Not Fake For Long Read online

  Wishful thinking, Keira. Since I’d chosen a professional career path, I was probably stuck with those things for life.

  Even so, I loved my job. Some day very soon, I’d start making enough to move out of my crummy apartment and join the leagues of financially independent women who took the city by storm.

  Hear me roar and all that jazz.

  Laughing softly to myself, I rolled my eyes and wondered if anyone else in the diner where I was waiting for my best friend was having the same kinds of thoughts I was.

  People-watching was a favorite pastime of mine. Some people watched TV to pass the time, others played games on their phones or read, but I preferred to make up my own stories rather than watching, playing along with, or reading those that had been made up by others.

  It was my creative outlet, and since Jamie was late, as usual, I had some time to indulge myself. It was definitely better than giving myself feminist pep talks or worrying about my toes eventually falling off in these shoes. I wasn’t even really a feminist—well, not more so than any other woman. I simply looked forward to being able to provide a stable life for myself.

  I turned my attention to the people around me again and wondered about their lives. There was a bearded guy tucking into a giant burger like it was the first food he’d ever had and a mother at the booth next to his trying to keep five kids under control. I didn’t know if they were all hers, but kudos to her either way. If I’d been here with even two children, I definitely wouldn’t have been able to take charge with as much confidence as she was and I also definitely wouldn’t have looked as put together as she did while doing it.

  I imagined her as being one of those people who could do it all without ever breaking a sweat. She certainly seemed that way.

  The bearded guy next to her had finished his burger and was now polishing off a soda. As I watched, he pulled a small laptop from the satchel next to him, opened it, and started typing furiously.

  Is he reviewing the food he’s just eaten, or is he in the middle of a project and so absorbed in it that he’s forgotten to eat for several days?”

  Jamie’s voice broke into my musings. “I’m sorry. Before you say it, I know I’m always late. I really was going to be on time this time, but I got held up by the couple whose engagement party I’m planning. Is being a groomzilla a thing? If it is, this guy is going to take the prize.”

  She dropped into the chair opposite mine, drawing my attention away from the bearded writer, blogger, and/or IT guru. Jamie had been my best friend for years. At twenty-seven, she was two years younger than I was but she was my soul’s twin.

  We’d met at a trivia night she’d organized when she’d still been cutting her teeth in the event-planning business, and we’d been pretty much inseparable since. She was the Yin to my Yang, and there was no better example of the way we balanced each other out than simply looking at our career choices.

  “You’ll rein him in with your wit and charm,” I said confidently. “Unless he has the budget to back up whatever grand ideas he has that make him a groomzilla. In which case, let him go wild.”

  She made a face at me, her perfect delicate button of a nose scrunching up beneath eyes the color of the Mediterranean. “Let me put it to you this way. On the budget they’ve given me, they might’ve been able to afford a kitten but he wants a tiger. I won’t ruin his fun, though. I’m not a ruiner. He wants their wedding to be the party of the year, and you know I can never resist a good party.”

  I laughed. “The fact that you’ve made a career out of planning them is a bit of giveaway.”

  She stuck her tongue out at me, shaking out her mane of chocolate-brown curls as she ordered a double-thick bubblegum milkshake when the waiter came by. It was safe to say that Jamie lived life to the fullest. Not even her milkshakes were regular. It was double-thick or nothing.

  “Tell me about your day,” she said to me once the waiter was gone, but not before she’d flirted a little with the poor guy. “What’s new in the world of stock-brokering?”

  I shrugged. “I wish I could tell you that I’m kicking ass and taking names, but I’m not. Everyone there is still crazy competitive. I don’t really want to think about work right now, though. I need a break.”

  “Wait.” She twisted in her seat to glance at the people sitting all around us. “I know that look in your eyes. When you say need a break, what you really mean is that you’ve been making up stories in your head about our fellow diners this evening, don’t you?”

  “Yep,” I admitted unashamedly, flicking a discreet finger toward the bearded guy. He was still typing, and unless he was writing one heck of a review for that burger, I was going to assume he wasn’t a food blogger. “What do you think he’s doing? My money is on programming or writing a really steamy novel.”

  “What I think is that you need a hobby,” she said, turning back to me. “Or, if you really want to know, you could just go over there and ask him.”

  “That’s no fun.” I mock-pouted. “It’s not about what he’s really doing. It’s about the mystery of what he could be doing.”

  “I still don’t get it. How is that more fun than knowing what he’s actually doing? For example, maybe he’s writing a screenplay, and if you go over there, he’ll realize you’re perfect for the lead role and cast you in it right here and now.”

  “I don’t think that’s how it works. Don’t casting people do the casting?” I tilted my head before shaking it. “Besides, I have no interest in acting. My sister wants me to make the toast to our parents at her wedding, and I don’t even think I’m going to be able to memorize those few lines. I just don’t think memorizing entire scripts will ever work for me.”

  “Don’t memorize the toast then,” she suggested. “I’m sure Hailey and Nick will understand if you read it off a paper. How’s the planning going for the wedding by the way? I’m still ticked off that the best wedding planner in the city is her sister’s best friend, and she decided to go with someone else.”

