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He gives another shrug. “Eh.”
“Not having much luck in the marriage-of-convenience search?”
Dan’s grandmother died early this year and left him a lot of money in a trust he can’t access until he gets married. Ever since, he’s been hoping to hook up with someone in a practical arrangement so he can get past that term of the trust.
It might sound bonkers to people outside Green Valley, but a lot of similar arrangements have happened in this town over the years. So much wealth concentrated in such a small community leads to weird and unnatural behavior.
“No luck.” Dan looks glum again. “Everyone told me to ask someone who could actually use the money, so I did, but she said no, thank you.”
I chuckle at this. “You didn’t creep her out, did you?”
“I don’t think so.” His frown deepens. “I hope not.” He sighs and appears to shake off the reflections. “Oh well. Back to the drawing board. You’re not interested in getting married, are you?”
My eyes widen, briefly distracted because Chase, who has been mopping the floors in preparation of closing, has gotten close to our table. It feels like he’s hovering behind me.
“I’d make it worth your while,” Dan adds in a half-amused, half-seductive tone, leaning forward across the table.
I’m about to laugh when the mop hits the legs of my chair, making me jerk in surprise. I turn my head, looking up at Chase to see if it was intentional. He gives me a bland, clueless look. “Sorry about that.”
His expression is so unfocused that I figure he was simply lost in his own thoughts and not aware he’d gotten close to my chair. “No worries.”
“Hey, Park,” Dan says with a smile. “Is this a hint that it’s time for us to get out of here?”
The coffee shop closes at nine on weekday evenings, and it’s now 8:51.
“Nope,” Chase says, mopping under my chair when I raise my feet from the floor. “Got nine more minutes.”
“Then maybe you can help me convince Paige to marry me. It would be a great money-making opportunity for her, which should appeal to an ambitious businesswoman like her.”
Chase looks at Dan for several seconds but doesn’t answer.
I snort and say, “It’s not worth it to me. I don’t need the money that bad, and I already have a boyfriend.”
“Brian Sanderson?” Dan is frowning again. “I didn’t think you and he were serious.”
“We’re not engaged or anything, but we’ve been dating for eight months. I’m not going to pick up and marry someone else even if it’s nothing but a practical arrangement.”
Dan groans and rubs his jaw. “All right. Fine. Another no then. I’m starting to take all this rejection personally.”
I giggle. “Has it never occurred to you to actually date someone and fall in love and then ask her to marry you?”
“That seems like a lot of trouble.” With a half smile, he picks up his coffee cup and stands up. “Okay. I’m out of here. See you, Paige. Park.” He nods at me and then Chase and then heads out the door.
Chase immediately mops over his footprints.
I’ve known Chase since the second grade, when his parents died in a car accident and he moved to town to live with his grandparents. Back then, they had money, but his grandfather lost almost everything in a series of bad investments and died shortly afterward from a heart attack, so Chase had to get a job in high school.
He started working at this coffee shop after school, busing tables and washing dishes and cleaning up messes. He graduated with everyone else, but he didn’t go to college like the rest of us. He stayed in town, working full time at the same job and living with his grandmother.
Years later, he’s still doing the same thing, having no interest in moving on and no particular ambitions in terms of career or social life.
I’ve never known anyone less motivated than him, but he’s impossible not to like.
I watch him now as he finishes mopping the floor. He’s about five inches taller than me with an attractive build and an unexpectedly good-looking face. His hair is a light brown that looks golden in the sun, and it’s thick and unruly and always too long. He’ll let it grow until it nearly reaches his shoulders, and then he’ll get it chopped off to jaw level, only to let it grow again.
Right now it’s about midlength, and it falls forward against his face as he bends over to work the mop. As I watch, I have the oddest impulse to push his hair back behind his ears. I wonder what it would feel like to touch—if it’s as soft and thick as it appears.
He glances over his shoulder at me, evidently sensing my regard.
