Carolina is asleep when I wake up.
Carefully, I pull my arm off her, grab my wallet and keycard, and tiptoe out of her room. I’ll come back and grab my suit later.
I’m struggling to wrap my head around last night. When I slid into bed with her, my fingers tingled as I remembered how they’d felt when running along her soft skin while I helped her undress.
I should’ve kept my hands to myself.
My stupidity is what started last night.
When I noticed she wasn’t wearing a bra, I should’ve walked away.
Instead, I became a dumbass, and my dumbass move lit a fire inside Carolina … a fire I had to fight like hell to put out. It was torture, turning her down. My hands balled into fists as I kept my eyes everywhere but on her body while in the shower. When I washed her hair, there was no stopping the few quick glances I took. Her perfect, round ass was so close to my cock … warning me but also tempting me with how easily I could’ve bent her over and taken her from behind.
And boy, was it a motherfucking challenge.
I’m not sure what got into her last night—definitely not me … unfortunately—but the only other time I’ve seen that side of her was the night I took her virginity.
I couldn’t …
I can’t.
Losing Carolina scares me more than being in love with her.
My hands have to stay to myself, so she remains in my life.
Softly, I shut the door behind me, walking into the hallway, and head to my room.
“Morning.”
I still at the sharp morning greeting.
Oh shit.
The air is thick as I turn on my heel to face Pastor Adams. The crease in his forehead and disapproving expression on his face confirm he thinks I’m doing the walk of shame from his daughter’s room.
If he only knew.
I straighten and slap on a cheerful grin. “Good morning, Pastor Adams.” I gulp, stopping myself from adding, This isn’t what it looks like.
The shorter our conversation, the better.
Thank fuck I changed out of my suit last night.
Me wearing sweatpants looks far more believable that I slept in my room than me sneaking out in my suit.
My grin stays intact as I jerk my head toward Carolina’s room. “I ran over to wake Carolina up and ask what she wanted for breakfast.”
“Oh, really?” His lips press together in a grimace.
He’s calling bullshit.
I look him in the eyes, establishing I’m not a rude little shit who spent all night banging his daughter. “Yes, sir.”
He cocks his head to the side, his face twisting in displeasure. “What did she say?”
“She doesn’t feel well.”
“She’s sick?”
I nod.
Carolina owes me a shit-ton of cookies.
I’m lying to a preacher.
Okay, Lord up above, it’s not a full lie.
She will feel like shit when she wakes up.
He advances a step. “I should check on her.”
My hand darts out as I rush closer to stop him from knocking on her door. “She went back to sleep and asked me to wake her in an hour.”
He fixes a hard stare on me. “Why don’t we have breakfast then? We can bring Carolina back something when we’re finished. It’s no fun to eat by yourself, and my wife is at the spa this morning.”
I jerk back, a sudden headache slamming into me.
Oh, man.
Not a coffee date with my fake girlfriend’s father.
How do I get out of this?
“Uh, yeah, sure,” I mutter, knowing I can’t decline without looking like an asshole. “Let me get dressed.”
“Good idea,” he deadpans and stops me as I whip around. “I suggest you refrain from roaming public hallways shirtless in the future … especially on a Sunday morning. It’s disrespectful.”
I peek back at him. “Appreciate the advice.”
I shuffle into my room, change into jeans and a shirt, brush my teeth, and hurry back into the hallway where he’s waiting. I was hoping he’d bailed on me. We make small talk while taking the elevator downstairs to the restaurant. Lucky for me, we have plenty of time for this coffee chat since our flight doesn’t depart until this afternoon.
“For someone who’s been close to my daughter for years and is now dating her, you sure don’t come around often,” he says as we sit down at the two-person table, and he smooths a napkin over his lap. “We’ve never shared a one-on-one conversation.”
He’s right.
Even in high school, Carolina came to my house when we hung out. Sometimes, her parents knew of her whereabouts, and other times, she told them she was studying at the library.
