S elma’s robin egg-blue Fiat 500 zipped through Hope Valley’s morning traffic as she sang along to a compilation of her favorite boy-band tracks. What she lacked in talent, she made up for in enthusiasm .
She was usually cheerful on her way to work. What she’d told Frankie was true—she did love helping people, and she enjoyed the flexible hours. As long as you clocked in thirty-eight hours each week, you could more or less choose your hours, which meant that sometimes she’d work four days, then take a three-day weekend. It paid really well too, since the company had a hard time staffing the department .
Today, her cheerfulness was on a whole new level. He said yes! she told herself over and over, barely able to believe that Frankie had agreed to help her, especially since he’d been so mad at her the day before .
She arrived at the business park where the energy company’s corporate office was located with seven minutes to spare. Sitting in the parking lot, she could hardly contain her excitement as she emailed the photo of herself and Frankie directly to the color printer on her floor .
She got out of her car and raced inside to the print room. She pressed her company ID card against the receiver on the printer, accessed her print job, and exactly five seconds later, the four-by-six image emerged on a sheet of paper with a whoosh and a tang of hot ink. She slid it into the guillotine and trimmed away the white edges, then examined her handiwork. It wasn’t ideal—it had obviously been printed on copier paper instead of glossy photo paper, but it’d do for now. The important thing was that it gave her the proof she needed to shut up all the gossips .
She scampered over to her seat that was located more or less in the center of 12 long banks of desks in the open-plan room. Some of her colleagues complained about the lack of privacy, about how there weren’t even any dividers between the desks. But she enjoyed being surrounded by people all day long—that was, until she’d told that stupid lie about her relationship, and all she’d wanted since then was to hide from the world. Well, now she could hold her head up high. She sat down and slipped the photo into the fluffy pink frame that her friends had given her. As an afterthought, she planted a kiss just below Frankie’s face, leaving a red lipstick imprint. Perfect .
She turned on her computer, a mere moment before the oversize digital timer that sat at the bottom of her screen that recorded the length of every call clicked onto the hour. She picked up her headset and put it on, adjusting it carefully over her hairstyle, and shortly after, the first bleep of the day sounded in her ears, signaling an incoming call. She pressed the “answer call” button .
“PPQ Energy, customer satisfaction team. This is Selma. How can I help you?” she said with more enthusiasm than she’d felt in a long time .
All of her calls that morning were easily resolved, and she was so cheerful she lost track of time until her best work friend, Luciana, swung by her desk, waving to her. Luciana was as short as she was and a little curvier with broad hips and a full cleavage that she often flaunted in low-cut tops. Her dark brown hair was cut short and she had olive-toned skin and chocolate-brown eyes that were always sparkling with mischief .
Somehow, three hours had elapsed, and it was time for Selma’s first break of the day. She pressed the “comfort break” button on her phone console, and as she was getting to her feet, Luciana let out a scream .
Selma startled, and several heads turned in their direction, but when she saw that Luciana was lunging for the photo frame, she burst into giggles .
“Oh, my freaking God,” Luciana whispered, staring at the photo. “You said he was sexy, hun, but he is off the scale!” Her tone was reverent, as if she was regarding the face of a deity. “And he’s so into you. You can really tell .”
Selma’s stomach gave a little lurch, but she chose to ignore it. “I know, right? He’s so romantic.” She took the photo from Luciana’s hands and laid it on the desk again. “Let’s go outside .”
“Nuh-uh. We’re not leaving this baby behind .”
Before Selma knew it, the damned photo frame was in Luciana’s hands again. “You know how long me and the girls have been waiting to lay eyes on this hunk of yours? I’m not gonna deprive them any longer !”
There was no point trying to argue with Luciana when she was on a mission. Sighing, Selma followed her friend’s swinging hips to the tiny kitchen where they collected their mugs and made cups of tea, then they went out through the rear doors of the building to the smokers’ corner. Neither of them smoked, but most of their friends did, so they always joined them, huddling in a spot under an overhanging roof, twenty feet or so from the dumpsters, gossiping and catching up on each other’s lives .
As they approached the smoker’s corner, Luciana passed her mug to Selma to keep her hands free for the necessary announcement, and Selma was dismayed to note that several of their friends were already gathered there .
“Ta-da-da-da-dah!” Luciana sang, holding the fluffy pink frame up like it was a religious offering. “Look-ee here!” Everyone turned in their direction, and the area was immediately full of shrieks and whistles .
“Mmm, so, the mysterious Bert does exist,” Joan Simmons drawled. “I was starting to think he was a fragment of your imagination, Silly.” She winked, sidling up to Selma, then elbowed her in the ribs. Selma managed a thin smile while cringing inwardly. Frankie was going to be delighted when she told him he had a brand-new name .
