Faking It with my Billionaire Grump

18. Jake

18

Jake

It’s weird having someone else in the house, even weirder that it’s Tilly. Before she left, this would have been the dream for our future. Sure, Dad was still around then, but the house is big enough that we could have stayed here. It just feels bizarre that it’s happening now.

I’m under no illusion, though. This is not real, and I have to keep that at the forefront of my mind. Some days, it’s harder than others, like the other day when Tilly fell off the ladder and nearly broke her neck.

There was a moment there, a moment that reminded me of our old days—the way we used to look at each other. But Tilly made swift work of that, and the moment was gone. She was embarrassed—I know that—but she was also uncomfortable, which is why I know that this isn’t real.

Her being here is more like having a housemate than a wife. And though I have no idea how long this pretense will go on, I’m not really in any rush for her to go.

Careful, Jake.

Yes, I’ll admit it: I’ve warmed up to her a lot more since she arrived back in town. Maybe it’s because I can see how vulnerable she is. Once upon a time, Tilly Collins was a woman who knew what she wanted and fiercely went after it. That is not the same person who now shares this huge house with me.

While I don’t know for certain because she hasn’t really told me a great deal about what went on, I have a pretty good idea that her lack of confidence might have something to do with that Bryan guy. Clearly, he’s a piece of work. How she ended up with him in the first place is beyond me. Who knows? Maybe things were different at the beginning.

“He wasn’t always the way he is now,” Tilly says when I eventually ask her about it, early on Saturday morning.

We’re out on the porch again, drinking coffee. This is my second. I’m an early riser, Tilly, not so much.

“What changed?”

She shrugs. “He did. It took me far too long to work out that he wasn’t who I thought he was. Or should I say, who he portrayed himself to be in the beginning? But then, control freak narcissists never show their true colors at the start, do they?”

I don’t reply to that. I figure it’s more of a rhetorical question. Besides, I don’t know any control freak narcissists to be able to comment.

“I thought he was a good guy,” she continues. “We were introduced by one of my work colleagues and seemed to hit it off straight away. In fact”—she snorts derisively and shakes her head—“he even played hard to get. Like an idiot, I pursued him, but now I know the game he was playing. At the time, I suppose I was too na?ve. I didn’t know the signs because I’d never experienced them before.”

I can’t help feeling the slightest twinge of pain at her words. She’d left me—a decent guy, I think—and ended up chasing someone like Bryan? Maybe I shouldn’t compare, but I can’t help myself.

“How long were you guys together?” I ask.

“Three years, but the last six months… well, even longer than that, really, things have just gone from bad to worse. I should have left a long time ago, but…”

She trails off, but I don’t push it. Talking about it obviously doesn’t make her feel good, and I don’t want her feeling bad anymore.

“Well, he should have heard about our marriage by now,” I say. “Maybe he’ll get the hint and head back to the city.”

“He’s already gone,” Tilly says wistfully.

“Really?” I gasp.

When she looks at me, I’m surprised she’s not happier. Instead, she looks forlorn. “Don’t get excited. He only went back for a meeting, or so he told me when he texted me a couple of days ago. He’ll be back. I just know it.”

After dropping Tilly off to see her parents, and her reassuring me that Gerry would bring her back in time to get ready for tonight, I spend the rest of the day dealing with the day-to-day running of the ranch.

My thoughts are awash with our morning conversation. While I already know I don’t like the guy who’s chasing after her, my feelings toward Bryan are now more intense. He’s hurt her; I know he has. Clearly not physically, but he’s broken her heart.

Just like she broke yours.

It’s not the same.

Sure, it is. Maybe karma worked its magic.

Even if that’s the case, it doesn’t give me any satisfaction. Sure, Tilly did me wrong, but I wouldn’t want her to suffer just to appease some need for revenge. I loved her. I only wanted the best for her.

But like my Pops always said, “If it’s for you, it won’t go by you.”

He heard that saying when he visited Ireland in his youth. He liked it, and so, it stuck. Funnily enough, it hasn’t been proven wrong in my case, so I’ve lived by the same motto. When Tilly left, I thought it was something, somewhere trying to tell me that we weren’t meant to be. But now that she’s back, I have to wonder.

She’s running away from a broken relationship. Are you insane?

Maybe I am. Maybe I’m not. I just know that without any effort, she’s made her way back into my heart and mind.

