Faking It with my Billionaire Grump

15. Tilly

15

Tilly

Once Jake loads the feed into the truck, we head back to the ranch. Now I wish I’d stayed at the computer, punching numbers into an Excel sheet. If I hadn’t gone into town with him, I wouldn’t have met Bryan, and my day, the wonderful day I had enjoyed so far, wouldn’t have been completely ruined.

I’m not one to hate much in this world—it’s not the kind of person I am—but I am slowly beginning to hate Bryan Reading. I’m also so very tired. I’m tired of his texts and phone calls. I’m tired of feeling drained every time I read them. The constant worry of seeing him or meeting him is exhausting. He is exhausting.

Mel suggested that I block him. I already have on all my other social media. It’s not a bad idea, but then, when will I know if he finally leaves? Because being the arrogant ass he is, Bryan will announce it. He’ll tell me that he doesn’t need me. That his life will be better without me in it, and that I will now miss out on the wonderful life he could have given me.

Yeah. Right.

No. I won’t block him. Not until then. I want to be able to jump for joy when I get those messages.

“You know this guy means business, right?” Jake says, cutting into my thoughts as we reach the track that leads back to the ranch. “From what I saw today, he’s pretty determined to win you back.”

“That’s not really news to me.”

“I get that, Tilly, but I don’t think this guy is going to give up anytime soon.”

Great. Just what I need to hear.

“What else am I supposed to do?” I cry. “I’ve left him. I’m completely ignoring him. We’re even pretending to be engaged just to get rid of him, which is ridiculous by anybody’s standards. What does he want? Blood?”

“Maybe we should just get married,” Jake says flippantly.

I spin my head to look at him, but he’s smirking. Clearly, he’s joking, but I’m gobsmacked that he would even suggest such a thing. It took enough effort on my part to get him to agree to this fake engagement. It makes me wonder what has him so turned around.

When we get back, I get to work on the Excel sheet while Jake deals with the huge sacks of feed. I’ll admit, it’s far harder to concentrate on this stuff now. Jake’s warning is playing over and over in my head. While I should be focusing on columns of feed and fertilizer, all I can think about is how long I have to suffer Bryan’s harassment. In the end, I put a YouTube video on my phone and drown out my thoughts with some music.

An hour and a half later, I’m all done. But when I go out to let Jake know, I can’t find him anywhere. His truck’s still here, but his person is nowhere to be found.

Right.

Returning to the office, I stand with my hands on my hips. My eyes scan the room, and I notice that it clearly hasn’t been cleaned in a long time. There are several tall, but not to the ceiling, bookshelves filled with file boxes. The files are labeled with whatever is in them as well as the year. I’ll admit, Jake’s pretty organized in some things.

There are small mismatched tables pushed against two of the walls, each holding papers and documents. No doubt more farming paraphernalia. And then there are a whole lot of cardboard boxes on the floor under the tables.

Every surface has a layer of dust, and the wooden floor beneath my feet could do with a scrubbing, too. He really could use a cleaner. Not only does he need a hand outside, but he could do with it inside, too.

At least I know where the cleaning cupboard is. Once I’ve gathered all the things I think I’m going to need—a vacuum cleaner, dusters, furniture polish, a mop and bucket, and a small step ladder—I get started. The sound on my phone is a little bit tinny, so I open YouTube on his computer, and the music is playing loudly out of the very decent speakers.

“Let’s start from the top down.”

Sounds like a better plan, right? No point dusting things below if I’m going to cover them with dust from above.

I start from one side of the room and make my way around. The top of these bookshelves is filthy, and I have to wonder if they’ve been touched since his father passed away. Stretching on the stepladder, I manage to get right to the back, and when they’re all done, I make my way down each shelf.

There’s no way I’m lifting each box out. I’ll be here ‘til Christmas. Instead, I dust and polish around them the best I can. As I go, the music playing in the background, my mind wanders back to what Jake said in the truck.

Maybe we should just get married.

I know he was joking, but I can’t help wondering if it’s the only way I’ll truly get rid of Bryan, as nuts as the idea sounds. I mean, it wouldn’t be real, right?

Are you pleased or disappointed at that thought?

Honestly, I’m not sure.

Jake was always my first love. He was my only love. I didn’t leave because of anything he did. I left because of me. Of course, I’m not so na?ve to believe he is perfect. He has his faults, like we all do. But so far in my life, he’s been the best of them all.

I thought you were done with relationships?

I did say that, didn’t I? I’m being ridiculous. Anyway, Jake probably wouldn’t want me back after what I did. Okay, we’re getting along now, but as friends. Our engagement isn’t real, and nothing that has happened between us has been anything more than two friends helping each other out.

