Chapter 3

They say where there's a will, there's a way. I'd better find that way, fast.

I holed up in my room for a whole day and night, racking my brain until I finally came up with a half-baked, desperate idea.

If I couldn't find a real Tommy, I'd hire one.

In a city this big, finding a man to play a part for a day couldn't be that difficult.

Time to get moving. I reached under my bed and pulled out my secret stash—10,000 dollars. This was my retirement nest egg, and I'd sworn I'd only touch it in a true life-or-death situation.

I knocked on the door and called in Grace Walker, the maid posted outside.

"Grace," I said, handing her some cash with my brightest, most persuasive smile, "I need a favor."

She took the money, her wrinkled face lighting up. "Anything for you. Just say the word."

"I need to send a message home. Tell them to send my man," I whispered, lowering my voice. "Do this right, and there's more money waiting."

Grace nodded knowingly, thumping her chest. "Leave it to me. I'll see it done."

I wrote a short note. Simple and clear. [Stupid job. Good pay. Come fast.] I added a crude sketch of the crooked old tree at the entrance to my village as a secret mark.

I handed the letter and 500 dollars to a young servant I got along with, telling him to post it at the largest hiring fair in the city.

I was looking for a single, respectable-looking man with the last name Smith. The job—well, not a real job, more like playing a part—was to act as my fiancé. No actual marriage, of course. Do it right, and he'd walk away with 2,500 dollars.

That was a small fortune back then—enough to keep a family comfortable for years.

With a reward like that, I was sure someone would take the bait.

For the next few days, I played the perfect maid—quiet, dutiful, stitching by the window. On the outside, I was the picture of calm. Inside, my heart was pacing the floors of that hiring fair in the south of the city, waiting for a miracle.

Violet kept popping by, always poking around, trying to sniff out when my "Tommy" might arrive.

I just smiled and kept my poker face, letting her choke on her own curiosity.

Dylan, for his part, was quiet, except the food he sent kept getting fancier—upgrading from four dishes and a soup to six dishes and a soup, plus dessert and fruit.

I'd eat the dessert he sent, cursing him with every spoonful.

Like a fox bringing gifts to the henhouse. He was planning something.

*****

One day, I was gnawing on a juicy chicken leg when Grace burst in, practically skipping with excitement.

"Rose, we've got one!" she shouted.

I shot up from my seat, forgetting to even swallow the chicken in my mouth. "Really? Where is he?"

"He's waiting at the back gate," Grace replied.

I was so excited that I could have danced right there.

I smoothed my dress, tucked a stray hair behind my ear, and took a steadying breath. I arranged my face into what I hoped was the proper look of a woman finally reunited with her long-awaited love, and followed Grace out.

At the back gate, a man stood with his back to me. He was tall, dressed in faded, rough-spun clothes, and looked like the very definition of a simple, honest guy.

My heart lifted. It worked. The ad actually worked.

"Ahem," I cleared my throat. "Are you... Tommy Smith?"

The man slowly turned around.

And the moment I saw his face, my blood ran cold.

He was nothing like the plain, down-to-earth country boy I'd been expecting.

He had sharp brows, bright eyes, a tall nose, and sun-kissed skin. There was a faint, confident smile at the corner of his mouth. And the real kicker? A shallow scar at his temple that made him look even more heroic.

What the heck? Where did the hiring fair find someone this high-end? Since when did they start sending out leading men for temp gigs?

"You... you're Tommy Smith?" I asked again, my voice thin with disbelief.

He gave a brief, respectful nod, his voice loud and clear. "I'm Jack Smith, not Tommy Smith. I heard you needed someone to play your fiancé. Any chance I could be the lucky guy?"

I stared at him, dumbfounded. "You're not Tommy Smith. So why'd you show up?"

He grinned, a flash of white teeth against his sun-browned skin, "Your notice never said the man had to be named Tommy Smith. And let's be honest—Jack is a much better name, isn't it?"

I was completely lost for words.

"You sure you can act?" I gave him a once-over, raising an eyebrow. "My fiancé's supposed to be a plain, honest guy. With a face like yours, you'd stand out too much."

He scratched his head and grinned, all goofy charm, "Relax, miss. I can play the part. Put me in front of your people, and I'll have them all convinced I'm the humblest farm boy from the farthest valley."

He hunched his shoulders, went slack-eyed, and even let a bit of drool slip from the corner of his mouth.

I was stunned.

Alright, this one could act.

"Two thousand and five hundred dollars. Take it or leave it?" I cut straight to the chase.

"Deal," he said, quicker than a blink. "On one condition."

"What condition?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I want a kiss from you," he murmured, suddenly leaning in so close that his warm breath tickled my ear.

My face went bright red in an instant, and I instinctively took a step back, eyeing him warily.

"Why can't you just play it straight for once?" I blurted out.

He just flashed a sly, playful grin. "Relax, girl. Just one little kiss on the cheek. Consider it... a signing bonus."

I looked at his annoyingly perfect face, then thought of the impossible mess I was in. I clenched my teeth.

No risk, no reward.

"Fine. But after the job is done," I fired back.

"Promise," he said, offering his pinky for a pinky swear.

I paused, then finally locked pinkies with him.

Just as we sealed the deal, a cold voice sliced through the air behind me. "What is this?"

I froze, as stiff as a statue, and turned my head, my movements stiff and mechanical.

Dylan stood there. His handsome face was a thundercloud, dark enough to blot out the sun.