Page 15 of Falling for your Fake Boyfriend

“Great.” The word squeezed out of my throat. And here I was thinking this would be an easy seven grand. My phone beeped with a text. I’d told my sisters that I would keep them posted on the weekend’s events and not to text or call unless it was an emergency. I needed to keep my head in the whole acting thing. It was a text from Kelly, my boss. I opened it. “Shoot. The boss fired me for taking the days off.” I sighed as I put the phone back in my pocket. “It’s all right. She was a miserable person to work for. One of the girls couldn’t make it to her assignment because her baby was sick, sick enough to go to the E.R. She even showed Kelly the receipt from the hospital visit. The baby was fine, thankfully, but Kelly fired the woman anyway.”

As I spoke, Luke pulled out his phone. I was slightly hurt that he wasn’t listening to my complaint or feeling the least bit guilty that he’d cost me a job. A woman answered. “Hey. Are you already at your parents’ place?”

“Not yet. Hey, Rosie, I need you to fire the cleaning company and then find a new one for the office building. Tell her it’s a reflection on her management style and has nothing to do with the service.” He hung up.

I smiled at him. “Well, that was unexpected.”

“I hate unjust employers. I suppose we should get back on the road. Although, something tells me that the road trip to the wedding is going to be the best part of the weekend.” His smile knocked me senseless for a second. Apparently, my feet weren’t entirely on the ground yet.

“You blush easily,” he said, which only made my cheeks warm more.

“Yes, it’s a curse.”

“No … it’s not.” There was a silent moment as our gazes locked. A nosy sparrow broke the spell when he landed on the picnic bench looking for crumbs.

Slightly flustered by the whole thing, we both reached for the canvas bag, and our fingers tangled, his long-tanned ones between my thin pale ones. I pulled my hand away fast, almost as if his touch had burned me. I silently chastised myself for such a silly reaction.

Another awkward silence followed, which I decided to mute with a suggestion as we walked back to the car. “Since you’re enjoying the road trip, how about stopping along the way at a point of interest?” I asked.

“Point of interest? I’ve driven this route many times, and I can’t remember any monuments or vistas.”

I lifted my chin. “Well then, you’re in for a big surprise, sir. Do we have time to stop?”

“Sure. Not in any hurry to face my parents.”

I clapped once. “This should befun.”

The museum was tucked, appropriately enough, in its own shadowy corner of a small town. The town was basically just a gas station, convenience store, a dog park … and a museum filled with oddities.

“Morbid Curiosity.” Luke read the hand-painted sign that had been propped on top of the loosely shingled roof of a square, one-story building. The unassuming building was wrapped in cracked, pewter gray stucco. The front windows were tinted, I assumed to keep people from looking in and seeing the treasures without paying admission.

Luke looked over at me. I shrugged. “I saw it on Instagram. Everyone says it’s extremely creepy and not to be missed.”

“There’s something inconsistent about that statement, but you know what? I’m game. Nothing could be scarier or more hair-raising than a weekend with the Greysons.”

I’d figured out all the minimalist nuances in his electric car and managed to open the door myself. He still hurried around to offer his gentlemanly hand and shut the door behind me. I liked being independent, but I had to admit, I didn’t mind the chivalry.

“We’re in luck. It’s open,” I said.

“Sure, we’ll call it luck,” he said.

We stepped inside and were both taken aback by the musty smell inside the museum. An aroma that seemed to be a mix of dust, damp and decay surrounded us. “You’re sure about this?” Luke asked.

Right then, a door opened and a man walked out. “Welcome.” His tone was more ominous than welcoming. I expected a goth-looking man or woman with coal black hair, a deathly pallor and a giant red rose tattooed in some obtrusive place. The man who now shuffled behind the ticket counter was short with a ruddy complexion and deep-set, beady eyes. It was ninety degrees outside the door and possibly even inside the mildewy shop, but he had a tweed hat with ear flaps pulled down over his head. A scarf with a skeleton hand design was tossed casually around his neck. His lips were thin, and he licked them entirely too often for my comfort. “Two tickets will be forty dollars.”

It had been my idea, so I reached for my pocket.

Luke already had the forty dollars out.

The man’s nails were black, but it wasn’t fingernail polish. He handed us two raffle-style tickets, which we stared at and then awkwardly handed back to him so he could rip them in half, like in a theater. He passed a printed map over the gritty counter. “Follow the arrows for the best tour,” he said, adding in a small tongue flick. Suddenly, he pulled something out from under the counter, and we both startled as the object smacked down on the counter. “Boris accepts donations.” A human skull’s vacant gaze stared up at us from the counter. The man tipped the top of the head back to open the jaw. There were a few coins inside.

I stopped Luke from reaching for his wallet and pulled a quarter out of my pocket. I didn’t dare get too close, worried the jaw might snap shut, so I tossed it from a foot away and managed to land it between the teeth. Boris’s jaw clacked shut.

We stepped hesitantly toward the door that was adorned with a shrunken head mounted like an animal trophy. Hand-painted letters beneath said “Enter if you dare.”

Luke peered down at me through dark lashes. “Do we dare?”

“I couldn’t face my Instragram followers if I said I visited the Morbid Curiosity Museum but never made it past the first door.”

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