  “While I agree that you’re the best there is, Nick insisted on the company they’re using. Everyone who thinks they’re someone is using them these days. He said it’d look like he couldn’t afford their services if he hired someone else.”

  “Honey, I know all about Parker’s cookie-cutter weddings. They’re all the damn same. Pretentious, boring, and overpriced.”

  A snort of laughter came out of me. “Sounds like a perfect fit for Nick then.”

  “You two still don’t get along?” she asked, a little more serious now. “I know he’s much older, but Hailey seems to love him.”

  “It’s not that I don’t like him.” I paused, trying to find the words to express my worries accurately. “I know it seems like she loves him, but I’m just not sure that she’s marrying him for the right reasons. Sometimes, it feels like she’s only doing it so she doesn’t have to work for anything in her life. She’s used to just being handed whatever she wants. His black credit card in her wallet will give her that for life.”

  “Have you talked to her about it?”

  “I’ve tried, but it’s not an easy subject to broach, you know? If she really loves him and he makes her happy, I don’t care if he’s homeless or a millionaire. I just don’t want her to get hurt or, worse, to look back later and realize money isn’t everything after all.”

  Her hand slid across the table and she covered mine with it, giving it a small squeeze. “I know you’re worried, and I know you care more about who people are than how much they earn, but she chose him. You’re her sister, which means you have to support her no matter what.”

  As if my sister’s ears were burning, we were interrupted when my phone started ringing with a call from her. I put the phone on speaker so I didn’t have to repeat everything to Jamie the minute I hung up. It had hardly connected before the bride-to-be was rattling off a list of demands.

  “You’re going to have to clear your schedule for next weekend,” she started. “I’m going to send you a
short list I’ve compiled of our options. Choose one and book it for us for the whole weekend. We’re going for horseback-riding lessons.”

  I gave the phone a blank stare. “Why would we do that?”

  “The wedding venue has offered us use of their stables. Horses are such majestic creatures. Nick and I think that you and I should enter the wedding on horseback. Isn’t it a wonderful idea?”

  “Uh, sure.” I’d just been instructed to support her with whatever she wanted, so I couldn’t exactly say no. “It’ll be fun to go away together for the weekend. We haven’t done that for ages.”

  “We’re not going for fun, Keira,” she snapped. “There isn’t much time left before the wedding and I refuse to look like a fool on the day.”

  I sighed, squeezing my eyes shut against the frustration that filled me because of her tone, and agreed to book the damn lessons. Once we hung up, Jamie grinned at me in an attempt to lighten the mood. “I could always come with you. I’ve never been horseback riding and Hailey might not think it’ll be fun, but I do.”

  “Thanks, but you know how tight-fisted Nick is. He might have more money than anyone else we know, but he doesn’t part with it easily. You’d have to pay your own way if you really want to come.”

  She grimaced and shook her head. “Never mind. Look, maybe it’s a good thing if it’s just you two anyway. You can spend some time together, and you can talk to her about what’s bothering you.”

  “Maybe,” I agreed, but I doubted anything I said would change her mind.

  As Jamie had rightly pointed out, Hailey had chosen Nick. She would hardly send her forty-something-year-old millionaire fiancé packing just because her sister had some doubts. Besides, maybe I had misjudged both him and their relationship.

  All that really mattered was that Hailey was happy, and spending a weekend away with her was a surefire way of finding out whether that was really the case.

  3

  HARRISON

  A week after Hilton’s dismissal, we were finally at a point where we were realizing the extent of his shady business practices. Thankfully, it didn’t seem like he’d been at it for very long before we’d caught wind of it, but it had still been a long few days of damage control and repairing the relationships we could.

  While I’d managed to get out to my farm upstate last weekend, I hadn’t been able to stay for very long. Now it was Thursday. We had clients checking in there for the weekend in little over twenty-four hours, and I didn’t know if we were ready to receive them.

  It was a completely different kind of potential disaster, but it was still something that could be bad for business, and as such, I needed to get out ahead of it. As I packed my things for the day, my receptionist came into my office.

  An older woman, she had a motherly vibe about her and never failed to give me a warm smile even if we didn’t know very much about each other. Agatha had been working for me for a couple of years. She was sharp as a tack and efficient as a bee, but she also liked keeping her personal life private and didn’t pry much into mine.

  Just the way I like it.

  “Leaving early?” she asked, her green eyes soft on mine as she came to stand behind the chair across from my desk.

  I nodded. “I won’t be back until Monday morning.”

  “You know, you never tell me where you’re going when you disappear for these weekends away,” she said lightly, joking now that she knew my workday—at this job anyway—was officially over.

  Granted, she didn’t know about my other life as a farmer. Even so, I returned her smile and snapped my briefcase closed. “That’s because if you don’t know, you can’t reach out to me in an emergency.”

  “Phones work regardless of whether a person knows where another is,” she replied with a soft chuckle. “Wherever you’re going, I hope you get some rest. You’ve had a lot of late nights this week. See you on Monday, boss.”

