Page 3 of Claiming the Fake Boyfriend (Curvy Girls of Whitetail Falls #3)

I've survived twelve wedding-morning emergencies before noon, including a broken zipper, a missing groomsman, and our great-aunt Gertrude insisting we're all going to hell for serving champagne before sundown.

You'd think I'd be too busy for an existential crisis about my fake relationship with Whitetail Falls' most eligible bachelor.

You'd be wrong.

"Amber? Did you hear me? I need the other bobby pin."

I snap back to reality, surrounded by clouds of hairspray and nervous laughter. Mia sits before me, radiant in her half-finished updo, while I clutch a handful of pins like lifelines.

"Sorry!" I hand her stylist another pin and try to focus. The room buzzes with bridesmaids in varying states of readiness, their jewel-toned dresses hanging like autumn leaves against the ivory walls.

"Daydreaming about that brewery hunk?" Lisa, Mia's college roommate, nudges me with a knowing smirk. "God, I almost died when you walked in with him last night. When did that happen?"

"It's... recent," I hedge, fussing with the emerald sash on my maid-of-honor dress. The rich color complements my curves, a fact I appreciate now that I have someone to look nice for… even if it's just pretend.

"Well, it's about time," pipes up Valerie, Bradley's sister. "We were all starting to think you'd never get over Cameron."

The room stills. I feel heat rush to my cheeks.

"Val," Mia warns, but Valerie just shrugs.

"What? I'm happy for her. After what Cameron did—running off with that yoga instructor right before the wedding—"

"It was a Pilates instructor," I correct automatically, then immediately regret it. "And it wasn't right before the wedding. We had six weeks to cancel everything." As if that makes it better.

Valerie gives me a look that's one part pity, two parts schadenfreude. "Anyway, it's good you've found someone. Even if it is Tucker Hughes. Don't expect him to settle down, though. That man has sampled more local flavors than his own brewery."

I open my mouth to say—what, exactly? Defend my fake boyfriend's honor? Admit this is all an elaborate charade? Thankfully, the door swings open before I can decide.

"Ladies," a deep voice drawls, "I come bearing liquid courage and caffeine."

Tucker stands in the doorway, a cardboard tray of coffee cups in hand and a garment bag slung over his shoulder. He's devastating in a charcoal suit that fits him like it was poured on, a deep green tie that matches my dress perfectly, and that infuriating half-smile that makes my stomach flip.

"Tucker!" Mia's face lights up. "You're a lifesaver."

"I aim to please." His eyes find mine across the room, warm and amused. "Especially when it means seeing my girl all dressed up."

My girl. The possessive pronoun sends a ridiculous thrill through me.

Tucker distributes coffees with the easy charm of a man comfortable in any setting. When he finally reaches me, he hands over a cup marked "PSL with an extra shot for the most beautiful woman in the room."

"You didn't have to do this," I murmur, secretly delighted.

"Told you I would." He drops his voice, leaning close enough that I can smell his woody cologne. "Besides, I'm a man who keeps his promises."

Before I can respond, he slides an arm around my waist and drops a kiss on my temple, so naturally it takes my breath away. "Missed you this morning."

I feel Valerie's eyes burning into us and decide two can play this game. I rise on tiptoes and straighten his tie, letting my fingers linger. "You clean up nice, Hughes."

"Wait till you see what's under the suit."

I nearly choke on my coffee. "Tucker!"

He laughs, the sound rich and infectious. "I meant I brought my dancing shoes. Get your mind out of the gutter, Ms. Hill."

Heat floods my cheeks, but before I can retort, Mia's wedding planner, Abigail Robinson, sweeps in with her trademark clipboard and military precision.

"Ladies and gentleman, car service arrives in twenty minutes. Amber, I need you to wrangle the flower girl. Tucker, if you're staying, make yourself useful and help carry these bags to the car."

"Yes, ma'am," Tucker says with a mock salute that actually makes the normally unflappable Abigail crack a smile.

As he hefts several tote bags, I catch Valerie staring.

"What?" I ask, unable to help myself.

She shakes her head slowly. "Nothing. Just... he really looks at you. Like, actually sees you."

