The Proposal, page 13
How dare they ogle my fake fiancé?
17
Leo
The first half of the guests trickled in. Some showed up in their own cars while others arrived in a bus chartered by the hotel.
We’d gone over everything twice, if not five times, walking through the set-up until we had the transition down between the first and second set of guests.
The compromise we’d set was for the first half of the day to be more laid back, fun, low stakes activities more focused on health and beauty, while the second set would be where we’d do the paintball fun, giving everyone a bit of what they wanted.
Zara would take the lead in the morning and I’d step up in the afternoon. But the open bar was a fav with both crowds. Who didn’t love top shelf booze? My eyes had bulged when I’d seen the budget line for alcohol.
Winthorpe wasn’t skimping on the fun their employees were having—as long as no one screwed up the key cards. The servers were dressed casually in button-downs and jeans, which helped everyone blend in more, and kept it from feeling stuffy.
There were a few furtive glances here and there, but I prayed they were for my height and not because they recognized me.
One of the servers walked in a slow circle, checking the trays as they passed.
“If you’re looking for the restocking station, it’s past the massage tents.” I pointed in the direction. The older gentleman turned with his eyebrows furrowed and I cringed. Odds were we didn’t have any servers over fifty.
I smiled. “And you’re not working today, are you?”
The older man laughed and shook his head. “Not exactly, but I’m flattered you thought I could be.”
“Don’t stand too still or someone like me might shove a tray into your hands. It happened to me earlier.”
“You weren’t offended?” He leaned against the white fence ringing the event space.
“I got to eat a whole tray of the bacon-wrapped shrimp!” We laughed. “It was an honest mistake. Were you offended?” Insulting a guest wasn’t the best way to kick off a good client relationship.
The corners of his eyes crinkled and he laughed. “No, not at all. And those bacon shrimp were something to write home about.”
I leaned in. “After paint ball, come to the server station and if there are any left over, I’ll score you some.”
“That would be nice of you. I’m Clint Waverly.” He extended his hand.
“Leo.” Our shake was quick and hearty.
He seemed to be waiting for me to say something else.
My phone buzzed with messages from Zara. “I’ve got to get back to work keeping everything on track, but definitely let me know about the shrimp. Enjoy the day, Clint.”
Ten steps later I didn’t have to find her.
She rushed toward me with a frantic look in her eyes. “None of the masseuses are in the tents.”
“They’re all here. The reservation system went down.”
Her hand shot out and her fingers tightened on my arm.
I peeled her fingers off before he snapped a bone. “I handled it. They’ve reset everything. We didn’t lose any reservations and they’re scheduled to start in thirty minutes after the first team-building game.”
“You handled it.” The shock in her voice dug under my skin.
“Like I said I would. I want this to go as well as you do. So far everyone’s having fun. The weather is on our side. Take a breath.”
She turned with her hand shielding her eyes. There were groups of people doing various camp-inspired activities. Their laughter traveled across the open field. Heaters were set up near the massage area for the late afternoon into evening.
“The campfire will start a little after four. I’ll save you a s’more, but I need to make sure everything’s ready for capture the flag after that.”
She whirled around and looked at me, silently nodding like I’d been replaced by a pod person.
“Thank you, Leo.”
“We’ve still got a long day ahead of us. You can thank me later.”
By two I was beat. Lunch had gone as planned. We said goodbye to one group and the next arrived with energy to spare. At four my eyes were like an iron curtain being propped up by two toothpicks.
Two-a-day practices had nothing on being one hundred percent on and putting out fires all day while keeping a smile plastered on my face.
Evading phone numbers was also a hazard. It took me a full five minutes into a conversation with one guest to realize she was flirting. If Kathleen had seen, I’d have had my ass handed to me by Zara.
I needed a fake engagement ring of my own.
Zara and I had crisscrossed paths all day, never getting more than a few minutes before we were off to the next thing. At five, I sat for the first time since we’d arrived.
“What are they doing here?”
Zara stared at them, nearly missing the low, polished, half-tree trunk bench I’d reserved for us. “I got you this.” She placed the full plate of food on my lap, never taking her gaze off Oren & Co. They were next down in the pecking order. The gala they were throwing would be next week, but it looked like they were checking up on us. Kathleen had mentioned we could attend any of the other events to get a feel for what had already been done. We’d thought it was to give us an edge, but she must’ve offered the option to everyone else as well.
“You got this for me?” I held up the reinforced paper plate.
“Did you eat already?” She reached between my legs to the bag of marshmallows I’d ripped open and shoved one onto a stick, holding it out over the ground beside the fire.
“No, I haven’t eaten.” One or two appetizers at a time was all I’d been able to scarf down. During meals we were racing onto the next thing, making sure everything went smoothly once people finished.
“It’s always impossible eating. You’re like a bride at a wedding, everyone wants a piece of you, so you never get a chance to sit down long enough to eat.”
“Did you have some already?” I held out a pig in a blanket to her.
