Page 41 of The Fake Date (Brides of Beaufort 4)

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BEAU

“Hey, Pops,” I said into the phone, rubbing my temple. “How are you?”

“I’m hangin’ in there. How are you?”

I looked around the crowded coffee shop, nerves swirling in my gut. “I’m good. And I’m actually glad you called.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah. I wanted to let you know I’m seeing someone.” It wasn’t exactly a lie. I’d be seeing Lyndi in about five minutes, when she showed up to go over this ridiculous contract with me.

Pops coughed into the phone, then a scratching sound shot into my ear before the cough became muffled, like he’d put his hand over the phone. “You’re kiddin’ me, right?”

“Nope.”

“Well, I have to say, I didn’t see you following through on this one, son. Not that you’re not a man of your word or anythin’. It’s just… well, never mind. Tell me about her. What’s her name?”

“Lyndi. She’s a photographer.”

“Huh. So, she’s an artsy type?”

I wrinkled my nose, then shook my head. “Eh, I don’t know about that. She’s not like a free-spirited hippie artist or anything.”

“Well, what’s she like, then?”

Words to describe Lyndi flashed through my mind, one after the other. She’s beautiful. Kind. Complex. She’s shy but still manages to be friendly and warm. She’s oddly into karaoke night even though she needs to sneak away from the chaos halfway through. And she has this weird habit of sneaking into my mind when I least expect her to.

But of course, I didn’t need to go into all that with him.

Finally, I shrugged and adjusted my grip on the phone. “She’s great. She photographs people, not landscapes. Mostly weddings, actually. That’s how we met.”

Again, all true. As long as I stuck to the facts, maybe this wouldn’t be so hard after all.

“Well,” he started, pausing to cough again. “That means she isn’t a client of yours, then?”

Another easy one. Perfect. “No. She’s not a client. We have friends in common, and I’ve known her for about a year now.”

“And she makes you happy?”

“Yes,” I answered without even having to think about it. Then I pushed down this nagging thought at the back of my mind that it shouldn’t have been quite that natural of a thought.

“Good. That’s all I care about.”

Satisfied that I’d done enough to make good on the old man’s promise, I made an attempt at chitchat for a minute now that the hard part was over. But it was short-lived. My dad had never been much of a phone guy, even before he was so low on energy. So, we wrapped it up, said our goodbyes, and I promised to call him soon.

As I slipped my phone back into my pocket, I looked up to find Ms. Hattie walking toward me like she’d won a prize. “Hello, Beau.”

I nodded, bracing myself for whatever shenanigans she had in mind today. “Ma’am.”

“Coffee for one today?”

“No, Lyndi’s on her way.”

She beamed. “Ah, wonderful. I have to admit, when you told me about the two of you at the wedding last night, I was quite pleased.”

“You were?” I blinked at her, trying to figure out if the wide smile on her face was actually sarcastic rather than genuine.