Page 2 of Merry Fake Bride

The oval shape of her face melts into a heart when she smiles nervously and the apples of her cheeks swell under her eyes.

Each breath causes her ample chest to rise and the sparkles on her top to move like rippling waves.

“You don’t have to do that,” she says, her voice soft, and yet it might as well have been right next to my ear given how in tune to her I am.

“It’s my pleasure. As a thank you.”

“For the seat?” Her dark brows briefly knit together, then a soft laugh rushes past her lips. “Damn.”

“No. Not the seat.”

“Then what?”

“You made my day brighter.”

“I don’t even know you.”

There’s a laziness to her words born from the alcohol humming in her veins and the warm, alluring vibe of this entire place.

The music changes, and the lights turn to a red that deepens all the shadows around her body.

My tongue curls in on itself as I admire her, then I nod as both our fresh drinks are placed in front of us.

She immediately draws her glass into herself and places her fingertips on the rim to cover it.

Despite her drunken state, she’s still aware of her surroundings.

“No, you don’t know me.” My agreement comes with a smile. “But I was having a kind of shitty day and then I saw you across the bar, and it reminded me that even when I’m feeling at my lowest, there’s beauty to be found if I look in the right places.”

Her eyes widen and even with the darker lights, I can tell she’s blushing furiously.

Her hand tightens around her glass, then she quickly buries her smile in her drink.

I follow suit and sip my own drink.

The bourbon slides down a lot smoother after four drinks, and the stress of my day finally starts to melt away.

Until my phone buzzes against my thigh.

“Are you trying to flirt with me?” she asks while I pull out my phone and glance at it.

Thirteen missed calls.

I’m in the process of locking the screen when yet another call comes through, so I silence it and place it face down on the bar.

“If you have to ask, then I think I need to do a better job.”

Our eyes meet and my heart skips a beat once again.

“Oh, it’s not that.”

She laughs, and it’s a light, warm sound that resonates through me.

“I’m not typically flirted with until people’s drinks are in the double digits.”

“I doubt that.” There’s no way a woman as beautiful as this isn’t fawned over twenty-four, seven.

“So, what’s so terrible about your day that a glimpse at me is what makes you feel better?”