No Love Allowed (Dodge Cove Trilogy #1) (6 page)

Even the grunt work he had been given at the firm couldn’t stop him from planning out his proposal. How he would approach her about it. How he would broach the subject. He even practiced
it in front of a mirror. When that creeped him out, he practiced on Nathan. When Nathan annoyed him by grotesquely imitating someone he hadn’t met, he practiced on Preston.

But it still took Caleb days to actually arrive at Didi’s door, despite thinking about her nonstop.

A girl taking over his brain like that had never happened before. Maybe desperation did that to a guy. If she didn’t say yes, he had no idea what he would do. And now he had her exactly
where he wanted her. At a McDonald’s. Scratch that. Not exactly where he wanted her. He had originally planned to take her to a family-owned Italian place across town he loved. But men
running out of time couldn’t be choosers. If Didi wanted a Big Mac with a side of bursting his ego, then she would have it.

He just hoped Nathan would never find out. His cousin would never get caught dead standing beside, let alone inside, any fast-food establishment. Thinking of the calories would have given him an
aneurism.

Feeling out of his element, he watched Didi walk up to the counter as if she had done it countless times before. Speaking quickly, she asked for a No. 1, supersized. The pimply-faced cashier
punched in her order and turned to grab a burger in a box, a bucket of fries, and a drink the size of a gasoline can. Caleb blinked several times before he could find the words.

“You’re going to eat all that?” he asked, openly staring.

Instead of answering him, Didi said to the guy across from them, “That reminds me, one hot fudge sundae as well, please.” Only when the guy turned to get what she had asked for did
she look at him. “What do you want?”

He flicked his gaze toward the overhead menu. “Um . . .”

“Don’t tell me you’ve never had fast food before.”

His jaw clicked shut. “McDonald’s isn’t exactly what I call food. If we want burgers, we can grab some at the country club, or choose one of the many other restaurants in town.
You sure I can’t persuade you to go somewhere else? I know this Italian place. I’m pretty sure they’ll let you in.” He gestured at her from head to toe.

Nothing seemed to faze her. Instead of frowning at his blatant insult, or worse, throwing some sort of fit like the girls he was used to, she smiled brightly. “Oh, we’re totally not
leaving now. Not when I know you’re a fast-food virgin.” He opened his mouth to argue, but she was already ordering the same thing she was having for him.

The next thing he knew he was paying for food that cost less than the gas he had used to drive to her place. Didi shoved the tray into his hands. Trying hard not to spill their liter-sized
drinks, all he could do was follow her to a corner booth at the back.

Didi slid onto one bench while he gingerly placed the tray on the table. Then he sat down opposite her, ignoring the way the back of his pants seemed to cling to the bench, and praying whatever
he was sitting on didn’t stain. He still had a shift at the firm later. Huh. Could he write this off as a working lunch? After all, it did involve a business proposition.

Speaking of business, it was time to get back on track. Caleb tried to remember his carefully rehearsed speech, but he was distracted by what was happening. Didi lifted the stacked burger from
its box, took one careful bite, then replaced it into the box. Next she pinched a ketchup packet between her teeth and tore it open. Taking a single fry from the heap, she slid the open corner over
the fried potato like she was squeezing toothpaste onto the bristles of a toothbrush. Once a neat red line ran along the fry, she popped the entire thing into her mouth and chewed merrily. After
swallowing, she took a sip from her drink and repeated the process over again while Caleb stared, speechless. Burger bite, ketchup on fry, sip of drink, repeat.

“You’re not eating,” she said after swallowing the sip of soda.

“Has anyone ever told you that you have a deliberate way of eating?”

She tilted her head. He could see the gears inside working. He knew the instant when what he had said clicked. Her eyes narrowed, then widened just as fast. “Oh! You mean the way I eat a
burger in a circular pattern?”

For the second time that day Caleb was struck dumb. His gaze moved to her burger. She had indeed been following the circumference of the thing masquerading as food while eating.

“Why is that?” he blurted out.

