Faking Ms. Right: A Hot Romantic Comedy (Dirty Martini Running Club Book 1)
Faking Ms. Right: Chapter 10

The movers would be upstairs any minute. Thankfully, Dad wasn’t home. He was out to dinner with Svetlana—which made my skin crawl, but I was glad he was occupied with something else. I didn’t want an audience when Everly arrived.

I’d told Dad that I’d already asked Everly to move in. He’d been predictably thrilled. Ethan and Grant didn’t appear to be interested in becoming parents, and Dad had his heart set on being a grandfather. Sadly for him, he’d pinned all his hopes on me, and I’d failed to deliver. The news that I was taking this step, as he put it, had made him practically giddy.

That had given me a twinge of guilt. He was going to be disappointed when I ended yet another relationship without giving him a daughter-in-law. Or grandchildren.

I strummed the strings of my guitar with my calloused fingers, playing a few random chords. The one-room condo where I kept my guitar collection was three floors down from my residence. No one, save the condominium association, knew I owned this unit. Even Ethan, who knew more about me than anyone, didn’t know I had this space. It was private. Intensely personal. None of it looked like the man I showed the world. The slick businessman with all the answers.

This room was dim, the only light coming from a small lamp on the counter. It wasn’t a stereotypical man cave. No giant TV or well-stocked bar. No sports posters or beer signs on the walls. I kept a bottle of twenty-one-year-old Glenlivit in the kitchen, replacing as needed. Had a leather couch along one wall. Some framed posters for ambiance—Zeppelin, Deep Purple, Rush, Queen.

And my guitars. Acoustic. Electric. I had a white Fender Stratocaster. A gorgeous wood-grain Gibson Les Paul. A vintage Rickenbacker bass. Some, like the Gibson Hummingbird acoustic in my hands, I played. Others were just for display. Not to be ostentatious—I didn’t show off my collection. No one knew of its existence. I had them because I loved them. Because it made this place peaceful. And mine.

Sometimes I contemplated why I kept this part of myself so separate. But the answer to that was simple. Music made me vulnerable. I’d never worn my heart on my sleeve like my father did. I was too much like my mother. Practical, logical. Cold. On the outside, at least.

I’d discovered music as an adult, and it had become my outlet. The only real way I was adept at expressing myself. And that simply wasn’t something I wanted to share with the people who knew me as Shepherd Calloway.

I strummed a few more chords, the melody coming easily. I’d left the office early to give myself time to decompress before Everly arrived. The arrangements had been made quickly—by Everly, of course. It was her job, after all. She wasn’t giving up her apartment. Simply moving what she’d need for the next several months. Enough to convince my father, and Svetlana, that we were a couple.

She’d be arriving soon, so I needed to get upstairs. After putting my guitar back on its stand, I slipped out and took the elevator to the penthouse.

A knock on the door heralded Everly’s arrival. I opened it to find her with two movers in the hallway outside, all of them laughing hysterically.

“Yes, I’m serious,” Everly said. She seemed to be in the middle of a conversation that they all found incredibly amusing. “It really happened. Cross my heart. Oh, hi, Mr. Callow—I mean, hi, Shepherd.”

I glanced at the two movers and their smiles faded. “Bedroom is to the left. End of the hallway.”

They nodded, readjusting their grips on the boxes they carried, and moved past me.

“Wow, way to ruin the mood,” Everly said.

“Excuse me?”

She pressed her lips together, almost as if she was surprised she’d said that out loud. “Never mind. Are they…”

“My father’s out for the evening.”

“Oh, okay. So we don’t have to…”

“No.”

“Right. Good.”

She was dressed in a yellow top and cropped jeans, sandals showing off her bright pink toenails. Her hair was up, just a few little wisps hanging down around her neck. Quite the contrast from the other night, when she’d owned that red dress.

The movers went back out for another load. I decided they didn’t have any more need of me and went into the kitchen to pour myself a drink.

Everly followed me in. “So, are you going to show me around or anything? Do I get the make yourself at home speech?”

“Do you need a speech?”

“I don’t know. It might be nice.”

“You’ve been here before.”

She leaned her hip against the counter. “That’s not really the same. I’ve been here to sign for your deliveries. I’ve never even used one of the bathrooms. How many are there?”

“Four.”

“Wow. I guess that will come in handy, what with all the people living here now.”

I definitely needed the drink. It wasn’t Everly’s attempt at conversation that had me reaching for the bottle of Scotch in the cupboard. Seeing her in my kitchen, dressed in comfortable clothes, was almost as disconcerting as seeing her in that red dress had been.

“Sorry, I guess you don’t want to be bothered. I’ll just go…” She made a vague motion over her shoulder toward the other room.

“You’re not… bothering me.” Why I was suddenly worried about her feelings, I had no idea. But I didn’t want to hurt them. “Let me show you around.”

She smiled. “Thanks.”

I went to pour my drink, but paused. “Would you like one?”

“Oh my god, yes.”

Her quick reply almost made me crack a smile. The corner of my mouth twitched. I poured us both a drink and handed one to her.

“Thanks.”

The movers came in, dragging suitcases and another box. How much stuff had she brought? They took it past us, down the hall toward the bedroom.

“Living room,” I said, gesturing. “There’s a TV there. I don’t use it much, but you’re welcome to it. The second master suite is down that hall. My father moved in over the weekend, so he’s occupying that space.”

“Got it.”

