Page 41 of The Wedding Fake

Hudson: Wasnt sure what word you could possibly mean

I paired the message with a winking emoji and stood from my spot by the window.

Claire: I like good grammar. Informal contractions are important.

Hudson: Yes to cruising with you. You can teach me about informal contractions.

I was still smiling as I pushed through the door and back onto the street, heading toward the bridal shop.

Claire: Imma blow your mind when I teach you it’s actually I’ma.

I laughed, an unfamiliar warmth spreading through me as Claire stepped out of the shop and her eyes fell on me. She pulled off her mask, tucking it away in her pocket and smiling in return.

If I’d bothered to think, I might not have closed the distance between us, but I wasn’t thinking. I was staring at a woman who absolutely enchanted me, and as I drew closer, I cupped her chin in my hands and touched my lips to hers.

She didn’t pull away. On the contrary, she leaned into me, her hands burying in my hair and pulling me tighter to her as she deepened the kiss. It was what I’d been fantasizing about for days, and I groaned into her mouth. “Claire, Jesus,” I murmured, leaning in to steal another kiss as soon as her lips left mine. I didn’t care if we were in the middle of the sidewalk. I didn’t care about anything except Claire.

Her fingers loosened, but even when her lips left mine, her face remained close, breathing hard as she looked up into my eyes.

“Get a room, you two,” one of her sisters groused. I didn’t care enough to look up and confirm which sister.

Claire spoke, but still her eyes remained on mine. “I have a room, Nora, and it shares a wall with yours, so be careful what you wish for.”

“Eew, Claire.” This voice was different from the first, and I was pretty sure it was Tessa, although, again, I wasn’t bothering to check.

“Claire,” Juliet snapped, and her mother’s voice drew Claire’s attention fully. She turned toward the older woman, but I kept my arm around her waist, not willing to break whatever magic was happening in this moment. “We should go,” Juliet said.

“You go ahead. Hudson and I are going to take a walk.”

“We’re supposed to be at the Duprees’ for dinner,” Juliet protested.

“I know. We’ll be there,” Claire assured her mother.

Juliet frowned. “Okay. Don’t be late.”

“Got it, Mom,” she replied, keeping her voice light and airy. Claire turned, walking away from the bevy of Davis women.

“You sure it’s okay for us to wander off like this?” I asked. Juliet Davis already didn’t like me. I wasn’t looking to piss her off any more than I already had.

“Were you hoping to spend some extra time with my mother?” Claire asked wryly.

I grinned, not bothering to answer the question, letting my hand slip off her waist to intertwine our fingers. “Where we headed to?”

“Nowhere in particular,” she said cheerily.

“How’d the fitting go?” I asked, just to have something to talk about.

Claire looked around her, and in a quiet voice said, “Fitting was fine. Dress is awful.”

I cocked my head. “Awful?”

“Did you see it last time?”

I remembered Claire standing on the pedestal, the long stretch of her neck visible. She was holding her arm to her chest to keep the dress up, a move that was sexy without meaning to be, and Grant Dupree had been ogling her. The dress, though, I had no recollection of. I shot her a smile. “Is it cheesy to say I remember how gorgeous you looked, but I don’t remember anything about the dress?”

She rolled her eyes. “How could you possibly remember how I looked in the dress but not remember the dress I was wearing?” she asked, clearly skeptical. I supposed that was the difference between being a man and a woman. Women seemed to remember every polka dot and button on an outfit, while men—or me, at least—remembered even the most innocent peeks of skin and the way the clothes highlighted an amazing silhouette.

“I’m a man,” I replied simply. Her expression suggested she wasn’t impressed with this answer, and I pulled us to a stop. “I remember how long your neck looked.” I dragged one finger down the column of her neck. “I wanted to taste all that skin—from your jaw to your collarbone.” She tried to inhale, but her breath caught and goosebumps raised on her flesh. “I remember how tightly you held that dress to your chest to keep it from dropping down in front of Grant.” My finger slid along her collarbone from one shoulder to the other. “And I wondered if you’d loosen your grip if we were alone.”

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