“Yeah, but I’ll never turn down one of these. So, what’s up with them? How long have they been here?” She tilted her chin toward the two hanging back from everyone else, in their designer suits with their arms locked across their chests. Every few minutes they’d pull out their phones at the same time, like they were doing a Shining twins impersonation, and jot something down. There wasn’t a hello, a friendly wave, nothing but sunglasses and blank expressions.
“They’ve been here all day. This is the first you’re seeing them?”
I pushed her arm a few inches to the left to get the end of the stick in the way of the cracking flames. My fingers brushed against the smooth skin of her arm just above her wrist.
“I’ve been occupied,” Zara responded. My throat tightened.
“They got here at noon and have been lurking the whole time.” She leaned in close, her breath caressing my ear and sending shivers down my spine. I swallowed, my mouth suddenly dry.
“They tested out all the food, even stole a spot for a massage. Sizing up the competition.”
She didn’t say anything.
I glanced down at her and she jolted, tearing her gaze away from my lips before clearing her throat and facing forward.
My mind shot back to the night in the bar with the onion ring. Her lips had brushed against my fingers when she’d devoured the onion ring. Being this close to her again brought back the same crazy, blood-rushing high I’d had that night.
“Is there something on my mouth?” I wiped at my face with the back of my hand.
With wide eyes, she shook her head. “There was, but you got it. Don’t worry about it.”
“Don’t worry about them.”
“Who?” She tilted her head.
“Oren & Co. We’ll be sizing them the hell up at their event too.”
Recognition lit up her face and her eyes narrowed with determination. “Hell yeah, we well.” She knocked her fist against mine before checking out the flaming piece of charcoal that had at one point been her marshmallow. Waving it around and blowing on it, she finally put it out.
I dug into the bag filled on the ground. “Need a new one?”
She sighed, ripping the charred one off and nodding.
“Don’t worry about them. They can scribble down all the notes they want, but they don’t have our secret weapon.”
“What’s our secret weapon?” she asked out of the corner of her mouth, keeping a watchful eye on her marshmallow.
“Me.”
She snorted, covering her face with the inside of her elbow and shaking her head. “You don’t lack confidence one bit.”
Little did she know. “Of course not, Gingersnap.”
Our team was winning. When I threw on my blue pinnie, my competitive surge couldn’t be stopped. It wasn’t my fault the teams were uneven and they needed me to step in. Armed with as many balloons as I could hold, we gathered around and set out our game plan then broke into position.
We were in the end game now. Both teams down to their final numbers. One of the sales guys darted across the field toward the flag. I needed to cover him. I dug into the bag at my side. I only had two balloons left. Letting one fly, I took out someone steps away from our best chance at a win.
“Leo!”
It was instinct. Pure and simple. I whirled around and launched my last balloon, staring in horror at the floppy morphing shape on a collision course with Zara’s head.
Everything slowed down. The latex balloon hit her face, wrapping almost completely around it. For a second I thought maybe it would bounce off and hit the ground unbroken, but the rip happened. Once the first drop of paint was free, everything sped back up.
She stood with her hands out by her sides, not even having had enough time to react to bring them up to protect her face. The coveralls everyone had been handed before the game were nowhere to be seen. Her white shirt and jeans were splattered with paint. Red strands of hair stuck up through the blue mask of paint plastered to her head.
With her eyes and mouth squeezed shut, she stood there for a solid ten seconds not moving a muscle.
Gingerly, I pulled a remnant of the balloon from her collar.
She let out a half-growl, half-scream and batted my hands away from her face. “Don’t. Touch.” Slamming her lips closed, she spun around and walk-shuffled away with her arms out by her sides.
I pressed my fist to my mouth, not wanting her to get too far. “Zara! Our yurt’s the other way.”
She stopped and turned, her eyes spelling murder, and walked past me. “See you when you get there, sweetheart.”
Pain. There was a lot of pain in my future. And possibly a castration.
A blue handprint marked our yurt before I even confirmed the number dangling from the metal marker stacked in the grass in front.
The shower had been going since I arrived. Not a full downpour like a standard shower, but intermittent downpours like someone tipping a bucket over their head repeatedly. I changed and lay back on the thick, layered matting and rugs, awaiting my fate.
Guilt nibbled in my stomach. I hadn’t meant to hit her with the balloon. An honest mistake. I’d taken her clothes out of the laundry bag in the closet and sent it out for cleaning. It would be here in the morning in time for our brunch.
She stepped out of the bathroom cubby, squeezing the ends of her hair with the towel. A hint of blue paint lingered on her forehead. Maybe it hadn’t been as non-staining as I’d thought. No one else got hit nearly as badly as she had. Maybe it was something about redheads. But if we turned up tomorrow and there was a squadron of Smurfs, I had no doubt she’d be baying for my blood.
I averted my gaze to the ceiling with my hands behind my head. The plush floor wasn’t as uncomfortable as I’d thought it would be, but the chill after the sunset made it feel like we were a few degrees from seeing our own breath.