Carolina’s exact words about hanging out at her house after I suggested it was, “We’ll have to sit in the living room on different couches and watch a documentary about the sins of having sex before marriage.”
The preacher is an old-school man. He’s around my father’s age, but unlike my father, his age shows. He’s slender, a man who wears loafers on the regular, and his brown hair is peppered with gray strands. He’s been the preacher of the town church for as long as I can remember. They’re a religious family with strict rules and deep values. He’s a good man who’d probably be more welcoming to me had Carolina and I not been such great friends … and boyfriend and girlfriend now.
How are we going to fake break up without me looking like an ass?
With my reputation, everyone will assume it was my fault, and I’ll look like an even bigger asshole for breaking the heart of the preacher’s daughter.
“We haven’t, sir,” I answer to his one-on-one time comment and pause, allowing him to take lead on this torturous chat.
“You don’t frequent church,” he sternly adds. “And no need to call me sir. I’m Rick.”
“I’ve been busy with my job and school—”
He cuts me off, “You never attended when you were in your teens either with the exception of holidays.”
“You’re right.” No need to dispute facts. It’ll only make me look dumb.
Our waiter, Bobby, arrives at our table to save me from this awkwardness and takes our order. As soon as Bobby leaves, Rick is back to his interrogation.
“Is there a reason for that?”
“No.”
Bobby comes back with Rick’s coffee and my espresso—because I’m extra—and sets them in front of us. “Your order was put in and will be out shortly.”
We both thank him.
“How are your parents doing?” Rick asks, pouring creamer into his coffee.
I’m unsure of which conversation I want to avoid more—me and Carolina or my shitshow of a family.
“Good.” I take a long sip of my espresso, wishing I’d declined his breakfast offer. I should’ve told him I was sick, too. I’d planned to take the morning to digest what had happened with Carolina. Now, I’ll be digesting last night and this conversation with Rick.
“How are you coping with their divorce?”
I never asked for this counseling session.
“Coping perfectly fine,” I reply at the reminder of what an asshole my father is. “My mother is a strong woman and did the right thing.” She should’ve divorced him a long-ass time ago.
“You think that’s the right decision to make?” He raises a brow. “Giving everything up?”
I focus on my drink, avoiding eye contact to shield my annoyance. “When someone hurts you as much as my father did my mother … my family, then yes, I excuse her for leaving him. He cheated and hid secrets too large to heal from.”
He waits until I look at him again before replying, “You know, I counseled them before she made the final decision to proceed with the divorce. I tried to help them reconcile.”
Why is he telling me this shit?
Shouldn’t he have to keep that confidential?
“Marriage is sacred,” he goes on.
My hand clenches around the handle of my mug. “I agree.”
“Do you plan to marry my daughter?”
I choke on my drink, and it takes me a moment to swallow and clear my throat before I can reply, “What?”
“You are dating my daughter now, correct?” His face tightens, as if the thought pains him.
“Yes.” And I love her.
“What are your intentions with her? Marriage? A quick fling?”
My pulse races as I work my answer through my mind before relaying it. “I care about Carolina. She’s been my best friend for years.”
“Best friend? What about girlfriend?”
“It’s new. We’re trying it out. We’ve had feelings for each other for years, and we decided it was dumb to keep holding ourselves back from happiness.”
Uh-oh. This fake relationship will definitely be following us home to Blue Beech.
“Do you plan on breaking her heart?” Worry is etched along every feature on his face. This interrogation isn’t him being an asshole; it’s him protecting his daughter’s heart.
I repeatedly shake my head. “No, of course not. It’s never my intention to hurt Carolina—ever.”
“She’s in love with you.” There’s no bullshit in his tone.
I go quiet for a moment. I know she loves me, but I pretend to be blind about it.
“This is typically the part where boyfriends say they love their girlfriend back.”
I stutter for the right words. “I love Carolina. She’s the most amazing person I know.”
My answer doesn’t satisfy him. “I’ll ask again, what are your intentions with my daughter?”