  I didn’t know how she did it, but the maternal clucking was always perfectly balanced with absolute professionalism. “Thank you, Agatha. Since I won’t be coming into the office tomorrow, you’re welcome to work from home.”

  She inclined her head, her smile widening. “Thank you, Mr. Hynes. You’re a good man, you know that?”

  “Very few people have ever accused me of that before, but thank you,” I said as I passed her on my way to the door. “Have a good weekend.”

  Dottie, my black Labrador who acted more like a cat than a dog, was lounging in the sun when I got to the brownstone that served as our home here in the city. She lifted her head when I walked in but laid it back down when she saw it was just me.

  “You ready to go, girl?” I asked, setting my briefcase down and pulling off my tie all in one motion. When she didn’t respond, not even to wag her tail, I shook my head at her as I shrugged out of my suit jacket. “I’ll take that as a yes, but you could be more excited about the prospect of spending the next few days on the farm. Think of all the rabbits you can chase.”

  She stood up lazily, stretching out her legs before trotting to my side. I wound my hand into her thick, warm fur as I rubbed her neck. “You’re not like any other lab I’ve ever heard of girl, but I don’t have the personality people expect me to have either. Maybe that’s why we get along so well.”

  Craning her neck into my touch, she gave my hand a quick lick. It was as affectionate as she ever got, but that was okay with me. I couldn’t have asked for a better dog than her.

  Since we didn’t need to pack anything before we headed out, all I needed to do was clip on her leash for the short walk to my truck. It was parked just down the block, but I didn’t want to take any chances with Dottie running off into traffic if something caught her attention.

  The brownstone was our townhouse in the truest sense of the word. Our actual home was the smaller of two farmhouses out on the ranch. The only reason we didn’t live there permanently was because it would add an extra two hours each way to my commute every day, and four extra hours on the road per day took up too much time I could spend being productive.

  The closer we got to the village of Red Hook, the more I felt myself relaxing. Living this far upstate might not be a practical possibility while I was still running the Hynes Group, but every time I made the drive, I fantasized about the day I could move out here for good.

  When I’d purchased the farm, it had been an already established business producing fruits and vegetables. I’d kept that going by taking over all the employees who had worked for the previous owner. They knew the ropes, had remained in their jobs and housing, and practically ran that side of things with only oversight provided by me.

  As much as I wanted to be a full-time farmer, I wasn’t one and never had been. I knew there was a chance the whole enterprise could fall apart on me, but in all the time I’d owned the place, I’d kept a close eye on the books. My people worked hard, got paid well, and there hadn’t been a single problem so far.

  They were the experts, and I left them to do what they did best while I focused on the business end of things—which was what I did best. We also had a stable filled with horses, and offered a “ranch” experience for city-dwellers looking for riding lessons or a working weekend away.

  It was crazy how many people were willing to pay to stay on a working guest-farm. On some level, I understood it, though. I still wouldn’t have paid to go to work on someone else’s farm, but it was outdoors, physical work that a person simply couldn’t get in the city.

  With that end in mind, I’d turned the main farmhouse into upscale tourist accommodations and marketed the place as a renovated, nineteenth-century farmhouse with gorgeous picturesque views of the mountains and two lakes on the property. We were also conveniently located close to the charming local community.

  People ate it up. I’d never have become a billionaire running only it, but as an investment, it was doing pretty darn well.

  When Dottie and I arrived, we found an ornery old man with a shotgun in his hand poking around und
erneath the porch. After hopping out of the truck and letting Dottie out, I chuckled at my friend and farm manager’s muttered curses.

  “What’re you doing there, Ashton?” I asked as I walked up with my hands in my pockets. He was going to give me shit for still being in my suit, but we did this dance every week. “Need any help?”

  “I’m looking for a chicken snake hiding from its fate,” he said, his voice as gruff and scratchy as always. “When’d you get here?”

  “Just now,” I replied. “Didn’t you hear the truck rolling up?”

  He shrugged in his plaid shirt before finally turning to face me. Ashton was in his sixties, with silver hair and a beard that was more salt than pepper. His face bore the lines of a man who’d been working outside all his life but couldn’t be bothered with sunscreen. His ice-blue eyes were almost swallowed up by all the crow’s feet around them.

  Wiping his forehead with a rag that came out of his back pocket, he glanced toward the truck. “That’s one of them fancy new things. They don’t roar like a real truck should. No one hears them coming.”

  I chuckled again. Ashton was a hard man and he hadn’t grown soft or friendly with age, but he was the only person I’d met since I’d founded the Hynes Group who didn’t give a flying fuck about my money or my success. Which made him pretty much the closest thing I had to an actual friend.

  “Regardless of what you think of my truck, which, might I remind you, I bought after you recommended this make and model, we’ve got some clients coming in tomorrow. They’re coming to learn how to ride, from what I could make out from the information on the booking form.”

  “How nice for them.” He cocked his head like he’d heard something and narrowed his eyes before whirling around again, sticking his head back under the porch. “I’m sure you can handle teaching some of your fellow city kids how to ride. I’ve got myself a snake to find.”