A Nice Boy: Arranged Marriage Romance Read online

  My shoulders slump and I can't believe I feel the sting of tears behind my eyes. This isn't like me. I'm not usually this emotional and it strikes me that I'm not just playing it up to get Ronni's help- I really mean it.

  "I just want that in my life," I whisper the words because otherwise I'll start crying, "I know you think it's about some arbitrary date I circled on the calendar when I was a teenager planning out my life but..." I look down at my hands, at the bareness of my ring fingers, "I want to belong to someone."

  Dammit. My voice cracks and I grab my napkin to dab at the tears before they can start falling.

  "I want to be part of something bigger than myself," I insist on adding, "Please, Veronica? Be part of my team."

  Ronni's probably the closest thing I have to a bestie even though we really only hang out at work. Sometimes I go to one of her kids' dance recitals or softball games but our lives are very different.

  She got married out of high school to a man she's still in love with and she's spent her entire adulthood raising kids. This job isn't her career, it's just a job that helps pay to put a roof over her family's head and give her kids the opportunities they deserve. She'd quit in a heartbeat if her husband's job was enough that they could afford it.

  On the other hand, I worked hard to get to the place I am now. I have no intention of giving up my career, but I would like something to balance it with. Someone to listen to me talk about the projects I'm working on, someone to help me work out the kinks when I get stuck for an idea.

  I want kids, but I also want a father for my children that's involved with their lives.

  Inwardly I heave a heavy sigh. I'm asking for a lot.

  Ronnie looks at me hard for a minute and then I see her eyes glance down at the phone in my hand. The screen has timed out, but I know she's contemplating the website.

  Her hand reaches over and pats mine gently, "If you're gonna go through with that," she nods at the dark phone, "you better believe I'll do right by you."

  I'm so excited I start crying again.

  Ronnie gives me a warm smile and waits till I'm back to myself again before launching into 20 questions.

  "Whoa, whoa, whoa," I giggle, "I'll send you a link to the site and you can read all the fine print yourself." Then I blush and look down at the table shyly, "I kinda already filled out the application and put down the deposit," I admit, "but I need 3 people on my team to help with the final decision. I have Grams and Gramps but..." my voice trails off.

  Veronica nods in understanding, "but you don't have any friends," her tone is kind but the truth of her words stings a little.

  "You're my friend," I assure her.

  "Yeah, when you want something," she gets up and throws the tray from her lunch in the trash, "time's up, back to the salt mines."

  I replace the resealable lid on the plasticware container that my pasta was in and slip it into the little quilted case I made for my lunch kit and carry it back to my desk so I don't forget it at the office.

  "Not just when I want something," I'm only half feigning the hurt, "I consider you a friend."

  Ronni smiles and wraps her arm around my shoulder as we head back to our desks, "Then can I have a raise, friend?"

  Her voice is all warmth and laughter and I know she's joking. The mood lightens and I feel better about where we stand with each other.

  I also make a mental note to look over her performance review and see what we can do about that raise.

  My closest friend might not be that close of a friend, but she's a hell of an office manager.

  Chapter 5

  Joshua

  "What the fuck?" I stare at Maureen, utterly dumbfounded.

  I think she's serious. Motherfucking serious. In fact, I'm not sure I've ever seen Maureen look more dead set on anything in my life.

  "I got most of it filled out already but there's some stuff," I swear the woman blushes, "that I-- umm-- can't answer for you."

  She pushes the notebook computer across the bar at me and I catch a glimpse of the questions.

  Do you enjoy performing oral sex? Do you enjoy receiving oral sex? Are you disgusted by having sex with a woman during her period?

  The entire screen is filled with questions about sex. I scroll down. There's more damn sex questions. Shit, no wonder Maury fessed up on what she's been up to. Damn right she can't answer this shit for me.