I don't know what to say to that, so I busy myself with last-minute preparations, trying to ignore the warmth blooming in my chest.

A Few Hours Later

The Whitetail River sparkles in the afternoon sun, its surface dappled with fallen maple leaves in brilliant reds and golds.

Abigail has transformed the riverbank into something from a fairy tale—rows of white chairs face an arbor entwined with autumn foliage and soft cream roses.

Lanterns hang from nearby trees, waiting to be lit as evening falls.

Guests mill about, a sea of fall colors against the backdrop of Whitetail Falls' famous covered bridge.

I stand slightly apart, clipboard in hand, checking off final details. My duties as maid of honor are nearly complete, which means I'll soon have nothing to distract me from the fact that—

"There you are."

Tucker appears beside me, two flutes of champagne in hand. He offers one to me with a smile that crinkles the corners of his eyes. "Thought you might need this. You've been running around like a madwoman."

"Is that your subtle way of saying I look frazzled?" I accept the glass, surprised by how relieved I am to see him.

"On the contrary." His gaze travels from my carefully styled hair down to the emerald silk hugging my curves. "You look breathtaking."

The simple sincerity in his voice catches me off guard.

"Thank you," I manage. "For the compliment and for..." I gesture vaguely. "Playing along."

"My pleasure. Though I'll admit, I'm enjoying this charade more than expected."

Before I can dig into what that means, Abigail signals frantically. "Seating is starting! Amber, I need you."

The next half hour passes in a blur of organization…

Lining up the wedding party, adjusting Mia's train, and finally taking my place at the front as the string quartet begins playing.

I scan the crowd during my walk down the aisle, momentarily freezing when I spot Cameron four rows back, his perfectly styled hair and designer suit making him look like he stepped out of a catalog. He gives me a small, awkward nod.

I focus straight ahead, refusing to let him rattle me. But as I take my place, my eyes find Tucker in the third row. He winks, and just like that, my nerves settle.

Mia is radiant as she glides down the aisle on her father's arm. The ceremony is intimate, heartfelt, with just enough personal touches to make it uniquely theirs.

As the couple exchanges vows, promising forever with voices full of certainty, I feel a familiar ache beneath my ribs.

Then, somehow, Tucker is beside me. The ceremony has ended, guests are mingling, and he's materialized at my side as if sensing my momentary melancholy.

"You okay?" he asks quietly, his hand finding the small of my back.

"Just wedding emotions," I dismiss with a smile that doesn't quite reach my eyes.

He studies me for a moment, then takes my hand, his fingers lacing through mine with unexpected gentleness. "Come on. Let's get you a real drink before you have to pose for eight hundred photos."

The cocktail hour unfolds on the riverbank, where market lights now glow against the deepening blue sky.

A jazz quartet plays softly while servers circulate with trays of autumn-inspired hors d'oeuvres.

Tucker stays close, his hand rarely leaving mine or my waist, creating a bubble of warmth I'm reluctant to step out of.

"Amber." A familiar voice breaks through our conversation with Tucker's brewery manager. I turn to find Cameron standing there, looking uncomfortable but determined. "You look lovely."

"Cameron," I manage a polite smile. "Thank you. You remember Tucker Hughes?"

"Of course." Cameron extends his hand, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. "Your beer is excellent."

"Appreciate that." Tucker shakes his hand, then smoothly slides his arm around my waist, pulling me closer to his side. The move is subtle but unmistakably possessive.

"I didn't realize you two were..." Cameron trails off, looking between us.

"Dating? Yeah." Tucker's voice is casual but firm. "Lucky me."

An awkward silence falls. I clear my throat. "How's Sasha?"

Cameron shifts his weight. "She's good. Couldn't make it today, teaching a workshop in Asheville."

"Send her my best," I say, surprising myself with how little I feel. Six months ago, the mention of the woman he left me for would have shattered me. Now, with Tucker's solid presence beside me, it barely registers.

After Cameron excuses himself, Tucker leans down to murmur in my ear. "You okay?"

"Surprisingly, yes." I look up at him, suddenly aware of how close we're standing. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"Being here. Making this easier."

His expression softens. "Anytime."

