Faking It with my Billionaire Grump

11. Tilly

11

Tilly

While I’m not keen on it at all, Jake makes a suggestion when we’ve finished talking about our newfound relationship status.

“I think we should tell people,” he states plainly.

“What?” I gawk at him. “Are you mad? They hate me already.”

Jake’s face softens. “They don’t hate you, Tilly.”

“Yes, they do. I know they do. As nice as they are to my face—well, some of them, anyway—I can sense their animosity. It’s my own fault, and I get it. But it isn’t very pleasant.”

“How do you know that they hate you?”

“Mel told me,” I reply bluntly.

Jake shows surprise. “Really?”

“Yes. And she wouldn’t lie. In fact, I actually think she hasn’t told me how negatively they truly feel so she doesn’t upset me.”

“And this is recently?” Jake frowns.

“Well, no, obviously. Most of it—well, all of it was not long after I left.”

“Right,” he says. “So basically, you’re going off ten-year-old information.”

“Oh, come on, Jake. This is Baskington. People don’t forget.”

“No, but they do forgive.”

“Not that I’ve seen.”

“You haven’t really given them a chance, have you?” he counters. “When you come back to visit, you stay for no more than three days, and you spend most of it with your folks.”

“And you think telling people that we’re engaged is going to help?”

Jake smiles and shakes his head. “No. I think we should tell them that we’re pretending to be engaged and why.”

“Did your momma drop you on your head when you were little?” I blurt. “That will be even worse.”

“I don’t think so. You know how close knit we are here. What they need is a joint purpose. Imagine it. The whole town working together to get rid of an outsider.” He’s grinning from ear to ear and clearly thinks he’s just stumbled onto a perfect idea.

I, on the other hand, think he’s lost his darn mind.

On the way home, I stop by the store for a few groceries. When I get to the register, Mrs. Windrow is eyeing me carefully.

“So, you and Jake, huh?” she says, scanning my items.

Clearly, word has traveled about our date the other night, just like I knew it would. It’s on the tip of my tongue to change the subject when I hear Jake’s words playing in my head.

What they need is a joint purpose. The whole town working together to get rid of an outsider.

Is he mad or a genius? I suppose there’s only one way to find out, and who better to try it out on than Mrs. Windrow? I have a strong feeling she wouldn’t be keen on outsiders. Besides, if I tell her our plans, it will save me from having to tell anyone else. The whole town will know about it by the end of the day.

“Actually, it’s all a ploy, Mrs. Windrow,” I say with a smile.

Just like Elsa when she hears something of interest, Mrs. Windrow’s ears prick up.

“Really?” she says, bringing her scanning to a complete halt as she looks at me with wide eyes of interest.

“Uh-huh.” I nod. “My ex-boyfriend has followed me from the city. He’s not a nice man, and is now stalking me.”

“No!” she gasps. “How awful.”

“It is. So Jake and I have come up with a plan to try and get rid of him. We’re pretending to be engaged.”

Biting back a smile, I watch as Mrs. Windrow leans across the counter. “Well, if I see this stalker of yours, I’ll be certain to put him right. He has no right to come after you like that.”

I’ll be honest, I’m surprised. I expected quite a different reaction. Something like, “Well, it serves you right for what you did to Jake.” Clearly, Jake knows the townsfolk far better than me, and it occurs to me that I might have misjudged them all this time.

Walking across the parking lot, I hear my name being called. As I spin around to look, my gut clenches as I watch Bryan running across the street toward me.

“Oh, Lord.”

“I’ve been trying to call you,” he says, even before he reaches me.

“I know,” I reply when he comes to a final stop. “I’ve been ignoring you.”

He looks completely affronted by my bluntness, but I don’t care. I have realized in the last few months that it’s the only way to get through to him. He doesn’t understand tact and innuendo, and while sometimes my forthrightness has teetered on downright cruelty, it’s the only thing he seems to respond to.

“How are we supposed to sort things out when you won’t talk to me?” he says.

“I don’t want to sort things out, Bryan. It’s over. I don’t know how many times I have to tell you. In fact,” I continue, feeling my heart thump, “Jake and I are trying again.”

“Oh, don’t talk such trash,” he growls, his face grimacing in disgust.

“It’s not trash. We’re engaged.”

At this point, Bryan seems to lose his composure entirely. “You’re lying,” he yells. It’s so loud that people across the street have stopped to look. “I know exactly what you’re trying to do, and it won’t work.” His eyes then fall to my hand. “Where’s the ring? If you’re supposed to be engaged, where is it?”

I have to think on my feet, but I’m used to that with him. “Jake’s taking me to choose one in a few days.”

Bryan’s face twists in anger. “You’re lying. I know you’re lying. You’re just trying to get rid of me. Well, it won’t work. I’m going to make you see that I can give you far more than that country hick.”