  I keep scrolling, skimming through questions about everything from whether or not I like to take it up the ass to whether or not I've ever uploaded a sex video of myself. I swear now I'm blushing and it's not easy to make me blush but Maureen's watching me as I scroll through all the unanswered questions and I'm not sure if she expects me to answer them in front of her or not.

  "I'm not gonna fucking answer this shit, Mar," I throw in a few extra swear words just to cover up how much this stuff is making feel like a kid with a hard on in class. There are some crazy questions on this thing. A lot of it is over the top even for me, but a lot of it-- Would you risk getting caught having sex in a public place if your partner was into it? Would you consider attending a live sex show with your partner?-- ahem, a lot of it fills my head with some wicked images and I have to admit that finding a gal that's got all the same kinks as me without having to invest years discovering it by accident sure does sound good.

  But I ain't admitting this shit to Maureen. The woman knows a lot about me, but she's also in her 50's and is like a mom to me. She does not need to know everything.

  I push the computer back at her with a scowl.

  She pushes it right back at me, "You are going to answer all that shit, Mister," she tells me in no uncertain terms. She waves her hand at one of the booths at the far end of the room, "You take that thing over there and start typing, there are some essay type questions too. And when you're done," she raises her voice to keep me from butting in, "you hit 'submit' at the end of the form.

  "You're fuckin-A right I don't need to know all that shit about you!" She moves away from her side of the bar and gives me an exaggerated shudder of her shoulders to indicate that she thinks me having sex is just as gross as I think her knowing I have sex is. Which is a hoot really because God knows she's gotta know more about my sex life than I want her to admit to.

  I'm not saying she's ever walked in on me in the walk in fridge in the middle of summer-- but I am saying I'm damn grateful she's never mentioned it.

  Arranged marriage, eh?

  After an hour of working on the application and still no end in sight, I start to get curious about what Maureen's getting me into. I save my progress and start exploring the website.

  "Raven Swann." The woman's picture doesn't fit her name, I don't think. Maybe "Raven" is a more common name in Pacific Grove, California where it says her office is located. I dunno, never heard of the place so I can't say.

  The matchmaker's headshot shows a woman with long, straight hair that's kinda between honey blonde and red. She's got kinda of a bronze thing going on with her skin and I can't tell what her ethnicity is from the picture but she sure as hell doesn't look like what I picture when I think of a chick named "Raven."

  She looks like a real estate agent, or maybe a school teacher. Sure as hell doesn't look like a matchmaker.

  Not that I guess I'd know what a matchmaker looks like anyway. So I guess I should just shut up, my brain tells me as I skim through pages of testimonials of happy couples that she's fixed up. A lot of them have added pictures of their kids and little updates on themselves.

  Gotta admit, it tugs at the gut a little bit, seeing all those families that happened because of this Raven chick.

  I like that the couples aren't all out of some 1950s women's magazine too. I see all ages, all races, and even some same sex couples in the gallery pages. I see pictures of clean cut, all American types, and I see pictures of hard livin' biker types. Fat, thin, short, tall, cities, mountains, yachts, and every walk of life. This Raven chick is responsible for a lot of people finding each oth
er.

  Mostly I see happiness. For all the ways I can see that her clients run the gamut when it comes to lifestyle, every single damn one of the pictures shows me people who are looking at each other like they are looking at the best thing in the whole world.

  Shit. I might be a little choked up over it. Good thing I'm sprawled out back here in the corner booth where no one can see me.

  I've got a new appreciation for this application now, that's for sure. No wonder it's got so many damn questions. This ain't no dating app. This chick is serious. She deals in finding partners for people. Long term, happily ever after type shit.

  Then I see the pricing. Holy shit! I slam the notebook closed and find Maureen in her office.

  "Nuh uh!" I hold up the small computer and wave it in the air, "No way, Maury, you can't afford this. I can't let you spend this kind of money on me just because you're worried about me." I put her travel computer down on her desk and take a step back, crossing my arms over my shoulders.

  I know I'm in deep shit from the look on her face, "I can afford it and I already did so you get your ass back out there and finish the damn thing or I'm going to answer all those sex questions for you and find you a woman who's into pegging."

