Chapter Four - Fletcher

I tapped my fingertip against the table in front of me; my cell phone screen brightened and reminded me of the time. She was late. As if I wasn’t already on edge about the date in general. Now I was staring at the empty seat across from me like someone who had been stood up. Our server, Stephanie, walked over and topped off my tea. “Sir, would you like an appetizer while you wait?” My gaze shifted toward hers coolly and she politely took my heated look and left the table. Where was she? Had she changed her mind? No, she wouldn’t have spent ten thousand dollars on this date to decide against it. Several minutes went by when I noticed her walking up the sidewalk. She was in a dress that she didn’t seem comfortable in, but she looked good enough to eat. Her blonde hair was braided again down her back. She was saying something to herself when she opened the door and stepped into the restaurant. The host spoke to her while she nervously slipped her cell phone into her clutch and scanned the room. When her eyes landed on mine, a pink blush brushed against her skin, and she politely pointed my way. The host led her over, and I reluctantly stood to greet her, even though I was pissed at her lack of timeliness. “Mr. Hines. Mrs. Terry is here,” our host said, leaving us alone. The purple tint to her dress brightened the green in her eyes. She cleared her throat at my staring and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. “I’m sorry I’m late. I got lost.” Lost? Did she not have a GPS on her phone? “It’s fine. A text would have been nice,” I said, gesturing for her to sit down. She sat, but her eyes narrowed a bit from across the table. Stephanie walked over and handed her a menu. “What can I get you to drink, ma'am?” “Just a tea, please.” She hadn’t let go of her clutch. Her shoulders were tense, and she looked oddly uncomfortable. “How about you, Mr. Hines?” “My usual,” I said. Charlotte looked up at me when Stephanie left but didn’t offer a smile. In fact, she looked about two seconds away from throwing up. “I’ve never been to this restaurant before.” I leaned back in my chair. “I own it.” Those green eyes searched mine. The shape of her face was utterly feminine. A soft heart shape with lips that looked kissable. Her body was small but she looked healthy enough to bear children. I inwardly groaned at myself. Looking at her like livestock was not what I had in mind while picking out a bride. This was wrong, but I knew what I had to do. “Oh,” she said. “That’s interesting.” “What do you do, Charlotte?” Stephanie brought over our drinks and she nervously took a sip. “I sell real estate.” “Are you two ready to order?” she asked. She looked at the menu and hurriedly scanned over the items. “I’m not sure—“ I plucked the menu from her and handed it to Stephanie. “We’ll both have the Calamari Fritti.” “Sure thing, Mr. Hines. We’ll have it right out.” Charlotte watched our server leave and then she glanced back at me. “What if I don’t like that?” she boldly asked. My fingers twitched against my thigh. “If you don’t like it, I’ll get you something else.” She slid her tongue across her pearly whites and folded her arms across her stomach. This was not going how I imagined it would go. She wanted this date, why wasn’t she interested in me? “So, what do you do?” she asked. I lifted a brow at her curious face. “I own this restaurant for starters.” She blinked at me, and suddenly her shoulders slumped and she sat back against the chair. “I’m sorry, I can’t do this.” “Do what?” I asked, leaning forward. “I’m not Charlotte Terry.” I blinked at her, searching her face that I’d seen all over Google when I looked her up. “You look like Charlotte Terry to me,” I said. She put her clutch on the table, pulled out her cell phone, and showed me the screen. On her display was a picture of two of them. Twins. The corner of my mouth lifted and I almost laughed but I didn’t. “She’s sick. She begged me to bid on you and take this date. But there is no way I can woo you like she wants me to. She said you were going out of town soon and didn’t want you to wait on her. Can you please just give her a second date when you get back? Then she can woo you herself? This is stressful. This dress is riding up, and it’s too tight around my waist. I have blisters from these heels, and frankly, I’m tired. I worked this morning.” This made much more sense. It explained her lack of etiquette and her uninterested nature. “What’s your name?” I asked. She looked over and gave me her first authentic smile. “Ava.” Even the name fit her better. “Well, Ava, there is no reason to waste the night or the food. Tell me about you?” “There isn’t much to know, Fletcher. I’m an inspiring artist, and wait tables to make ends meet. I don’t have the money or the class that my sister has, but I love her nonetheless. I’m … basic if you will.” Ava pulled a few bobby pins from the