Picking up the burger, she said, “The regular way spills all the guts out before you can even finish your food. This way you can enjoy the entire burger without making as big a mess. Plus,
they usually place the pickle in the middle. That’s my favorite part, so I leave it for last.” She put her thumb into her mouth and sucked, ending with an audible
pop
that made
him swallow for some reason. She bit into her burger and replaced the still circular mass in its box. Then she covered her mouth while chewing to ask, “So, what’s this proposal of
yours?”

FOR A SECOND
Caleb doubted his decision to involve Didi in all this. She intrigued him too much. Even the way she ate a
fucking burger fascinated him. That was more interest than he had ever given his other girlfriends. Well, granted she would only play his
fake
girlfriend, but it was clear Didi stood out.
She didn’t fit his usual profile. She was too open, too . . .
real
, for the lack of a better word. His world revolved around the fake—where everyone pretended for the sake of
appearances. Could she navigate the tricky social circles? The girls he had been with knew what they were getting into because they grew up attending the same functions and interacting with the
same people—
his people
.

He mentally shook his head. No point worrying about things he couldn’t change. Breaking up with Amber had backed him into a corner. Which had forced him to fish outside his usual pond.
With time running out, he was fresh out of options. Usually he flirted his way to getting what he wanted. Unfortunately he got the distinct feeling Didi wouldn’t go for that tactic. So he
went with direct.

He let her complete another eating cycle, then leaned in and came out with it. “I need you to pretend to be my girlfriend.”

She swallowed her soda wrong and started coughing. When he moved to offer help, she shook her head emphatically at him. Placing a hand on her chest, she rode out the coughing fit by drinking
some more.

After a couple more tiny coughs and a hiccup, she managed to squeak out, “I would think a good-looking guy like you wouldn’t have problems getting a girlfriend.”

He ignored the backhanded compliment. “It’s not that simple. I don’t need a girlfriend. I just need someone to
pretend
to be my girlfriend. I have events I must
attend, and having a date will make things a hundred times easier.”

“And why is that?”

Expecting the question, he scanned through his prepared answers. He intended to be honest with Didi. He had no real secrets. If she asked, he would answer.

“Do you know who my father is?” At her slight head shake for no, he thought maybe this was a good thing. Ignorance was bliss, after all. “Simply put, he’s a high-profile
lawyer. The girl I broke up with at the club is the daughter of one of his most important clients.” The words stuck to the roof of his mouth. He had to force himself to keep speaking.
“She ran to daddy, and now I’m in this mess. To make up for my mistake, I need to attend all the events sponsored by my father’s firm.” He left out the internship and the
need to stay out of trouble. That information had no connection to what he was asking her to do.

Her eyes narrowed. “And you need a girlfriend because . . .”

He admired the shrewd intelligence behind those burnt-caramel eyes. “Because going alone means I’ll be mobbed by matchmaking mothers, aunts, and grandmothers. Not to mention the
unattached girls angling to catch my attention. Trust me. It’s like blood in the water. The sharks circle. It’s been my experience that bringing along a girlfriend—”

“Keeps the sharks away,” she interrupted, shaking her head slowly with a disbelieving smile.

Shifting in his seat slightly, he had a sinking feeling she was about to say no. “Something like that.”

She snorted. “You are so full of it. But if that’s the case, why break up with Ashley?”

The barbs in her tone deflated his ego even more.

“Her name is Amber,” he said. “And she broke my number one rule.” He waved off the obvious question based on her confused expression. “But that doesn’t matter
anymore. What matters is I’m here eating junk food with you asking if you would help me . . . just until the end of the summer.”

“Then tell me”—she looked straight at him—“why me?”

For asking that question, not with any kind of hostility or suspicion, but with what seemed like genuine curiosity, he respected her more. The answer was simple. “Because you were able to
walk away at the dock the other day. That tells me you know your limits. But the real question is: Are you willing to help me?”

The fry she was about to pop into her mouth remained suspended. There went the cogs working again. She had such an honest face. She hid nothing, which might be a problem, considering he was
convincing her to step into a world of smoke and mirrors.

Her answer came quick and curt. “Yes.”

Disbelief hit him square in the chest. Had she actually just agreed? Then relief followed, but before it could take root she followed up her response with: “Looks to me like this is a lot
of trouble to go through for the plea sure of my company at parties.”