  I don't even want to know how Maureen knows what that is. "What do you mean you already 'afforded' it?"

  "Look, Sweetie, I let you come down here and work on the weekends because I like the company and it keeps you out of trouble most of the time," she gives me her mom look, "the extra help is handy but the reason I don't hire somebody for the weekends isn't because I can't afford to.

  "I like having you around, Josh, but I'd rather you had a reason to stick closer to home on the weekends. This place ain't doing you any favors and you're never gonna find the kind of woman that appreciates you if you keep fishing from the Boar's pond."

  "Mar," I soften my voice, trying to let her know how much I appreciate what she's saying without getting sappy and sounding like a damn pussy, "this deal is pricey, I can't let you buy me a wife just because you're worried I'll end up with another batshit crazy bitch like Nik."

  "I'm not buying you a wife, I'm paying that Swann chick to narrow down the options. Then I'm picking out a wife for you."

  She leans back in her chair and folds her arms over her head and I swear she's got the biggest shit eating grin on her face I've ever seen.

  I think Maury is enjoying this.

  I laugh, "God help me if the choice is up to you," I chuckle, but I take the notebook computer back from her and go back out to the bar to finish up the application.

  Crazy arranged marriage, I think as I give the questions a new respect, might just be the best plan for me.

  Chapter 6

  Caitlyn

  "Grams," I'm so nervous, "are you sure you won't go with me?"

  My grandmother chuckles, mostly to herself I think, and pats me on the shoulder as she pushes past me and checks the over timer, "Oh heavens, I should say not. You have Veronica to handle this, I've done my bit."

  "Besides," Grams gives me a grin, "I have cookies in the oven. So you'll have a good excuse to stop by on your way home-- if you go home alone."

  My grandmother winks at me. Oh my God! My grandmother just winked at me! I can feel my face burning bright red from her insinuation.

  "Honey," she bustles back to the rolling mat on the counter top that's covered in a fine layer of flour, "I'm old, I'm not dead!"

  This is not happening, I am not standing in my grandmother's kitchen while she bakes cookies and talks sex. It's all I can do not to stick my fingers in my ears and start humming.

  "I know everyone thinks that times were so different back in my day," oh no, she's still taking, "but you know, my day wasn't that long ago. I only missed being a baby boomer by a few years. I wasn't even 30 yet in the Summer of Love."

  I look at my phone nervously, suddenly extremely anxious for Ronnie to get here and take me away from my grandmother's trip down memory lane.

  "I was already married and I had your mama by then," I see a flash of pain across her eyes as she mentions my mom.

  I miss her too. And Dad. My parents were killed in a car accident when I was 13. It's been long enough for all of us to be able to find joy in life again, but it's still hard when you remember they aren't here anymore.

  "But don't you go thinking that your granddaddy was my first!"

  Oh shit. Part of me really wants to hear more of this. Part of me really wants to run right through the wall, leaving a perfect Caitlyn-shaped cut out behind me like in a cartoon.

  My grandmother pauses, her hand still in mid-press of the little heart-shaped cookie cutter in the rolled out sugar cookie dough. Her eyes have gone unfocused and she's got this silly little grin on her face and I don't know why it's never occurred to me that my grandmother was ever my age. A woman like myself, albeit with a husband and a daughter by this age.

  I think of all the filth I read before bed time and all the dirty things I think of while I get myself off with my vibrator.

  Did Grams have a nasty fantasy life too? Did my grandmother ever.... I can't go through with that thought.

  That's OK, I don't have to, Grams is busy reminiscing and I now know that my grandmother considered herself to be quite the harlot in her day, having sampled the wares of no less than 4 young men before settling on my grandfather. Because he had the biggest--

  "Oh! Ronnie's here, Grams, love you! Gotta go!"

  It's one thing to get a little insight into who your grandmother is as a woman but I draw the line at hearing about Grampa's junk.

