Bargaining with the Bride(12)

Rachael had a secret weapon, though. She knew her wardrobe—clearance special clothes galore, and every single item was a different shade. Finally, this was something he wouldn't be able to guess.

"Well, obviously your favorite color is..." He trailed off, smiling to try and hide his frustration.

It didn't work.

"Do tell?" She beamed.

"It's purple," he said. Too casually.

And genuinely incorrect.

"Nope. Next question?" Rachael smirked.

"Okay, the score is tied. One more question, then I actually have to work. Since, you know, this is an office and everything. Square?" Natalie asked, refilling her coffee.

They both agreed, staring each other down as they waited for the last question to decide who was the weak, and who was the strong.

"What is your spouse's favorite meal?" Natalie pointed to Garret.

"Pork fried rice." Garret didn't even bother pausing for breath. The bastard.

"Well—"

"Don't lie. Every time we order lunch, you want Chinese. Whenever we get Chinese, you get the same thing. It's your favorite." The bored, convinced tone in his voice made correcting him all the sweeter.

"Except that my favorite food is meatloaf."

"Meatloaf? Whose favorite food is meatloaf? You’re on death row, and you turn to the warden to order your last meal, and you say, ‘Yes, I’d like your finest meatloaf’?"

"It's a delicious and misunderstood staple of American society," Rachael crossed her legs, smirking in her victory. She knew it. She shouldn't have been so worried after all. What could he possibly know from spending eight, okay, fourteen, hours a day working with her? Nothing.

Though, in the end, that still sort of made her the loser, didn't it?

"Well, then, what's my favorite meal?"

"You seem like a fillet mignon type of guy. Mashed red potatoes. Probably a snooty vegetable. Like asparagus."

"There are snooty vegetables?" Natalie chuckled.

Rachael hushed her, "Not now, we need to find out who the winner is and who will go to bed on a tear-stained pillow."

"You mean for those of us who actually sleep on pillows and not on Xerox machines?" He jibed.

"Enough with the smack talk. Out with it."

"We're at a stale mate. Which, I think, means that Natalie has to work for the full day. Pity." Garret got up from his seat and began carrying the chair over to the table and Rachael mimicked him.

"I don't remember that being a part—" Natalie started, but Garret held up his hand to silence her.

"I didn't think you would. But didn't you say you needed to get back to work?" He raised an eyebrow, and Natalie stomped off, grumbling silent protests as she went. The words "stupid," and "unfair" were muttered a little louder than any of her other incoherent complaints.

"So are you willing to concede defeat?" Rachael hadn't bothered to get up. Instead, she watched Garret pace around the kitchen as he surveyed the land, straightening boxes of sweetener and fixing chairs into their correct places.

"Oh contraire. I'm intrigued now. Before, it was a service. Now it's a game." He smiled in a way that looked almost, well, roguish. It sounded stupid even as she thought it to herself, but if she didn't know him, she would think that he looked debonair. Like one of those nineteen forties guys who complimented ladies on her gams before swinging them around to a big band tune.

His face even fit that classically handsome mold—like Clark Gable or Lawrence Olivier. Rugged. Charming.

And now more than ever, particularly dangerous.

"It was a game. A game that you lost." She sat her coffee on top of the fridge after she'd moved from her chair, replacing it in front of one of the small kitchen tables.

"A game that we tied. Besides, you made a deal. Unless, of course, you don't want to get married?" He raised his eyebrows, and she realized with a jolt exactly how stupid she was being. He wasn't threatening her. It was the exact opposite of all that. He was helping her with something vitally important.

And besides, it wasn't like there was anything to fear about being around him all the time other than his work addiction rubbing off on her. They simply weren’t attracted to each other. If that had been a concern, she would have known by now, what with all the long nights they'd spent together on one project or another.

No, this was perfect.

Beyond perfect.

Garret was determined to be the husband she needed, and she could be the bride she was supposed to be. All they needed was a good story and some serious rehearsals. Like a bad high school play. Easy peasy.

"You're right." She couldn't shake the uneasy feeling in her stomach, so rather than deal with it, she did the one thing she knew how to do—she ran. "But I have work to do, too. And people will be here soon, so...you know."