Page 8 of Fate In Fiction

“Look, Josephine, I appreciate the off––” Emmett begins, but I cut him off.

“Please.” Switching on my pleading eyes, I look up into his with a tone in my voice I think he’ll appreciate. “I need you.”

His jaw slacks as I realize the possible thoughts running through his head with my declaration.

Yep, pig.

“We can talk.” He pauses, glancing down at my book. “That is, if I’m worth you losing time in a fictional world.”

“We’ll take two top-shelf whiskeys, please.” I look Emmett straight in the eye as I solidify my taste.

“Josie,” Clyde warns, and I know it’s because I am still months away from legally being able to drink.

“Whiskey. Neat.” I’ve never been big on rebellion, but this past year has thrown me under the bus in more than one way.

“I’ll pass on the alcohol,” Emmett answers as Clyde sets two glasses on the bar.

“You’re passing on my choice?” I straighten my spine, but I’m still not nearly as tall as him. “Seriously, your taste in alcohol is garbage.”

“Are you sure you’re even old enough to drink it?” He squints down at me, questioning my baby face.

“I just gave you crap about drinking cheap alcohol. How many underaged ladies would be whiskey connoisseurs?” While I’m not a fan of the taste, I’ve listened to my father go on and on about the different types of whiskey and scotch to know enough.

“Let’s talk Saturday night. I need to shower and think all this through.” Emmett clears his throat, and I nod. “So, you’re thinking we can pull off being a couple?” He thinks out loud, brow furrowed.

“A fake one, like you said. Just to get what we want out of our parents,” I whisper, though no one is around.

“You’re sure you won’t end up getting attached?” His charming smile would be enough to make me melt if I wasn’t questioning how dense this guy is.

“I want nothing to do with you, and everything to do with my path to freedom.” I pout and notice his eyes fall to my lips.

“Girls with daddy issues are right up my alley.” I can’t hold back my groan of disgust.

“I really hope you’re purposely pissing me off, because in some sick way, you like seeing me annoyed,” I say, jabbing my finger into his chest, but his hand grabs it.

“Aren’t you precious and terrifying all at once.” His grip around my fingers tightens as he stares me down.

“I think you’re the one who will have trouble pulling this off. Not me.” The way he stares at our connected hands flips my stomach. I mentally scream a list of curse words from how my body enjoys the touch.

“Your face turns a cute shade of bright red when you’re pissed, Li’l Oinky.”

“Call me that again, and you’ll be castrated.”

“Fine.” His jaw drops, then clenches as he bites back what I’m sure is another impulsive remark. “Saturday afternoon, my place.” Holy shit, this is really happening.

“Saturday, in that back booth.” I point to the corner. “I don’t trust you won’t try to charm my pants off with a bed that close by.”

“A bed fuck is rarest of them all for me, little darlin’.” A forced laugh erupts from my chest, but the way his new nickname hits between my legs should be my first warning to not follow through with this plan.

“The odds of you attempting to bend me over the table when there are people around are much slimmer,” I sass, satisfied with painting that picture in my mind. Hold up. We are not having that type of relationship. “Emmett, if you cannot take this seriously, I’ll ask someone else for help.”

“Believe me, I need us to work—as insane as this is. I can be a proper gentleman, Josephine.”

“Perfect. See you tomorrow at two.” With my book still clutched to my chest, I walk past him and head outside for some air.

EMMETT

Saying punctuality is Josephine’s specialty is an understatement as she sits in her favorite chair, where she’s spent the past couple of afternoons. Our meeting should be starting soon, but I don’t bring attention to myself. She hasn’t looked up, so my eyes take the opportunity to observe her body language. Her face is soft, sucked into the world of fiction as I sneak to the booth she pointed out last night for us to meet. If Josephine is this desperate for whatever she needs me for, she’s smarter than the credit I’ve given her. The mayor kisses my ass every chance he sees me. I’m no fool to know that my family name associated with the Callahans can benefit his politics. But what’s her goal?