How to Ruin a Wedding(24)
I place my hands on my lap and let out a sigh. “I know all too well about the mistake of marriage at a young age.” I close my eyes, trying to smother the emotion clogging my throat. I was younger than his sister, but being young hadn’t made it easier to jump back into dating. If anything, it felt even harder to get back out there.
“So you accept?”
I chew on my bottom lip. Of course, I have to accept. I have nothing lined up, Save a Paw is at risk, Mathew is threatening to divorce my sister, and I have no place to live. I should say yes and move on, but something within me tugs to gamble for more. (This kind of behavior is precisely why I can’t go within a hundred feet of a casino.)
“I’m going to take advantage of you by asking this, but how much more can you spend?”
He cocks his head to the side and a single wave of hair lands on his brow as he smirks. “Why? You want to empty out my bank account?”
“What you’re offering will help me with the shelter, but if I got more, I could hurry and get my own place again.”
His smirk slowly turns over. “That’s right, you got evicted, didn’t you?”
Some of the pity-party kinship from our first meeting spreads through my chest, and I’m surprised to realize him knowing this about me isn’t as embarrassing as it should be.
When I nod, he crosses his arms against his chest. “You’ve had it rough.”
I purse my lips. “Yes, which is why you should upgrade the flight to a full-blown bottle of wine for me.”
Just in time, the waitress comes over to check on us. Anders cancels my second flight and orders a bottle, and I help myself to a handful of fries. Anders lets me get in a few bites of my burger—as good as promised—before speaking again.
“You tell me how much you need, and I’ll give it to you.”
His voice is so confident and final and warm, and I have to swallow the sudden moisture in my throat. “Then I’ll accept. I’ll do it. I’ll need a lot more information and a cover. We’ll talk more details as it gets closer. Do you think anyone will recognize me from the wedding?”
He shakes his head. “The only thing anyone remembers is the pastor falling over and the almost fire.”
With perfect timing, the waitress drops off the bottle of wine and fills my glass. “You recognized me,” I point out, something I meant to do earlier.
“I did,” he answers, “and as for cover, be my girlfriend. You can stay at my place—I have an extra room—so it’ll be easier to bring you around, and you can be my plus-one for any events.” He lets out a long breath. “And my aunt will stop worrying I’m spiraling after the wedding.”
It’s an easy cover and will give me plenty of access to insider information. But my focus catches on the tail end of his words. I would think worrying about a grown man being lonely would be the mother’s responsibility.
I bring the wineglass to my lips. “Have you been having it rough since I last saw you?”
“Not anymore,” he says, his hot gaze pinning me in place.
Not frozen, as I am, the wine slides down the glass to my mouth. I nearly spill it over myself as I drop the glass back on the table and lick the remnants from my lips.
Anders, no napkin in hand, reaches over the table and swipes his thumb beneath my bottom lip, catching stray beads of wine I missed. My stomach fizzes, like a bottle of champagne popped open within it.
“Some ground rules.” I jerk back, forcing my hands flat on the table as my cheeks burn. “You can’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Anything remotely kind: holding the door open for me, a hand on my back leading me somewhere, looking at me for more than five seconds at a time, pulling my hair behind my ears, wiping crumbs from my mouth, physical touch.” It’s a warning I’ve never had to give a client before, but sirens go off in my head now, telling me lines have to be drawn. Anders feels dangerously charming.
He leans over the table, breaching the little space I gave myself, as if he is showing metaphorically and physically that the sloppy lines I’ve drawn don’t matter too much to him. “Why not?”
“I’ll fall in love with you,” I say, surprised when humor, not horror, fills Anders’s eyes. “I’m in a delicate phase in my life where the smallest acts of kindness feel like declarations of love. And my bar is so low you’d have to scrape it off the floor. I’m pretty sure I’m already halfway in love with you, and I barely know you.”
It’s better to lay it all out like this, be honest, to avoid any mishaps and broken hearts—mine, of course. With all that’s happening in my life, I’m not sure I can trust that my emotions are sane and not overreactions as I deal with turmoil.
“I’ll keep that in mind.” He smiles, and the shadows of his dimples, combined with the heat and sparkle of humor in his gaze, make my heart stutter.
Uh-oh. I press my hand against my chest. Might be too late.
7.
Taina frowns at me from the edge of the mattress as I hold up a yellow sundress that I’m not sure will fit after the ten pounds I unintentionally lost courtesy of all my stress. It’s only been a day since I met with Anders, and I’m not leaving for his hometown until the end of the week, but I couldn’t wait to pack. And I wanted Mathew to see my suitcases and ease up on the stick he willingly has perpetually shoved up his ass.