I’m so tempted to throw Jake’s wealth in Bryan’s face, but I know he wouldn’t want that. Instead, I take a deep breath and say, “I have to go. Goodbye, Bryan.”

He’s still standing there when I reach the truck. Even when I drive past him on the road, I don’t look in his direction. While I had put on a brave face while we’d argued, once I’m safely driving away, my heart begins to thump in my chest, and I feel more than a little breathless.

Everything about him distresses me. Everything. That’s why I had to run away in the first place. I would never have broken free of him had I stayed, and even now, I wonder how I’m truly going to rid him from my life.

Denying the engagement is the only way he can retain control, and while he doesn’t believe it right now, maybe when the town makes mention of it to him—over and over again, like Jake hopes—he’ll finally get the message.

That’s the plan. Whether it will work, only time will tell.

A couple of days later, I arrive at Jake’s ranch. In agreeing to the fake engagement, I made the same deal as before—I’ll do whatever he needs me to do. Bringing the truck to a stop, I wonder what delights he has in store for me today. Yesterday, I whiled away my hours doing stock take for all the animal feed.

I was so exhausted after it that Jake told me I didn’t need to come back today until 10:30, and I’m right on time.

It was yet another job Jake hadn’t gotten around to, and when I asked again why he hadn’t employed someone to help him, he elaborated a little more than last time.

“I’ve had a few people help out. Sometimes they’re travelers just passing through; sometimes it’s the local kids wanting a job over the summer. I’ve just never organized anything permanent. When I’m really stuck, Joey, Phil and Chris come over and give me a hand.”

I nearly said that with all the money he had, he could have a range of staff working for him full-time, but I held my tongue. I’ve yet to mention that I know he’s a billionaire. I just don’t feel like I have the right anymore. Maybe once upon a time, but not now.

When I jump out of the truck, I smile over at Elsa, who remains lying down on the porch. We’ve become friends now, which is a great relief to me, and likely less effort for her. She really is beautiful, and when she’s not showing those extremely sharp teeth, I realize that I like her a lot.

I wander past the house, looking for Jake. I can hear the loud thumping of a hammer, so I head in that direction. As I round the corner, though, I stop dead in my tracks. Shirtless, he’s standing at a fence, hammering nails into a plank of wood. With each strike, I can see the huge muscles across his back rippling.

The whole time we were together, he was always strong, and clearly, nothing has changed. The reason my breath is currently caught in my throat is because it’s been so long since I’ve seen him half-naked. His deeply tanned skin sparkles with a layer of sweat, and as my eyes move from his wide shoulders to the narrow of his waist, I can’t seem to tear myself away.

“Morning,” he calls when he spins around and sees me.

“Hi,” I croak, swiftly moving forward, pretending I wasn’t standing there gawking at him.

He reaches for his shirt, and pulling it on, he says, “We’re heading out to the market.”

“Did you need groceries? Why didn’t you text me? I could have brought them.”

He smirks at me. “Not that kind of market.”

I frown and shrug.

“You’ll see,” he says. “Come on. Let’s go.”

Much to my surprise, we arrive at a farmer’s market about half an hour later. The place is full of cows, horses, and pigs. As Jake leads the way, I realize that I recognize a lot of the guys here. Many of them are from Baskington. As we pass them by, they say hello to Jake and nod to me.

It’s very noisy and smelly, and I’m only grateful that I wore good boots. I’m already ankle-deep in mud. We pass pen after pen, men calling out bids for animals, just like they do in an auction.

Eventually, Jake turns to me when we reach a pen of piglets. They’re all so tiny and cute—well, maybe not tiny, but way smaller than the huge pigs we passed on our way here.

“You’re going to buy a piglet?”

“Sure am,” Jake says, leaning against the fence and resting his leg on the bottom rung. Beside him, a few other farmers are gathered. Men he clearly knows, given that they strike up a conversation. Feeling like I have nothing to offer the very agriculturally based discussion, I instead gaze at the piglets and watch them frolicking around.

It’s not long after that when a guy arrives and starts calling out numbers really fast. The auction has begun, and I’m in awe of it all. Jake raises his hand several times, and when it’s all over, I come to the obvious conclusion.

“You bought one?”

“I did. Now it’s your turn.”

I shake my head. “Oh, I wouldn’t have a clue. That guy was speaking so fast I could hardly understand him.”

He smirks and shakes his head. “No. I don’t need you to buy one. I need you to jump in there and get the one I just bought.”

My eyes fly wide. “What?! No way. I’m not going in there.”

The guys beside Jake find my reaction hilarious and seem to be chuckling among themselves. Whereas I don’t find it funny at all.

“Hey. You said anything. I’m sacrificing my reputation for you. A deal’s a deal.”

I scowl at him, noting that he’s getting quite fond of that saying.

“Go on.” He nods toward the pen.

“Fine,” I huff.