Smart and perceptive with a hint of spice for flavor. It was a lethal combination that he appreciated more than he cared to admit. His gut told him this was going to be a huge mistake. “I
was accepted into Yale.”

“Impressive,” she said, but her face remained passive.

“And something my father wants.”

“Ah.” She nodded as if she had reached some conclusion. “You’re one of those.”

He challenged her by raising an eyebrow. “Enlighten me.”

“A Daddy Pleaser.” She set down her fry and stuck that maddening thumb into her mouth again and sucked.

“You are so off.”

“Really?”

She seemed genuinely interested, so he indulged her. “Going to Yale is the last thing I want.” He sighed, rubbing his jaw. “I also got accepted to two other universities,
including Loyola. It was part of the deal.”

“What deal?”

“Senior year I made a deal with my father that if I got into Yale and at least two other places he would let me take a gap year.” The clarity in her eyes told him she was beginning
to see the picture he was painting. But just so she understood him properly, he said, “Breaking up with Amber messed with my plans. Now if I don’t attend all the events and make nice
with everyone, my father will not allow me to defer admission. It’s straight to Yale and the life he has mapped out for me.”

“And that’s your worst nightmare.”

“You’re getting it. Having you attend the parties with me will make things go smoother. I’ll be honest, with the first event looming, you’re my only option.”

“Burned through your harem of females, huh?”

“Please don’t make it sound . . .”

“Misogynistic?”

He hazarded a sip of his own drink to ease the drying of his throat and quickly gave up when the first tablespoon of sugar coated his tongue. “They all agreed to a no-strings-attached
relationship. I made sure they understood the rules before we ever started dating.”

“And as soon as they broke one you cut them loose.”

“No. There’s only one rule I’m strict about enforcing.”

“And that is?”

In all seriousness, he said, “You cannot fall in love with me.”

“Me?” Didi let out a
pfft
sound. “Fall in love with you? Ha! More like the other way around.” She pointed at him for emphasis. “Have you ever considered
that
you
might fall in love with
me
?”

He leaned back and smiled. “Don’t worry. Not going to happen.”

She shrugged that maddening one-shoulder shrug. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Pretending he didn’t notice that smug grin of hers, the one that tempted him to pull her across the table and kiss it away, he kept talking as she returned to her food. “Since
we’re clear that feelings are off the table, here are a few more ground rules.” He tapped the table with a fingertip. “You need to attend all the events with me. This means
you’ll have to be on call whenever I might need you. Do you have a curfew?”

“No,” she said without hesitation. “And since I don’t have a job right now, I’m all yours.”

Another shred of doubt unsettled him. “You’re taking this too casually. Won’t your parents mind?”

She thoughtfully munched on a particularly long strip of fry. No potato grew that big. “Why shouldn’t I take it casually? My mom juggles jobs like balls and my dad is out of the
picture.”

“Dead?”

“More like deadbeat asshole.”

He grunted at her frank admission.

“It’s not like I have anything better to do besides paint. Plus, it’s attending parties. Who doesn’t like parties?”

Not him. He would rather be sitting by the pool reading and planning his trip, but she didn’t have to know that. “They aren’t just parties. You need to dress for them. Nothing
like what you’re wearing now.”

“You really have a thing for what I wear, huh?”

For some reason his cheeks burned. “Dressing the part is important. You need to look presentable. That means dresses.”

As if insulted, she said, “I have dresses.”

“Good.” He nodded. “The first event is a garden party, so a summer dress would do.”

“When is it?”

“Day after tomorrow. I will pick you up at nine sharp.”

“In the morning?”

Her surprise pulled another smile out of him. “Will that be a problem?”

“I’ll set my alarm,” she grumbled. “What’s the next ground rule? How many are there?”

“Not that many, actually. The rest I can tell you as we go. I’m not a control freak.” He sat through an adorable eye roll from her, which brought him to one of his main
concerns. “You’re expected to interact with people. The same people you used to serve at the country club.” He paused, letting the silent meaning behind his words sink in. When it
did, he continued. “That means no repeat performances of the little outburst you treated me to. No matter how much I enjoyed it.”