Page 9 of Gin and Bear It

“You did?”

Her eyebrow arches over the top of her glasses. “Waylon told me everything. Your grandfather was a dick for making all of you do a thing you don’t want to do to get your inheritance. And no, I’m not marrying you.”

“But you need a husband.” I frown. I didn’t think this would be easy, but I didn’t expect to get shut down so fast.

“No, I need a marriage built on true love.” She gives me a scathing look while she pets Lady, who’s oblivious to the tension. And basically everything else around her.

“Wait, your grandparents really put true love into their will?” I scoff, which won’t earn me any points. “What did you do to deserve that?”

Her glare somehow becomes even more scathing. “It’s complicated. But not malicious.”

“I need to understand, because if you’re Miss True Love is the Foundation of the World trying to find a husband in six months, you’re probably desperate.”

She heaves a sigh and glances behind me. For a moment I think she’s going to tell me to fuck off, but she speaks.

“Long story short, a bunch of little white-ish lies fucked me over. My grandmother thought I was going to get married to my ex, but we were actually broken up. She wanted to nudge him to propose like he said he would—for reasons I can’t figure out—and now I’m here. Single as hell but needing a husband.”

“Within six months.”

“Right.”

Jada’s hot and the kind of outgoing that I know a lot of men would be into. But finding a husband in general isn’t like walking into a store and buying a coffee. She’s going to have a hard time.

“But you’re still trying to get married by then. Why bother if true love is such a high bar?” I ask.

“Why would I give up?” She looks at me like I’ve suggested she eat all of the knickknacks on the walls one by one. “The hotel is my family’s legacy. And Jepsen’s, too. I’ve worked there since I was a teenager. It’d be a slap in the face to give up.”

She speaks with more conviction than I’ve ever felt in my life, even when it comes to our stolen royalties. I’d admire it more if that conviction wasn’t getting in the way of me solving all my problems.

“But you won’t marry me to get it?” I ask.

“The marriage has to be built on true love,” she says again. “And that’s what I’ve always wanted anyway, so I’m going to try to do both. Even if it feels impossible right now.”

She pets Lady’s belly while I mentally grasp for straws.

She wants this so fucking bad but still flat-out refuses me?

An unfamiliar sting makes its way into my chest. She doesn’t like me, sure. But I didn’t know she disliked me this much.

Has that ever stopped me before, though?

“No offense, but how could they even know that you’re truly in love? Can’t you fake it?” I ask. “Then you get your inheritance. And so do I. You can go on to do whatever it is you want to do with your inheritance.”

“Full offense, but I couldn’t fake being in love with you to save my life.” She pushes her glasses up on her nose. The hot librarian look is doing it for me, even though she just shot me down again. “And again, that’s not the point. The point is that I want to be in love, and I also need to be in love. So whether or not I can fake it doesn’t matter to me. And no one would believe we were in love even if I could.”

That stings again, even though she’s right. But our physical chemistry, whether it was our sweet-but-slightly-awkward kiss in high school or the near kiss at Wes’s wedding, is undeniable.

“No one knows about our history,” I say, lowering my voice. “Right?”

I’m assuming. If Waylon knew I’d been a dick to her going back over a decade, he would have kicked my ass (which I deserved). I didn’t think he had it in him until I accidentally hit on Bianca before I knew who she was. The death stare he gave me still sticks in my memory.

She plays with her glasses again, then looks up at me through her lashes. Her eyes flick to my exposed forearms and she fiddles with her glasses even more.

“No, but who would believe we’re in a relationship? You’ve been back in Jepsen for a few days, right? That’s hardly enough time to build a relationship.”

“I was here for a week or so around Thanksgiving, too. People have married in way less time than that, especially with the internet,” I say. “We could have reconnected around Thanksgiving and talked the whole time. We could have met up in Nashville for all everyone else knows. Kept things quiet.”

She bites the inside of her cheek. Am I getting through to her?