  Grams is laughing as she starts pushing the cutter into the cookie dough again. She holds her flour-coated hands away from me, trying not to cover me in the white powder as I lean in to kiss her cheek.

  "You go have fun, sweetie," she turns that twinkle in her eyes on me, "I picked you a good one."

  15 minutes ago I would have taken that to mean something completely different, now I'm a little concerned.

  "I don't know Grams," I text Ronnie back to let her know I'm on my way out to meet her and I dampen a dish cloth in the sink and clean the dusty white fingerprint off my dress, "what if I don't like him? What if we don't have any chemistry? What if he doesn't want the same things I do?"

  "What if you get out of my kitchen and go find out?" Grams gives me a dry peck on my cheek and shoos me toward the door, threatening to touch me with her flour-y hands.

  "Caitlyn," she gets serious for a second as I hover at the door, "Your grandfather and I both spoke to every one of the men that Mrs. Swann narrowed your matches to. They were all lovely gentlemen and I'm sure that any one of them would have made you a fine husband, but Grampa and I both agreed that this is the right one for you.

  "Joshua is a nice boy and he's exactly what you need if you're serious about finding someone who's going to love you for everything you are and everything you're going to become. Now go meet your fiancé and don't forget to come by for milk and cookies later. You can even bring Josh with you if you decide to take him home for a trial run."

  With that I am practically running out the door and down the driveway toward Ronnie waiting in the car.

  Chapter 7

  Joshua

  I pull into a parking space and check the address Veronica gave me against the one on the building.

  ClayDate Cafe.

  I have no fucking clue what that means. The place doesn't have a website and I don't do any of that social media shit so I never figured out what we're doing.

  All I know is that this is supposed to just be an ice breaker. No alcohol, and not alone. Technically, both Caitlyn and I are supposed to have at least one member of our "team" here for our first meeting but Veronica agreed to bend the rules a little for me since Maureen couldn't get away.

  Honestly I have no idea who Maury got to fill the other two seats on my team. There's supposed to be 3 people working together to choose my match. If I know Maury, she recruited a couple of regulars from the ba
r that know me OK and then didn't let them have a say.

  That's OK. If there's any one I trust to find a woman for me, it's Mar.

  I step out of the car and lean against the hood while I wait. Veronica agreed that we'd meet out here in the parking lot so we could intros out of the way before we go inside, try to avoid some awkwardness.

  A wagon pulls into a spot a few spaces away from me and I recognize Veronica from our interviews as she gets out and waves at me.

  I'm just about to push my weight off of the Mustang and head over to them when I see her.

  On second thought, maybe I'll just stay here a little bit longer. I hope I look a lot cooler than I feel right now because my mouth has gone dry and my palms are sweating as I watch the delicate brunette gather her purse and get out of the passenger seat.

  She's...perfect. Like, gorgeous. I can't believe this chick is actually willing to marry me.

  She's kinda petite, like short but with rockin' curves, and she's got a ton of thick dark hair that's made of soft curls. I bet she fucking hates them too but I want to twist those ringlets around my fingers and wrap them around my fist while I-- gulp-- about 12 different images flash through my head all at once and they all involve yanking her head back by her hair while I slam my cock into her.

  No bueno, man. I talk my dick down, which is fucking hard to do while I'm eye-fucking my fiancé.

  I like the way that sounds and instantly I know this thing is on. This woman is mine.

  She's got these bright blue eyes that I can see from across the parking lot and I like the way they're fixed on me as she's walking toward me. When she gets closer, I can make out a soft spray of freckles that just dot the tops of her round cheeks that gives her an innocent look that stops at those fucking thick-ass lips.

  If I ever saw a woman who had a mouth made for sin, holy hell this is her. I want to wipe that goddamn cherry red lipstick off her mouth so I won't be distracted all day thinking about what those lips could be doing to my cock but what she could be doing to my cock is one of the ways I can think to get the lipstick off.