“He is dreamy,” Lorene commented, taking the frame and peering at the photo .
Everyone took their turn, leering at Frankie as lecherously as any guy on a building site gawking at a passing girl. Selma was hit by alternate waves of pride and shame that left her cheeks glowing. She wished so bad he really was her boyfriend and she could show him off for real. But he was way out of her league. He was a hundred times better looking than the genuine Bert Smithers .
She was mightily relieved when Lorene’s watch beeped, signaling it was time to return to their desks. They trooped back inside, making a detour to the kitchen to drop off their mugs on the way .
“Ooh, I can’t wait to meet him at the party tomorrow, see if he’s as good looking as his photo!” Renata, the most excitable gossip of all the girls, squeaked with a little wiggle in her skinny hips as they passed through the banks of desks on their way back to their seats .
Shit . In all the excitement, Selma had completely forgotten the engagement party was the following day. Well, no big deal. Frankie had already offered to attend. She’d call him during her late lunch break and tell him. Or, better yet, swing by her house and tell him in person, which would have the additional benefit of avoiding any further scrutiny by her friends .
* * *
T hree hours later, Selma unlocked the wrought-iron gate at the side of her house and slipped down the narrow passageway. Her stomach was jumping with nerves, as yet another uncomfortable thought had occurred to her during the drive from her office. She was debating whether to come clean about it now, or let it work itself out later. As a peace offering, she was carrying a large cola with lots of ice, and a bag of donuts .
Frankie was hammering nails into some wooden planks and didn’t seem to have noticed her entrance. Damn. He looked unbelievably sexy, laboring with his shirt off in the afternoon sun, his bronzed body slick with perspiration n. She paused to watch him for a moment. Why not? It wasn’t hurting him. But her tongue was practically hanging out as her eyes feasted on those bulky muscles rippling and flexing with every movement. He seemed to be building the floor for the gazebo—a square platform constructed from planks of reddish-brown wood .
As she came closer, she saw he had earphones in, explaining his uncharacteristic obliviousness. But as she stepped onto the patio, he whirled around, and several reactions passed across his face as he saw it was her. She sucked a breath in. She could’ve sworn that one of them was excitement .
“You’re back early,” he said .
She held out the gifts. “I thought you could use a cold drink and a little pick-me-up .”
“I sure could.” He flashed a grin, displaying his nice white teeth. He wiped his forearm across his forehead, put his hammer down, and grabbed his T-shirt from the fence before pulling it over his head. “Thanks.” He took the cola from her, removed the lid, and had a long swig .
She watched his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down while she gripped the top of the donut bag with both hands. He had no business looking that sexy, or making her feel so excitable and fluttery. “How’s it going?” she asked .
“Pretty good. I’m mostly done with the platform. Then I’ll add the eight uprights, lay the horizontal beams on top, then begin working on the rafters. I’ll probably work on the carving of the ornamental features at home .”
She nodded thoughtfully. In all honesty, asking him to build the gazebo had mostly been a ruse to get him to stay at her place longer, but she was happy she’d had the brainwave since it was going to look really nice when it was complete. “You’re doing a fantastic job,” she said .
He gave her his crooked smile. “Thanks.” When she passed the donuts to him, he took one and then offered the bag back to her. They sat down at her little metal table and munched companionably. He looked lighter than usual and it warmed her heart. She wished things were different between them and she hadn’t made him think she was a lunatic. She longed to know what lay beneath his seriousness and intensity. He had a kind heart. Not many people—especially not people who were as hostile to bullshit as he was—would’ve agreed to be her fake boyfriend. She slipped into a daydream where she was caught up in some kind of emergency. Not the Silly Selma type of emergency she created for herself, but something outside of her control. Like her bag getting snatched or something. Frankie would be the hero who saved her. He was that kind of guy—strong, protective and loyal. Then she’d invite him for dinner to thank him, take him somewhere classy, and she’d impress him with her smart and interesting conversation, and she wouldn’t say anything ridiculous .
He got up to return to his work. She had to tell him now. She bit her lip .
“I don’t know if I mentioned,” she began, trying to make her voice sound light and careless. “The party I was telling you about is tomorrow. You’re okay to come, right ?”
His head snapped in her direction. “Tomorrow?” He let off a sigh. “No, you didn’t mention that, Selma .”
“I’m sor — ”
A sound escaped his throat, so wild and fierce that it cut her off mid-word. She trembled and released a little whimper .
He coughed and laid a hand on his throat. “Sorry. My bear just got stressed. It’s fine. Really, it’s fine .”
She nodded. “Okay. Well, I’d better get back to the office.” She got to her feet and fled .