“For us to be happy.”
He leans back in his chair, his eyes suspicious, and points at me, moving his finger back and forth. “Guys like you, they don’t date the preacher’s daughter.”
I can’t help but scowl. “Carolina is more than just a preacher’s daughter, and I don’t think it’s fair to put that label on her.”
Bobby becomes my favorite person when he interrupts us again with our food. Dude is getting a good-ass tip from me this morning.
Hopefully, Rick worries more about his food than talking to me.
I splash hot sauce onto my Spanish omelet and take a large bite.
“Tell me why Carolina dropped out of school,” Rick urges, not even giving his pancakes a glance.
I swallow down my bite. “She didn’t feel it was right for her.”
“She had no issues her freshman year.” He takes a drink of coffee and wipes his mouth. “Out of nowhere, she decided to drop out and move home. Was it for you? Did something happen to her?”
I understand his concern. I had one hundred questions for Carolina. She answered some, lied about some, and refused to answer the others.
“Carolina hasn’t told me the entire truth on why she moved home,” I honestly answer. “Whatever she’s going through, I hope she’ll open up to us when she’s ready.”
He frowns. “Don’t break my daughter’s heart, Rex.”
“I won’t.” I’ll try not to.
“And I expect the next time I catch you sneaking out of her room, it’s after you’re married,” he says, giving me a pointed look. “My daughter has values.”
With that, he pours an excessive amount of syrup on his pancakes and takes a large bite.
I have a doughnut in one hand and a coffee in the other as I stroll into Carolina’s hotel room.
“Rise and shine,” I call out.
After my wonderful and not-at-all-awkward breakfast with her father, I ran to my room and showered.
Carolina yawns while sitting up in the bed. “Quit being so perky.” Another yawn. “It’s too early for that.” Her hair is a tangled mess, there’s dried slobber on the side of her mouth, and even with the shower, there’re still blotches of mascara under one eye. She’s a gorgeous, hot mess.
I hold the doughnut bag and coffee up. “I brought food for your hungover self. I’d be nice to this perky dude.”
“All right,” she groans. “Thank you. Carbs is just what the doctor ordered.”
“Or what the preacher ordered.” I hand her the bag and a napkin before placing the coffee on the nightstand next to her. “Your dad picked it out for you.”
She stills, just as she’s about to take a bite of the doughnut. “My dad?”
I plop down on the edge of the bed by her feet. “Yep. We had breakfast.”
“You had breakfast with my dad,” she drags out.
“Sure did. It was quite a blast, let me tell you. We drank mimosas and took tequila shots. He sure enjoyed the hair of the dog.”
She stretches her leg out to kick me. “You’re such a liar.”
“About the shots, yes. About us having breakfast, no. He wanted to have coffee with his daughter’s new boyfriend to tell him not to break your heart.” I leave out the questions about future marriage and why she left school.
Her eyes widen, the doughnut falling onto the bag in her lap, and her hand cups her mouth. “Oh my God! I forgot about our boyfriend-girlfriend game. What happens when we get home? How are we going to break up?”
I poke her foot. “Let’s say you cheated on me.”
“What? No! You’re not blaming the breakup on me.”
“Oh, and I’m supposed to take the blame?” I point at myself and shake my head. “I’m not being the bad guy.” I scratch my cheek. “There are reasons other than cheating. We can say you joined a nunnery. You join, no one suspects anything, and all will be right in the world.”
“You need to stop suggesting I join a nunnery. Not happening.” She shoves a bite of the doughnut into her mouth.
“Why? Your father probably has some great connections.”
She rolls her eyes, chewing. “You just want me to stay single and non-sexually active for the rest of my life.”
“Fine, no cheating or nunnery. We’ll say we’re better off as friends.”
She throws her head back. “It’s way too early to discuss our fake breakup for our fake relationship.”
I nod in agreement. “Your head hurt?”
I’m acting as normal as I can.
Does she remember what happened last night?
She wasn’t drunk. I definitely won’t be bringing that shit up, though.
