The Bride (The Bride #1)(41)

The banker smile was back. Now all of Mr. Connelly’s attention was focused on Jake. Even though it was my ranch and my loan.

Mr. Connelly walked us through everything that would be required while I sat and basically seethed. Because little did Mr. Connelly know, I ran the money in our house. I would be pulling together all the documents required, filling out the application.

We left the bank and I allowed my anger to explode as I punched the air.

“That was bull! That was sexism. Ageism. All the isms.”

“Get over it, Ellie. That’s how life works.”

“So unfair.”

“It is. But it’s done. We’ll get the money, we’ll get the operation back up and running. Today was a good day.”

I looked at Jake and wanted to scream. We were trapped. Together. For the undefined future. Well, worst case was until I turned twenty-one. My mom had a life insurance policy that when she died my dad put into a trust for me. It wasn’t a ton of money, but enough to pay off Jake and the loan we just applied for.

“Want to grab some lunch?” Jake asked me.

Internally I sighed. Three years. It wasn’t that long of a time, but it was also forever. Because now we had the elephant living with us and it didn’t look like Jake had any intention of addressing it.

“Sure,” I said.

We made our way to the diner and took our normal booth. Kathy stopped by with smiles and coffee for both of us.

“What do you think people are going to say?” I asked.

“About what?” Jake said from behind his menu.

“About us now that we’re staying married.”

He shrugged.

“We could make a statement,” I suggested.

That got his attention.

“What are you talking about?”

“Famous people do it all the time. You send out a statement saying what went down. That way there’s no speculation, it’s just out there.”

“We’re not famous.”

“We’re famous in Riverbend, Jake.”

He leaned back in the booth. “Okay. I’ll humor you. What will this statement say?”

“That because of the storm, circumstances require we continue our platonic marriage of convenience.”

He laughed. “You want to tell people we’re not having sex.”

“Yes. I know it’s one of the reasons you’ve been so mad…”

“I haven’t been mad at you, Ellie.”

“Well it feels like it, Jake.”

That had him snapping his mouth closed.

“Anyway,” I carried on, “I know it bothers you. That people might think that of you. Especially now that we’re going to stay married. If we tell everyone upfront, then it’s out there. As fact.”

Jake leaned forward across the table. “Ellie we make a ‘statement’ that we’re not having sex and everyone is going to think we’ve been fucking our brains out. We say nothing, then at least it leaves it open for debate.”

I was not going to think about how I felt after a statement like fucking our brains out. Nor was I thinking about what that might look like. With his naked penis.

“What are you going to do for three years?”

“About what?”

“Sex, Jake. Sex. Are you going to be making more trips to Missoula?”

“Ellie,” he said with a warning tone. “I’m not having this conversation with you.”

I held up my hands. “Sorry. You don’t get to pull that anymore. I’m going to be eighteen next week. You have needs. I get that. What about me? I have needs too, Jake!”

It was very unfortunate timing on my part, as Kathy chose just that moment to come by to take our orders. Her expression was as awkward as I felt.

“Like right now I need a tuna open-melt sandwich with American.” I smiled at Kathy.

“Got it. Open T with Am. You, Jake?”

“I’ll do the same.”

“Yep. Be back in a few. Minutes. It should only take a few minutes,” Kathy said, basically letting us know her schedule so we could plan our sex conversation accordingly.

Jake just gave me the look.

“Okay,” I said. “Awkward. Fine. But that doesn’t change anything. We’ve mutually agreed we’re not going to satisfy those needs for each other, so I want to know how we’re going to do this. For three fucking years.”

“You shouldn’t swear.”

“Fuck you.”

That made him smile. “Okay. You’re saying we need new rules. But do we have to do this now and here? At Frank’s?”

“No,” I allowed. “I only wanted to put it out there that we can’t run away from the conversation. And the kid card no longer applies. Next week I’m an adult and I want to be treated that way.”

“Fine.”

“Fine,” I returned. “Speaking of, what are you getting me for my birthday? We don’t have any money left, so you’re going to have to be creative. Like baking a cake would totally count this year.”

“I’m not baking you a cake.”

“I love cake.”

“I’m not baking you a cake,” he repeated.

“Because men don’t bake? Some of the world’s most famous pastry chefs are men.”