back of her hair and roughly shoved them into her clutch. Stephanie brought over our food and slipped it in front of Ava. She thanked her, and immediately tossed a piece in her mouth. I watched those luscious lips open and then close. There was an ease about her that I liked. She wasn’t what I needed, but there was something about her that I wanted. Maybe a blank canvas would suit me well. Someone I could mold into the wife I needed. Not someone with tons of money. Someone who wasn’t used to money. Someone that would care for it, admire it more, or that needed it so desperately at one time that she would handle it better. Someone who would sign this contract without taking it to a lawyer. Someone who would sign it because she was desperate. Someone who would sign it before tomorrow morning. “Please, don’t tell Charlotte when you go out with her,” she said after her bite. “She paid me to do this, which is embarrassing, but I needed the money. She has the flu and should be better within a week. If it’s okay with you, I’ll just tell her everything went well—“ “Ava,” I said, snagging a piece of food. “Do you know why I agreed to the auction?” She watched my face closely. “For charity?” “No,” I said simply, pulling a contract from the pocket of my shirt. “I did it because I’m looking for a wife.” Ava’s brows shot up. “Oh, Charlotte is going to be excited to hear that.” Shaking my head, I unfolded the contract and slowly slid it across the table. “I’m not offering Charlotte the contract. I’m offering it to you.” Ava choked on her food and roughly hit her chest with her fist. She began to shake her head. “I can’t marry you, Fletcher. What is this?” she asked, looking around the restaurant. “Some kind of prank show? Is Char not sick? Did you both set me up?” She laughed humorlessly. “Well, this is not funny.” Frankly, I didn’t expect her to understand this sort of contract. Arranged marriages weren’t a common thing in American society any longer. But it was for us. The kitchen door opened, and my father stopped in the door frame. He eyed Ava with a curious look but pointed toward his phone. I looked down at my phone, seeing his text asking how it was going. It was going, but I wasn't sure where we were going with this. I had one day for her to agree. “Listen, Ava,” I said, reaching across the table to grab her hand. She looked as if I might bite it and slipped it from my grasp. “No, you listen. I’m here for my sister who has this big crush on you. She would want to look at this, not me.” Frustration began to boil in my blood. “You don’t think I’m attractive?’ I asked. “That has nothing to do with this … this marriage contract, Fletcher. I’m not the person you’re looking for. I don’t know why you need to suddenly get married but I’m not interested in being some contract bride, okay?” She went to stand up, but I grabbed her hand and guided her back down to her seat. “Just hear me out,” I said softly, uncharacteristically. “Read the contract, Ava. Don’t tell your sister. You read it, and if you’re interested, call me tomorrow morning at the latest.” She eyed the contract and slipped it into her clutch. “The answer is no, but out of respect for you, I’ll look it over.” She eyed the plate. “Can I take this to-go?” “Why don’t you stay and enjoy the rest of the meal? I won’t hold you down and force you to marry me unless you’re into that kind of thing?” Ava’s cheeks turned red, and she took a slow bite of her food. “I’m not.” Father wasn’t standing in the doorway when I looked back. Ava’s vibrant green eyes were intently staring at me when I looked back. “No offense, but why do you need a bride so badly? I’m sure you have plenty of suitors.” “I need to be off the market quickly, and the auction was a good way to find a suitable woman.” “A woman with money?” Ava asked. “With class.” “I don’t have either,” she said with a shrug. “You need my sister.” Something twisted in my stomach. I didn’t want her sister. I suddenly felt the need to have Ava. Even if she did get her sister to agree to look at the contract, I didn't have the time to wait for her to heal. “I don’t want your sister, Ava.” Ava continued to eat until her plate was empty. When she finished, I stood and offered her my hand. Reluctantly, she took it and let me guide her out of the restaurant. The streetlamps brightened her pretty features as she nervously stood there. “I’m not going to marry you,” she said bluntly. “Read the contract. I’ll speak with you in the morning.” She went to leave. I reached for her shoulder, turning her back to face me, and I kissed her cheek softly. Ava couldn’t get out of there fast enough. Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe Charlotte Terry was the right person for the job. Though as Ava stole a glance at me over her shoulder, I’d never seen something so tempting in my life. I wanted Ava to sign the contract. I just needed to make it worth her while.