“Nope.” She finishes off her doughnut.
“Liar.”
“Ibuprofen, please.” She points at her bag. “Left pocket.”
I snatch her bag, grab the ibuprofen, snag a bottle of water from the mini fridge, and hand them to her.
“Thank you,” she says, swallowing the pills down.
She hands me the water, and I set it on the nightstand next to her coffee.
“Our flight leaves in a few hours,” I inform her, sitting back down on the side of the bed. “I’m shocked you’re not packed and ready to go yet.”
“Last night drained all the life out of me. I can’t wait to go home.”
“Back to reality,” Carolina says after we land and stroll through the airport. “I never thought I’d be so excited to be home from a vacation.” She holds up her hand to correct herself. “Technically, it was a hell-cation.”
We took an Uber to the airport with her parents this morning, and Carolina tried her hardest not to appear hungover. The disapproving glances her father shot her way proved her convincing skills sucked ass.
I bump my shoulder against hers. “Rude to say that to the person who accompanied you on the trip.”
“Fine.” She bumps my shoulder back. “It would’ve been a hell-cation had you not been there. Seriously, thank you for coming, Rex.”
“I’ll always have your back … until you break up with me later.” I press my hand to my heart. “I’m already putting together a broken-heart playlist.”
She rolls her eyes. “You’re breaking up with me. I’ve been brainstorming for the perfect story.”
“Too late. I’ve already made the decision. You’re into some kinky shit in the bedroom that’s way out of my comfort zone.” I struggle to hold in a laugh. “I refuse to let you spank me with whips and give you a golden shower.”
“Oh my God,” she gasps, slapping my arm, and she casts a glance at her sister walking a few feet behind us. “What is wrong with you? My sister is right there, and you know how much of a tattletale she is. I can’t have my parents thinking I want you to pee on me!”
I chuckle. “I highly doubt your parents know what a golden shower is.”
“Uh … you ever heard of Google?”
“Google?” I stroke my chin. “What is this Google you speak of?”
She hitches her bag up higher on her shoulder. “I like your idea, but it needs to be switched around. I was the one who refused the peeing thing.”
“I see we’re having some creative differences here. Time to find a better approach. You riding home with me? We can talk about the best way to break up.”
“Duh. My parents already know.” She blows out a long breath. “I’m definitely not sharing another ride with them.”
“How did you know I’d let you ride home with me? Maybe your boyfriend needs some alone time.”
“Don’t care. I’m riding with you. Get over it.”
I chuckle. “I love it when you’re bossy.”
There might’ve been some awkward times during our trip—like, say, when she got naked and asked me to shower with her—but I’m sad it’s over. Not that I won’t be spending more time with Carolina back home, but it was nice to be able to touch her without it appearing weird. I was her boyfriend in Texas. It was my job to be all touchy-feely. If only I could do it here in Blue Beech.
Our vacation is over.
Our fake relationship will end.
Our lives will go back to normal.
Neither of us has muttered a word about the shower incident, and I’m hoping it stays that way. I already felt bad enough about turning her down. Carolina doesn’t put herself out there like that; it’s not in her nature. It was rough to say no, but it was also satisfying to know she trusts me enough to pull herself out of her comfort zone. Sure, she was drunk, but had I been some random dude, she would’ve never dropped her panties in front of me.
At least, I hope not.
We grab our luggage, and Carolina turns her parents down for a ride four times before we finally say good-bye and walk to my car in the parking garage.
“Have I mentioned how much I love this car?” she says after we throw our luggage in the trunk and get in. “It’s so much fancier than mine. You just keep getting more tech savvy.”
“An electric car is not tech savvy,” I argue from the driver’s side as we pull out of the parking spot.
She stretches out her legs. “In our small town, anything above a gas-hogging truck, Jeep, or minivan is tech savvy.”
“Which is why, Lina babe, I don’t suggest it. Finding charging stations is a bitch.”
