The Dating Arrangement. Kerri Carpenter
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her hands in her lap and studied the bright coral nail polish that was chipping. Her mother had been harping on it earlier.
“So now that your sister’s married, your mother is trying to get you married off, even though you’re not interested.”
Again, she didn’t correct his assumption. Mainly because she didn’t want to tell him that she had been engaged. She had done the whole song and dance.
“This year is my parents’ thirtieth wedding anniversary. They’re having a huge party in a month. I think she’d like me to have a date. Or a fiancé. Or a husband.” Emerson threw her hands into the air. “It would complete the perfect family image. Amelia did her part.”
“Is your sister as pretty as you?”
Emerson sat back and swallowed, feeling her cheeks heat up. “Um, no—I mean yes—I mean... Thank you.” She bit her lip. “My sister is gorgeous. But we don’t look alike. Except for the hair color.” She ran a hand over her curly auburn hair until her fingers tangled with the floor-length veil.
“Amelia is tall and thin and beautiful. She looks like a model. I’m short and curvy and definitely not.”
Jack took her in. His gaze swept from the top of her head, over her body, all the way down to the ground. Slowly. Surely. “I think you look just fine.”
Emerson fought the urge to fidget. “Again, thank you. You’ve made me feel a lot better. You must be a really amazing bartender.”
Jack’s face fell. “I wouldn’t exactly call myself a bartender.”
She took in the various taps of beer, bottles of liquor stacked neatly on the far wall and rows of pristine glassware. “No?”
“I mean, I own this bar. Now. Recently, that is. My father passed away and left it to me.”
The emotions on her new friend’s face tugged at her heart. “I’m so sorry. About your father, I mean.” She could only imagine if something happened to her mother and she had to take over the bridal shop.
Cosmo made his way to Emerson’s chair. Then he let out a sound that sounded very close to a sigh. She picked him up again and placed him on her lap. He snuggled closer to Emerson.
“Poor thing.” Emerson rubbed her hands up and down the dog’s back, enjoying his soft fur. “I bet you miss your dad, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
She’d asked the question of the dog, but Jack answered. His word came out so softly, she wondered if he knew he’d said it. By the distant look on his face, she imagined not. She let it go.
“As you can see for yourself, The Wright Drink doesn’t exactly have the right appeal.”
Emerson took a moment to glance around the space. It needed some light—natural light, preferably. And one hell of a cleaning crew would do wonders. But all in all, she found it charming. Like an old English pub.
“I don’t know,” she said. “Seems like it just needs some tender loving care. A fresh coat of paint wouldn’t hurt either.”
“But would new paint bring customers in?”
She wasn’t sure if he was really asking her, but she decided to answer anyway. “Probably not. But if you zhuzhed up the inside, spent some time on a social media campaign and planned a couple of enticing events, you could turn things around. I’m an event planner and I’ve done plenty of grand openings for bars and restaurants, not to mention specialized events like themed nights, New Year’s Eve parties, birthday parties, you name it. You’d be surprised what attracts people.”
The air hung heavily between them. They locked eyes and it took everything in her power not to squirm from the intensity pouring out of those serious eyes.
She could feel the heat returning to her face and decided to lighten things up. “I mean, there are several ways to get customers interested in a business. I just organized the food truck festival last weekend and I know there—”
“You put that together?” He whistled long and low. “That was amazing. I heard there were two dozen trucks and they maxed out on ticket sales.”
She nodded. “The city wanted to focus on local businesses. Every food truck was owned by an Alexandria resident. To be honest, the publicity budget wasn’t very large. But word of mouth is a powerful tool. People were excited to support the trucks.”
“I got food from at least five or six places,” Jack said. “There was such great diversity.”
“Fifteen different ethnicities represented,” she said proudly. She’d worked extra hard to make sure a variety of diverse foods and cultures were included when she’d begun organizing the festival.
“Sadly, it almost didn’t happen. The organizers had wanted to do it for years, but the city kept pushing back. Said it wouldn’t bring any interest. There were a lot of things we did to make sure we would pack the festival.” She gestured around the bar. “Wouldn’t be hard to do the same kind of thing here.”
He seemed interested. “Really?”
“Off the top of my head, I would suggest a grand opening. Or a reopening, as the situation would warrant. There are several events you could begin hosting that would help garner interest.”
“Like bachelorette parties?” A pained expression crossed his face.
Emerson laughed. “I was thinking more like a weekly trivia night, regular happy-hour specials and maybe even a ladies’ night.” She didn’t even go into the social media opportunities. “You have a lot to work with here.”
Jack followed her gaze. “How do you know about all of this?”
“It’s part of my job.”
Jack leaned back suddenly. “Looks like we both have a problem to solve.”
“Trust me, it would be a lot easier to get people into this bar than it would be to get my mother off my back.”
Jack rubbed a hand along his jaw. She noticed some dark stubble and could hear a scratching noise as his fingers moved over it. Was it wrong that her mouth watered at the sight?
“How about...” he trailed off.
“What?” she asked.
“Nothing—it’s a crazy idea.”
“Come on. We’ve already bonded over my frazzled nerves and your outdated bar.”
“Okay then. Why don’t I be your boyfriend?”
Yes, please. She coughed. “Excuse me? Why would you pretend to be my boyfriend? I mean, why would anyone do something like that? You don’t even know me.”
“Because,” Jack said patiently, “I need your help too.” He gestured to the bar around him. “I don’t know if I’m going to keep this place and find someone to manage it for me, or sell it. But no matter what I do, I have to turn it around. And you’d be the perfect person to help me make that happen.”
Emerson mulled over his proposal. “So you help me with my family. I help you with the bar.”
“You got it.”
“You’re going to pretend to be my boyfriend?” She couldn’t believe she was entertaining this at all. It was nuts. “That’s a lot to ask of you.”
“It’s me being your boyfriend for one night at your parents’ party. Believe me, from the looks of it, turning this place around will be the harder part.”
She chewed on her lip. “O-okay. So we’re going to be a pretend couple. And we’ll fix up your bar.”
“And no one gets hurt,” he finished.
As she considered, a smile began spreading over his handsome face. If it weren’t for that damn