His Contract Wife

A new man?

Leila was floored. She pinched her arm to wake herself up from this daylight nightmare, but the man didn’t disappear.

“Hi,” he murmured. “I’m Carlson.”

“Hi,” she replied. Pulling out her phone, she tapped on Carlson’s Tinder profile and zoomed in. “Um, I don’t mean to be rude, but I’m waiting for this person.”

Leila slid the phone to him so he could see the man on her screen. A tall, handsome man with blue eyes that saw into her soul, not this short man over here with brown eyes and a balding scalp. He didn’t even have a beard.

The fake Carlson laughed. Was his name even Carlson? It might be, but he wasn’t her Carlson.

“Yeah, that’s me or my profile,” he said.

Her heart rolled to her feet. The urge to wipe the smirk on his face grew, and she clenched her hands under the table. This must be a prank.

“Prove it.

“Gladly,” he replied. “You work an eight-to-five job. Your friend owns the pet you used as your profile picture.”

Right.

“I don’t believe you,” she said. He laughed again. Her misery must be funny, because why was he laughing? She grabbed her phone, stared long and hard at the man on her screen, then back at the person seated across from her. “We had a video call.”

“With my cousin,” he supplied.

Drumming her fingers on the table, she asked, “So this person is real, but it’s just not you?” Carlson nodded again. His confidence annoyed her. He should be on his knees, groveling and begging for forgiveness. Not like she would forgive him. She lost interest the minute he waved at her from the door. “You’re short.”

His face squeezed in shock, but she didn’t take back the words. He lied. He lied about everything. Even his face wasn’t the same.

“Am I?” he teased.

Her whole body had gone rigid, with her hands clenched on her lap.

“Your bio says you’re 6 foot 4, Carlson.”

“Does it?” He laughed through his reply, and her hand closed around her milkshake. She should pour the remaining content on him and call it a mistake. No, this date was a mistake. “Oops, must have meant to write 5’4.”

Leila was 5’7.

Unlike him, she didn’t find this funny. And when the dumbass finally noticed, he asked, “Does that bother you?”

“Yes. A lot, actually.” She grabbed her handbag from a nearby chair, shoved her phone into it, and withdrew some dollars to pay for her drink. Her glare froze her date in place when he offered to pay. She slapped the bills onto the table with more force than she intended. “I can pick my own tab, Carlson. Thank you very much.”

For once, he looked uncertain. Did he really think she would laugh this off? He must be out of his mind. He and his stupidly handsome cousin.

“I’m sorry,” Carlson murmured.

On her feet, she replied, “Yeah, me too.”

“You’re leaving?” he asked. No. She was getting ready to take a nap. One more stupid question out of him and she might spit on his face. He dared to look offended as she pulled the straps of her bag over her shoulder. “I thought you said appearance didn’t matter.”

“Appearance doesn’t matter when the man you’re chatting with looks like your cousin,” she snapped.

His expression crumbled, but she felt nothing. Only pity for herself. Appearances didn’t count that much like she told him earlier. But for him to lie blatantly to her and expect her to forget everything. Now, that was the height of it.

“Thank you for showing up,” she told him.

After one last fake smile directed at the waiter approaching their table, she stepped out and inhaled the Carlson-free air.

Stupid men. Stupid Tinder. Stupid her.

Walking to the gates with no clear destination in mind, she slowed when her phone rang. Before retrieving the phone from her bag, she knew it was Freya, and she was right. She kept close to the curb, the honks of cars zooming past her muffled by the earbuds she plugged in.

“You finally picked up,” Freya said. “What about your date?”

“He died,” she said. “Where are you?”

“What? How?”

Leila paused to think up a better reply. There were more people here, and they all brushed past her without so much as a glance in her direction. That was the beauty of Nightfall Hills, California. They were always too busy minding their business.

What about her date?

“Did I say die? I mean, he couldn’t make it.”

“Leilani May Collins,” Freya called in a voice associated with only one person. She winced, not from the use of her full name, but from the sad memories that came with it. As always, she pushed those images away before they swallowed her. “What happened to your date? The truth.”

Fine. She had to do better as a liar since she was terrible at it.

“I’m going to say this only once.” With a hand raised, she flagged down a taxi. It stopped in front of her, and she moved her bag to her free hand to open the backdoor. “I got catfished.”

A sigh escaped her as she settled into the backseat of the taxi. She pulled the phone from her ear to be sure Freya was still on the line.

“Where are you?” Freya whispered.

“In a taxi.”

The driver clapped to get her attention, and she held up a finger to request a minute. Freya hadn’t laughed yet. She was supposed to laugh at her misery first, then curse out Carlson. It was her style.

“I’m at Total Gardens. Come join me.”

The call ended before Leila could protest. With a big, forced smile, she told the driver, “Sorry for the wait. Please take me to Total Gardens.”

Her phone buzzed, and she rolled her eyes at the message from Carlson without opening it. She reported his Tinder account and followed it up by blocking him on all the social media platforms she had exchanged with him. Good thing she never divulged her workplace to him.

Minutes before she arrived at Total Gardens, she messaged her best friend. The taxi slowed to a stop, and someone pried her door open.

Freya. She was barely out of the cab when her friend engulfed her in a hug. She mumbled into Freya’s shoulder, “I’m deleting that app. Today.”

“Don’t,” Freya said. She paid the fare, and her friend looped an arm through her elbow, tugging her toward the reception area. The wedding was over. “He was just one guy and a f*****g liar. Doesn’t mean the rest of them are.”

“I doubt they are different,” Leila murmured. Or maybe she was unlucky.

They entered a garden decorated with flowers and Leila dipped her head before a bouquet hit her square in the face.

“Keep it until the end of this year.”

“What?” Leila cried out in horror. They were only four months into the year. She couldn’t handle another Tinder date. “No. Hell no.”

Tables had been set, with chairs arranged around them in a circular pattern. An aisle divided the tables. Beside the makeshift stage, a band played music that tugged at her heart. She still couldn’t believe Carlson was a catfish.

Freya guided her to a table and pulled out a chair for her. “Fine. What about a month?”

“No, a week.” Taking out her compact mirror, Leila smacked her lips and added another layer of red lipstick. “One more date, and I’m done.”

“Fine.” Leaning close, Freya whispered, “Some of the guests are hot. My God. Just wait.”

Leila was uninterested in them. Being single at twenty-seven wasn’t the end of the world.

“I don’t care, Freya.”

Freya laughed. “You will once you see them. Maybe you’ll have no use for Tinder anymore.”

Merely out of curiosity, she scanned the place as Freya tapped on her cell, probably chatting with her husband. It was empty except for them, the band, and the caterers setting up the meals.

Oh. There was one other person. A man.

His head was bent over his phone, so she could only admire his sideview. His black suit fit snugly to his body and each time he moved, his biceps tugged on the material. He must have felt her eyes on him because he lifted his head. His fingers ran through his hair like he was angry at something, and Leila blushed.

He was hot. Hotter than Carlson’s cousin.

He arched a brow when she continued staring, and she looked away. Picking up her phone, she pretended to type into it. He looked familiar. She might know him, but right now, she couldn’t place his face.

Freya stood. “Need to get something outside.” She could feel the stranger’s eyes on her, but she didn’t turn to confirm. Freya adjusted her hair and black dress. “How do I look?” She gave her best friend a thumbs up. As always, she was stunning. “Thanks. Have fun without me.”

She would try, but fun was more of Freya’s thing. Plus, she was still traumatized by that experience with Carlson. For now, she would just take a break.