I fucking love my Tesla. It took me a while to finally make the plunge and buy it, but it’d been my dream car for years. After I signed my contract with the development company for my game, I sold the Charger and bought the Tesla. The next item on my list is purchasing a home after my lease ends.
“I’m too poor to buy a new car anyway,” she says with a frown. “I might stay poor for the rest of my life since I dropped out of school … says my parents.”
I gulp, gripping the steering wheel as I glance over at her. “Do you think you’ll ever tell them the truth?” Do you think you’ll ever tell me the entire truth?
“Who knows?” She wrinkles her nose. “Maybe in thirty years.” She shakes her head while turning her attention out the window. “It’s embarrassing. I’m stupid.”
“Hey,” I say softly. “You’re not stupid. You were taken advantage of.”
“My stupidity is more than just him.” She casts me a nervous glance. “It’s him, what happened with Margie, all of it. I feel stupid, weak, and wish I could go back in time.”
My stomach sinks at the heartbreak in her voice, and I wish I could wrap her in my arms, hold her tight, and let her know it’ll be okay … as I’ve done so many damn times since that bastard did what he did.
“My parents wouldn’t understand being taken advantage of because I made that stupid choice,” she continues. “It was a consequence of my decision. None of this would’ve happened had I not been irresponsible … had I not been too scared to tell the truth and stopped hiding it.”
Yet she’s still hiding it.
“Has living at your sister’s improved?”
At first, Tricia gave her shit for dropping out, which is bullshit. Tricia didn’t go to college. She married her high school sweetheart right out of school and started a family. Her parents approved of that, but they don’t approve of Carolina waitressing and getting her shit together. Her sister hasn’t failed to remind her how much work and money their parents put into Carolina’s education.
“A little,” she replies. “I stay in the loft as much as I can when I’m there. When she makes her surprise visits for girl talk, I agree with her, so she’ll go.” She shrugs. “What can I do? I’m not going to be a bitch. She’s giving me free rent, for goodness’ sake, and losing money by not renting it to anyone else. I can handle a little lecturing for that.”
“The offer to move in with me is still open,” I say.
She shakes her head. “Hearing my sister’s lectures is better than being around you and your women.”
“Oh, come on.” I crack a smile. “You act like I’m with a different woman every night. Hell, I spend nearly half of my time hanging out with you and the other working on my fame.”
She laughs when I glance her way and smirk.
“You’re at my apartment more than your own anyway,” I add. “It’d be no different.”
I’ve offered the spare bedroom in my apartment to her several times. I’d love for her to be my roommate, for me to be able to watch over her and hang out with her more.
“On the days we’re not together, you’re with another chick, not working on your fame—unless it’s to be Blue Beech’s biggest man-whore even though you’ve already won the title.” She waggles her finger in my direction. “Don’t forget, I’ve been there on numerous occasions when random chicks show up at your doorstep.”
“I didn’t know numerous meant twice,” I correct. “And I made them leave.”
My other nickname for Carolina is the Exaggerator Queen. She always multiplies everything I do by at least five. Two chicks show up, and she’ll say it’s ten. I tell her I’ve had sex with one chick, and she says I’ve had sex with five.
“Are you going home or to my place?” I ask when the Welcome to Blue Beech, Iowa sign comes into view.
“Home for now,” she replies. “I might come by later. I need to unpack, do laundry, take a long bath, and get over this stupid hangover.”
I nod and head toward her sister’s house. “Text me in a bit … with a breakup text.”
She sighs. “Not happening, homeboy.”
A playful groan leaves my throat. “At least send your boyfriend a picture of you in the bath.” I slam my mouth shut as soon as I say the words, and I want to slap myself.
Teasing Carolina whenever she said she was taking a bath was one of my favorite pastimes, but now, after the shower incident, bath sexting references are a terrible idea.
Her face pales, confirming she no doubt remembers what happened last night. “Not …” she stutters. “Not happening.”
I force myself to sound as playful as I can. “Kidding, my sweet girlfriend.”