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“All right. You know where to find me if you change your mind. Get on with your busy life.”
That’s exactly what I do. I change, hop on my bike, and head to the sea wall. It’s not until I’m there that I finally pull out my phone to tell Rhett the news about our fake date. Before I do, I read over Rhett’s last message.
You fucking brat. I knew it.
He doesn’t know the half of it.
We’re a go for dinner tomorrow. Bring me a new iPhone and one for my brother. What should I wear?
I don’t specify that it should be the best of the latest models. It’s Rhett. I doubt he’d buy the second-best anything for a seagull at the beach, let alone his fake boyfriend.
Two measly iPhones? You’re making this too easy. I could bring one for each of the Meyer population and it wouldn’t begin to put a dent in my bank account.
I wanted a car, but Merc said no. He’s no fun.
I press send on that, but the devil in me likes the idea of him showing up with a shipment of iPhones.
Sure, do it. One for every Meyer.
It can be my gift to all of them. I have a feeling being Rhett’s boyfriend’s not going to be easy. I should get something for my struggles.
Done. I’ll pick you up at seven tomorrow night. I’ll have something sent for you to wear.
Ha! Is he for real?
Silly me for thinking like a pauper, wearing my own clothes and whatnot.
For the next little while, you’re dating an Elkington. Lots of perks with that name. Enjoy it, beautiful scorpion.
Beautiful scorpion?He can’t mean that. Endearments come easy to the rich. Don’t they call everyone darling and sport or something?
I’ll allow that name.
*smirking emoji* Where are you?
Beach.
It’s going to rain.
It’s always going to rain here.
Seriously. It’s a perpetual state of rain. If it’s not actively raining, it’s about to rain. If it’s not either of those, it somehow manages an in-between where the air itself is wet.
Get inside before it rains, please.
Did he just tell me what to do? Whatever he did, my body liked it a bit too much. The aftereffects of a shivery thrill are still buzzing through me.
I have a thousand questions, but what I’m not is surprised. It’s obvious that Rhett’s a bossy dictator. So is Mercy. Jack has a type. But it’s not so simple as tyranny. There’s genuine care behind it and thinking of it that way rationalizes his demand.
Afraid that I’ll catch my death by way of a cold?
Something like that, and if we’re going to announce our relationship in the next few days, there’s protocol, Logan. You can’t be seen around town looking like a drowned rat.
What are you? Vancouver royalty?
Jack didn’t tell you? My dad’s the mayor.
No. He did not. A rock drops to the bottom of my gut. Several more pile on. Maybe I’ve gotten in a tad over my head.