I’m waiting by the truck when Tilly comes flying out of the house.

“Sorry,” she cries.

She’s kept me waiting for twenty minutes, but as I watch her skipping over to me—her tight jeans hugging her slender legs and tucked into her cowboy boots, the vest top covered with an open plaid shirt that’s flapping behind her, and her two braids bouncing in front of her shoulders—I’m too mesmerized to complain.

“Just get in, or we’ll miss the last dance,” I tease.

She sticks out her tongue and then yanks the passenger door open while I climb in on the other side. A waft of her aroma fills the cab, and I have to stop myself from taking a long inhale to breathe her in. It’s a sweet aroma that I haven’t smelled before, but boy, does it do something to my stomach.

“Ready, Mrs. Coulter?” I smirk.

“Ready, Mr. Coulter,” she says, grinning widely at me.

Then I start the truck, and we drive away.

When we get to the hoedown, there are already a hundred or more cars parked on the adjoining field. I wave to Tommy, who’s directing the traffic, and he grins and waves back. We’re probably the last to arrive, so it won’t be long until he’s inside, enjoying himself.

With the truck parked, we cross the field and make our way to the Big Barn. It’s been called that for as long as I can remember. It used to belong to Jimmy Cane, but sadly, the old man passed quite a few years back.

In his will, the town was surprised to discover that he’d donated the Big Barn and the adjoining field to Baskington so that the annual hoedown could live on in the town’s history. In memory of him, the town grouped together and bought a plaque that sits proudly on the side of the old wooden building.

Outside the barn, there’s a huge marquee, and I can already smell the wafts of barbecued burgers, sausages, and ribs. There are some fairground rides further back, and the squeals of the riders echo across the air.

“This hasn’t changed a bit,” Tilly breathes as we near the barn.

There’s something in her voice that makes me stop and look at her. “You okay?”

She looks a little bashful. “I’m nervous. I haven’t seen everyone in the town yet, and, well…”

“Tilly. It’ll be fine. I’ve already told you. Your past is your past.”

She still doesn’t look certain, and impulsively, I offer my hand. She looks at it, then looks at me, and then at my hand again. After a few more seconds, she puts her hand in mine, and we carry on.

I don’t show it, but the sensation of her soft skin against my calloused palm sends shivers across my body. It’s the same sensation I experienced when I caught her the other day. I felt the sparks between us then, and they’re no less explosive now.

Inside the barn, the muted music we heard outside is ten times louder, and at the other end, the band plays on an elevated stage. There are strings of twinkling fairy lights strung across the high beams, and the scent of fresh hay mingles with all the other aromas that dance on the air.

“You want a beer?” I ask.

Tilly nods and smiles. “Sure.”

“Okay. Wait here. I’ll be right back.”

As I head toward the bar at the rear, I spot the guys already merrily enjoying the festivities. Upon seeing me, they all cry out in a welcoming roar.

“Here he is. The married man,” Chris chuckles.

I roll my eyes and lift a hand to the bartender, who nods and approaches.

“Two beers, please.”

The bartender heads away to get them, and I turn to the guys.

“Is she here with you?” Phil asks.

“No. I thought I’d leave her back at the house by herself,” I quip back sarcastically.

The others laugh, and then I turn and point her out. As far as I know, none of them have seen Tilly yet, even though she’s been back a few weeks.

“Wow, she hasn’t changed a bit,” Joey gasps.

“What were you expecting?” I say, a bit surprised.

“I don’t know.” Joey shrugs.

I shake my head at him and turn back to the bar at the same time the bartender hands over the beers.

“Come on,” I say to the others. “I want you to say hello. Tilly’s nervous and thinks the whole town hates her.”

When we get to her, there are hugs all around, and I’m super proud of the guys for making Tilly feel welcome. I didn’t need to ask. I knew they would have my back.

“So, Mrs. Coulter,” Chris says with a wink. “How’s married life?”

Tilly giggles. “Well, apart from Jake’s incessant snoring, everything’s just peachy.”

This sets the guys off laughing.

“I do not snore,” I say, pretending to be offended.

“Have you ever noticed how tired your animals are?” she comes back. “That’s because the noise you make keeps the whole ranch up half the night.”

We banter for a little while longer, and then I ask Tilly if she wants to dance.

“It’ll be our first dance as a married couple,” I say.

She smirks at me, smiles back at the guys, and then we make our way to the dance floor.