Before I can respond, the wedding photographer corrals the bridal party for photos, and I'm swept away into bridesmaid duties again. For the next hour, I pose and smile and adjust Mia's train, all while acutely aware of Tucker's eyes following me around the reception area.

When I finally get a moment to breathe, I find myself by the river's edge, watching the last light of day shimmer on the water. The temperature has dropped with the sun, and I rub my bare arms, wishing I'd thought to bring a wrap.

"Cold?"

I turn to find Tucker approaching, two glasses of amber liquid in hand.

"A little," I admit. "But it's beautiful out here."

Without hesitation, he sets down the drinks and shrugs out of his suit jacket, draping it around my shoulders. The fabric is warm from his body, enveloping me in his scent.

"Better?" he asks, retrieving our drinks.

"Much." I pull the jacket closer, fighting the urge to bury my nose in the collar. "What is this?" I ask, accepting the glass he offers.

"My newest seasonal brew. Thought you might want to be the first to try it outside the brewery."

I take a sip, pleasantly surprised by the complex flavor with hints of caramel, apple, and something warming I can't quite place. "This is delicious."

"Glad you think so." His smile is pleased, almost shy. "I was hoping you'd like it."

"Does it have a name yet?"

"Working on it. I was thinking 'Autumn's Embrace', like your shop."

Something warm unfurls in my chest that has nothing to do with the beer. "I'm honored."

"You should be. I don't name beers after just anyone." His tone is teasing, but there's something in his eyes that makes me wonder again where the act ends and reality begins.

A burst of laughter from nearby draws our attention. A group of wedding guests has gathered around one of Tucker's friends who appears to be telling a story that has everyone in stitches. Among them is a stunning brunette whose eyes keep drifting in our direction.

"Is that...?" I begin.

"Callie. Yeah." Tucker's jaw tightens almost imperceptibly.

I study the woman more carefully. She's beautiful in a polished, intimidating way. All sleek lines and perfect posture, her maroon dress both elegant and strategically revealing.

"She keeps looking over here," I observe.

"Let her look." Tucker's voice is casual, but I feel the tension in him. "I'm exactly where I want to be."

As if on cue, Callie detaches from the group and begins making her way toward us. Tucker shifts closer to me, his hand finding my waist again.

"Mind if I join you two?" Callie's voice is honey-smooth, her smile practiced. "Tucker, aren't you going to introduce me to your... friend?"

"Girlfriend," Tucker corrects firmly. "Callie Morgan, this is Amber Hill. Amber owns Autumn's Embrace in the Heartwood District."

"How quaint," Callie says with a smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes. "I've always thought small boutiques were so... charming. Though I don't remember seeing you around when I lived here."

"My shop's been open three years," I reply pleasantly, refusing to be intimidated. "Right across from the brewery, actually."

"Oh, so you’re neighbors. How convenient." Her gaze flicks between us, calculating. "And now you're...more. How long has this been going on?"

Before I can fumble through our poorly planned backstory, Tucker speaks. "Some connections are just waiting for the right moment." He looks down at me, something soft and genuine in his expression. "Sometimes what you're looking for is right in front of you."

Callie's smile tightens. "How... sweet. Tucker never struck me as the settling-down type, but people change, I suppose."

"Some do," Tucker agrees, his eyes never leaving mine. "When they have a good reason."

My heart is pounding so loudly I'm sure they both can hear it. The lines between pretend and reality have never felt blurrier.

"Amber!" Mia's voice breaks the moment. "We need you for the bouquet toss!"

"Duty calls," I say, grateful for the interruption. "It was nice meeting you, Callie."

As I turn to leave, Tucker catches my hand, pulls me back, and before I can process what's happening, he's kissing me.

Not a quick peck, but a proper kiss, his lips warm and insistent against mine. I respond instinctively, my free hand finding his shoulder for balance as the world seems to tilt around us.

He pulls back just enough to whisper against my lips, "For authenticity."

But the heat in his eyes, the slight roughness in his voice, suggests this has nothing to do with our charade and everything to do with the electricity that's been building between us since that first collision on Foxglove Lane.

As I walk away on unsteady legs, I glance back to see Callie saying something to Tucker, her expression intense.

His eyes, however, remain fixed on me, dark and wanting in a way that sends shivers down my spine.