Page 6 of Strictly Pretend

“They don’t?” I’m stupidly curious to hear her words of wisdom on this one. She’s amusingly unpredictable.

“No. We break up with them because they’re cheating lying bastards.” Her face turns stern. “Did she break up with you because you cheated?”

“No.”

“Have you ever cheated?”

“I kissed two girls on the same day in first grade,” I tell her. “Does that count?”

She smiles again. “Don’t tell me. You’re one of the good guys.”

I open my mouth to tell her I’m really not, but she puts her finger on my lips, stopping me. “I know, I know, it depends who I’m asking.”

So now she can read my mind, too.

I wait for her to pull her finger away, but she doesn’t. Instead, she traces my bottom lip with the pad of her finger. Then the top one. Then she cups my jaw.

“You’re very pretty,” she whispers. And it’s weird because nobody has ever called me pretty before. Sure, I inherited good genes. The same dark hair and square jaw that my brothers have. But I like the way she describes me.

“So are you.”

There’s that smile again. And I don’t feel like I’ve earned it. Not being an asshole should be the baseline, not the smile winner.

“And that’s why I should walk you back to your bungalow so you can get some sleep before you catch your bus in the morning,” I tell her.

“I’m sleeping here, I told you.” And to make her point she lays down on her back in the grass, her red hair spilling out all around her face, the pink skirt of her dress spreading everywhere else. “I’m not going back to the bungalow.”

“I’m not letting you sleep here,” I say. “I’ll go see if there’s an empty room in the hotel.”

“I can’t afford to pay for a second room.”

“I’ll pay.”

Her lashes sweep down over her eyes. “You can’t pay for my room. I don’t know you.”

“I’m not staying in it with you.” Although now I’m imagining it. Because fuck it, I’m anti wedding and relationships all the way. But I’m still a man.

“Come on,” I say, scrambling to my feet. I hold my hand out to her and she takes it, letting me pull her up to standing. Despite her shoes being somewhere at the bottom of the lake, she’s still unsteady. I keep hold of her hand to make sure she doesn’t stumble again – or do something unpredictable like launching herself into the lake – and walk her back to the main building of the Eastham Country Club, avoiding the party and heading straight for the reception desk.

This wasn’t exactly how I’d envisioned my night at the fourth wedding of the year ending. Paying for a room for a woman I won’t sleep with.

But it could have been worse. Let’s face it, the next wedding probably will be.

CHAPTER

TWO

EMMA

It turns out there are no rooms available. Which isn’t a surprise because this is a big wedding and there are a lot fewer rooms than people here at the beautiful Eastham Country Club.

But then I see money changing hands – between my current knight-in-shining-armor and the night receptionist – and we’re unceremoniously led to a tiny room at the back of the building. It doesn’t even have a room number. Luckily, it’s far away from the wedding itself, and we don’t pass any guests, but it still feels strange as the bellhop opens the door to the single-bed room that will be my safe haven for the night.

“If you give me your email address I’ll send you the money over,” I say when the bellhop has left.

Whiskey guy shrugs. “No need. Consider it an apology from the male species.” He smiles and for the first time I see he has dimples in his cheeks. There’s just a hint of darkness where his beard is growing through, presumably after a shave this morning.

“I don’t even know your name,” I say.

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