She swam in the Bartram Manor pajamas they’d provided us, whereas I’d only been able to fit into the pants, and wearing my sweaty button-down wasn’t at the top of my list of comfortable ways to sleep. I was past goosebumps at this point, but no one had told that to my nipples. Thank god it was dark in there. The dim light from the bathroom area was the only light we had.
She dragged the plush blanket down the bed. “You don’t have to sleep on the floor.”
“We had a deal.” My teeth chattered through my words. Once the sun disappeared below the horizon the temperature plummeted.
“That was before we knew we’d be sleeping in a meat locker.” She shivered and jumped into the bed, pulling the thick, probably insanely warm blanket up to her chin.
“I’m good down here.” I pulled the robe half covering my body up higher, which left my feet completely uncovered.
“Your chattering teeth are going to keep me up all night, plus the guilt would give me nightmares.”
A night on the soft and fucking freezing floor, or getting into a big warm bed, even if it’s beside Zara, who wouldn’t think twice about a punch to the sternum over an accidental brush. I’d take my chances on the one that didn’t involve a frostbitten penis.
I slipped into the bed, holding back my moan at the warmth radiating from under the blankets. “Does this mean I’m forgiven or do I need to watch my back?”
“You mean for when you splatted an entire paint-filled balloon over my head?”
“It was part of the game. If you didn’t want to get covered, then you shouldn’t have come in there.”
Her head dropped to the side and even though I couldn’t see her eyes, I knew the daggers were being sharpened.
“Sorry.”
“At least everyone loved the event. Kathleen came up to me on my way to the tent and told me she loved how playful we are.” Her snort-huff mixed with the cricket sounds from the other side of our yurt.
“I’ll have to keep a paint balloon in my back pocket from now on.” A pillow whack came from her side of the bed with no warning. “Good thing those are soft.” I pulled a feather out of my mouth.
She dragged the pillow back to her side of the bed and shoved it under her head. “Off the bed.”
“Too late now, you invited me. I’m a mattress vampire.”
“If I’d known the pillows were so soft, I wouldn’t have.”
“You only invited me up here to beat me up.”
“Beat you up? What are you, thirteen?”
“I imagine you sprung from the ground as a fully formed twenty-something, complete with tablet and heels. What would you know about thirteen-year-olds?”
“If only growing up were that easy. And my little brother is thirteen—well—fourteen now.” The smile in her voice shone through the dim light inside our tent.
“Does he live nearby?”
“No, he’s at boarding school in Illinois.”
Boarding school. Wow, she came from one of those families.
“Is it the same school you went to?”
“No. Not even close. He’s there on a scholarship—well, he was. They changed his financial aid package.” Frustration leaked from her words.
So, not one of those families at all.
“It’s hitting your parents hard?”
She let out a humorless laugh. “If they crawled out of their bottles they might realize he’s gone before he graduates.”
Silence reigned between us. Sadness and anger brewed in each second.
“That sucks. Do they live around here?”
Even more silence. Maybe I’d pushed her into territory she didn’t feel like going over with the guy who’d clobbered her with a paint bath earlier today.
My eyes adjusted to the darkness. With her lips parted, a finger-traceable outline of her face was backlit against the low light on the other side of the tent. Beside her in bed, there was a tug deep down, tapping into something I’d never felt before. She was already out cold. Dark spots speckled her hairline against her skin.
Flipping on my side, I shoved my arms under my pillow to keep from dragging her close against my chest.
“Night, Zara.”
18
Zara
Had it warmed up outside? I could feel my toes again. The warm cocoon of the bed was the most comfortable I’d been in a long time. The pillow top mattress conformed to my body. Opening my eyes meant another day of work, and I wanted to stay here all nice and snuggly. Only, my pillow wasn’t exactly a pillow. It was too hard to be a pillow. Firm, but warm.
And also breathing.
My eyes shot wide open as my senses returned and the steady heartbeat under my ear clued me into exactly where I’d been resting my head.
Leo’s eyes opened at the same time. We both yelped and shot to opposite sides of the bed. I caught myself with the blanket, nearly dragging it off the bed, completely uncovering Leo.
He shouted and sat straight up, hunching over, but that didn’t mean I hadn’t seen his little morning surprise. Only, there was nothing little about it. The flames fanned my cheeks, down my neck, and my back probably looked like I’d been out sunbathing all day in the middle of July.
I averted my eyes and wiped the lovely morning drool from the side of my face.
With a half turn, he grabbed the blanket and rubbed at his chest, sending the heat even higher. Was it coming out of my eyes yet?
“Sorry,” I mumbled.
The beats of silence ratcheted up the awkwardness by a factor of ten.
Clearing his throat, Leo swung his legs over the side of the bed and mumbled a good morning and something about an unexpected shower.
“Morning.” Mine came out way too chipper and fake.
“What time is it?” He rubbed his eyes and tried to push down his bedhead.
The glow of my phone broke through any sleeplessness I might’ve been fighting.
We whipped around at the same time, screaming, “We’re late!”