I smile when I think back to Jake throwing his arm over my shoulder earlier. He did that all the time when we were together. It was always those simple things that made me love him. The “she’s mine,” but not in a possessive way, kind of gesture.

Another lifetime, Tilly. Another lifetime.

When I’ve finished dusting all available surfaces, I plug the vacuum cleaner in. But before I start, I need to move those boxes out from beneath the tables, and so, one by one, I tug them toward me, lift them off the floor, and place them on the other side of the room.

I’m lifting the last one when the bottom of the box starts to give way.

“No. No,” I cry, lifting my knee to try and stop it.

But the box has other ideas, and the more I struggle, the more it crumples in my hands. I’m losing the battle at great speed, and a few seconds later, everything that was in it is now out of it and sitting in a pile at my feet.

“Great,” I say, now holding an empty box.

Tossing the now useless cardboard aside, I crouch down and start lifting the rather important-looking documents from the floor.

“I really hope these weren’t in any order.”

I gather several documents at a time, shuffling them together into a neat pile before placing them on the now clean tables. As I move to lift some more, several documents catch my eye, and I pause to scan over them.

One is a letter from a realtor, congratulating Jake on the purchase of a piece of land. My eyes nearly pop out of my head when I see how much he paid for it. Another document is a deed for more property. Again, it’s in the millions.

I’m absorbed in glancing at each piece of paper I lift when suddenly, I hear a voice.

“Hey.”

Automatically, I drop the papers like they’re burning my fingers, and I spin to look at Jake, who’s leaning against the doorframe with a slight smirk on his face.

“Find anything interesting?”

“I… I’m sorry. I… I was cleaning, and the box collapsed. I didn’t mean to pry.”

He shrugs, seemingly not bothered that I’ve been nosing through his personal business.

“Just make sure they’re all together when you’re done, will you?” he says nonchalantly before turning and leaving the room.

It takes another hour to finish cleaning his office, and when I’ve finally placed all the cleaning gear back in the cupboard, I go in search of Jake. I find him leaning against the fence of the pigpen, watching the pigs.

“Oh, look,” I say, spotting the piglet. “There’s my buddy.”

Jake flashes me a grin. “Not what you were saying a few days ago.”

“No. A few days ago, I could have easily imagined you and him hanging on a hook. More you than him. He did nothing wrong.”

We don’t speak for a minute and instead watch the pigs shove past each other, grunting and vying for food.

“Did you know?” he asks.

“Did I know what?”

He nods back at the house, and I realize what he’s talking about.

“Mel told me,” I say.

“Figures. I’d be pretty surprised if someone hadn’t mentioned it.” He pauses for a second and then says, “I don’t advertise it, Tilly.”

I’m confused by his words. “You live in Baskington. Surely, everyone knows.”

“I’m not talking about the people here.”

“Right,” I say, understanding his meaning. In other words, keep my mouth shut about what I know, especially to the likes of Bryan.

Thinking about Bryan, not that I enjoy doing so, Jake’s suggestion returns to my mind. I’m pretty sure he was just joking, but what if he wasn’t? And what if his flippant suggestion is the answer to my prayers, the answer to finally getting rid of the control freak who continues to try to ruin my life?

I want to ask him, but I’m terrified. What if he laughs in my face? Or worse, what if he looks horrified? I’ve been through enough these last nine months, and in the most unusual of circumstances, I’ve attached myself to Jake again. I trust him. I look up to him. Literally and figuratively. Will I ruin all that?

You’re overthinking this. He agreed to the fake engagement. What’s the difference?

A whole lot, I reckon. But I have to ask him. I just have to know.

Taking a deep breath because I might be about to make the biggest fool of myself ever, not that I haven’t been doing a great job of that lately, I begin.

“You know what you said earlier in the truck…?”

“About getting married?” Jake says.

I’m stunned that he knows exactly what I am referring to. There was a time when I wouldn’t have been surprised at all. There was a time when we both knew what the other was thinking all the time.

“Yes. That.”

He stands and turns to look at me. His eyes are soft, and yet, I can see him searching my face, like he’s trying to figure something out.

“What about it?”

“Were you just joking?” I ask timidly.

Again, he gives me a long look. “Would you prefer that I was joking?”

It has occurred to me since I’ve been coming to the ranch that Jake is far smarter than I ever remembered. Even now, he’s throwing the ball back into my court so he doesn’t say the wrong thing. But this isn’t helping.

“That’s not what I’m asking, Jake.”

“You want to know if I would consider a fake marriage to get rid of Bryan?” he says calmly, like it’s something one might discuss every day of the week.

I nod. “Yes, I do.”