more information other than his name.

“Your parents didn’t tell you I was stopping by?”

My parents?

“Uhh, no, they didn’t. Is everything all right?”

“Oh, yes. We go to church together,” he offers in way of explanation. He glances around. “Would you like to sit?”

I turn toward the front windows, to the small bistro tables, which are empty. “Sure,” I reply, heading over to the farthest table. If I’m about to have bad news delivered, I don’t want an audience.

“This place is cute,” he says after taking a seat across from me.

“Thanks.” I still have no clue what he’s doing here, but I don’t have a good feeling.

“Well, if your parents didn’t mention I was stopping by, this is probably a little awkward for you.”

I swallow hard and knot my fingers together on my lap. “A little.”

“Your parents thought we should meet.”

I feel my mouth fall open and dread fill my entire being. “My parents?” I whisper, knowing what’s to come, but praying I’m wrong.

He gives me a sheepish grin and shrugs. “I’m their accountant. They wanted me to stop by and meet you, said you’d be expecting me. They offered a coffee date.”

My eyes are about to pop out of my head. “A date? But I’m working.”

He shrugs. “They said you’d be willing to take a break for a bit. I apologize if this is blindsiding you.”

My mouth resembles a fish out of water. I don’t know what to say, what to do.

My parents sent a strange man into my business for a…

date? When they were talking Sunday about setting me up, pushing for the whole marriage and grandkids thing, I never really expected them to follow through with their suggestions.

Believe me, they’ve offered lists of available, single men in both Pine Village and neighboring Hudson in the past, and now here we are.

Sitting right smack-dab across from George, their accountant.