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“You didn’t answer the first question.”
“Work’s fine, honestly.”
“That still isn’t an answer. You’ve been staring at the wall for the past ten minutes.”
Mackenzie Cain might have been my boss, but she was also a friend, so it wasn’t surprising that she’d noticed my misery. All weekend, I’d agonised over what to do. Hell, I’d even gone as far as looking at escort pages on the internet, but if I showed up with Fox, six feet four of ripped manliness, guaranteed to bring me pleasure, my mom would have a heart attack. Plus he wouldn’t know anything about me. If they asked a personal question, the game would be up. Another possibility was to hire an actual actor, but I hadn’t gotten around to researching the logistics yet.
“I have to go to my sister’s wedding next month.”
“Next month? I thought it was next year or the year after? But I’ll approve the time off, no problem. The rest of us can cover.”
“It is a problem.” The story came spilling out—how the venue my sister had her heart set on was booked solid for the next three years, but they’d had a late cancellation. How the thought of my mom playing matchmaker with a man I hated left me cold. How I’d stupidly made up a fake boyfriend, and now I had to produce the goods. “What I need is a nice, juicy murder case. Something I can’t possibly take time off for.”
“Or a fake boyfriend. That’d be easier to arrange.”
“You think? Every escort I’ve found looks like a Ken doll.”
“It’s simple—just offer one of the single guys around here a per diem plus hazardous duty pay, and they’ll charm your family for however long you need. Want me to send a memo out?”
“No!” Although, if a Blackwood guy stepped forward, it would be the answer to my prayers. “Maybe?”
Mack offered an encouraging smile. “I’ll find you a good one, I promise. A man your mom will love.”
Doubtful. But what choice did I have? I gave a hesitant nod, my chest tight, and resigned myself to a weekend I’d rather forget. Although I wasn’t the only person who’d been looking stressed today. I hadn’t missed the tension around Mack’s eyes or the way she’d been worrying at her bottom lip with her teeth. And I didn’t think work was the problem—we had a relatively easy load this morning.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes?” She slumped lower in Mouse’s chair, then reached out a foot to kick the office door closed. Only the two of us were in the room. “No.”
“Want to talk about it? I don’t need to find you a replacement husband, do I?”
She shook her head. “Luke’s wonderful. Everything I ever wanted. Well, almost…” Mack heaved out the heaviest sigh. “I thought having a baby would be easy—just skip the birth control for a while, and voila. But it turns out it isn’t that simple.”
My heart ached for her. I hadn’t even realised she was trying for a baby, but if she had the maternal instincts that I lacked, then throwing the trauma of fertility issues into the mix must hurt.
“How long have you been trying?”
“For over a year. We took all the at-home tests, but still…nothing. The doctor says there are plenty of options left for us—fertility drugs, IVF, even surrogacy—but I guess I’m just not looking forward to bringing a bunch of scientists into the process.”
“Is Luke okay with it?”
“He’s going for more tests at the clinic tomorrow.” Mack managed half a smile. “Mine are next week. We’ll get through it, but I wish we didn’t have to.”
“My older sister and her husband had their first daughter through IVF, and then the second came along naturally two years later. They call her the miracle baby. If there’s anything I can do…”
“I appreciate it. At least finding you a stand-in boyfriend will take my mind off pelvic exams and phlebotomists. Do you have any preference on height or hair colour?”
“As long as he chews with his mouth closed, I’m good, but Mom isn’t a fan of long hair on a guy.”
“Short hair, got it. You’re okay with tattoos?”
“I am, but my family would probably choke if he has a sleeve.”
“If they choked, wouldn’t that solve the whole problem?”
I stared at her for a beat, and then the laughter came. Uncontrollable laughter, bordering on hysterics, but it was better than crying, right? Mack joined in, and it was a full minute before either of us could speak again.
“I just need a regular guy. Respectable, polite, not too hot. My sisters will smell a rat if I show up with a Jason Momoa clone.”