I pointed out the other obvious things. Guest bath. My office. Balcony. Then I walked her back to my—what was, for now, our—bedroom.

The movers had put her things in a corner. She stepped inside, shifting on her feet as if nervous.

“So… okay. This is nice.”

My gaze strayed to the bed. I’d toyed with the notion of having her sleep in another room. But if we were going to pretend to be a couple, it was going to require bed sharing.

“We’re both adults, and the bed is a king,” I said, giving her the same speech I’d given myself several times. “There’s another bathroom if you need more privacy. I’ll respect your space; you don’t have to worry about anything.”

“If I was worried about you, I wouldn’t have agreed to this,” she said. “I trust you.”

I wasn’t sure why—any more than I understood why I was concerned about her feelings—but hearing her say she trusted me felt good.

“I guess I’ll let you get settled.”

One of the movers poked his head through the open door. “Miss Dalton?”

She gave him a warm smile. “Jason, I told you, call me Everly.”

“Okay, Everly. Where should we put this?”

From where I was standing, I couldn’t see what he was referring to.

Everly glanced around the room. “Hmm. Not in here. The living room, I think.”

“Sure thing,” he said.

She went out to the other room behind him. I took a sip of my Scotch, then headed for my office. I had work to do. But the sudden laughter from the living room made me curious. What were they laughing about now?

“Dominic, you kill me,” Everly said, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye.

“We got everything,” one of the movers—Dominic, apparently—said. “Is there anything else we can do to help?”

“I think that’s it,” Everly said. “You guys have been so great. Thank you. Bring it in.”

She opened her arms and the two men both hugged her. I watched from the hallway, oddly fascinated. She walked them out and hugged them again, as if they were old friends.

“Well, that’s a wrap.” She shut the door behind them.

I leaned against the wall. “Friends of yours?”

“Who, Dominic and Jason? No. They were just the guys I hired to help. Not that I really needed it. I didn’t bring over anything heavy. Why?”

“It just seemed like you knew them.”

“No, but they were hilarious. Such fun guys.” She glanced around, putting a finger to her lips. “Where did I leave my drink? Oh, there.”

I followed the direction she pointed and a large yellow something—I wasn’t sure what it was—in my living room caught my eye.

“What is that?”

“Hmm?” She walked over and picked up her drink. “This? Oh, it’s my bean bag chair.”

“You brought a bean bag chair? And you’re putting it in my living room?”

She smiled. “Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s comfortable, and a great place to read, and my favorite color.”

I glanced at it again, a big yellow blob sitting among my carefully chosen furniture. “It’s fuzzy. And yellow.”

“That’s very observant of you, Shep.”

My gaze snapped to her.

“Okay, sorry. Just trying to… Never mind. Is it really going to bother you? You already said you don’t use this room very much. And a real girlfriend would put her stamp on the place. I need to spread out. Mark my territory. It’s part of the ruse.”

It was hideous, but that did make sense. “Fair enough. But how much territory marking is going to be necessary?”

The sound of the front door opening followed by Svetlana’s tinkling laugh made the muscles in my back and shoulders clench. Everly met my eyes, hers narrowing slightly. The look of determination on her face lit a fire inside me. It was on.

“Good, you’re home,” Dad said as he shut the door behind Svetlana. “Everly, it’s lovely to see you again.”

Somehow Everly was at my side, although I hadn’t seen her cross the distance between us. Svetlana eyed the two of us, her expression blank. Everly slipped her hand into mine.

“It’s lovely to see you too, Richard,” Everly said, her voice warm as summer sunshine. “Or maybe I should just call you roomie.”

Dad grinned at her, while Svetlana’s face remained impassive.

“Roomie. I like that. Just for a short time, so no need to be concerned. I don’t want to impose, or intrude on your space.”

“Of course,” she said. “There’s more than enough room. And you know Shep is happy to have you.”

“I appreciate it very much,” Dad said.

Svetlana’s eyes were on me, now, and Everly tightened her grip on my hand. Just a slight pressure, but I felt it. A subtle shift of her feet, and her body angled closer to mine. There was a certain possessiveness in her stance. I could feel it, and I had no doubt Svetlana could see it.

A pleasant sense of arousal swept through me, momentarily distracting me from the conversation. My pulse quickened and blood rushed to my groin. There was something about the way Everly quietly claimed me as hers in front of another woman that I enjoyed.

“Shep?”

I blinked, disconcerted. What had Dad said? I cleared my throat, but before I could answer, Everly rubbed her hand up and down my arm.

“Thanks, but we both had a long day and I haven’t even started to unpack.”

“Yes, of course,” Dad said. “Don’t let us keep you. I have an early appointment tomorrow, so Svetlana was only joining me for a nightcap.”

“Good night, Dad,” I said, refusing to acknowledge the harpy. “Everly?”

She squeezed my hand again and smiled at me. God, she was good at this.

Dad led Svetlana into the living room. I noticed her eying Everly’s bean bag chair. Marking territory, indeed.

Everly winked at me, then turned on her heel and walked—no, she didn’t walk. It wasn’t quite a skip, but there was a spring in her step that made her seem a little bit bouncy.

And bouncing made me think of her tits.

I cleared my throat, as if that could clear my head. This was proving to be more distracting than I’d anticipated. I went to my office and sat down with my Scotch. I’d give Everly some space while she unpacked.

We were both adults. This didn’t have to be a big deal.

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