Page 24 of Falling for your Fake Boyfriend

She glanced down at her dress. “Thanks, and no, I didn’t sew it myself. I found it at a second-hand store. The tags were still on it, so I snatched it right up.” She spoke so confidently, and she left the line of women so speechless, I wanted to prop Isla up on my shoulders and carry her around for a victory parade.

Mom looked as if someone had pushed a sour lemon between her lips. I took Isla’s hand and hurried her down the steps to the path that led between the pool house and my mom’s prized roses.

“That was perfect,” I said.

“What? You mean about the dress?” She shrugged. “It’s the truth, but I figured the mention of a second-hand store would make them all a little lightheaded. I think it worked.” She tugged my hand to stop our progress. “I’ll be able to handle myself with your mom and her friends. Let me earn the money. If you hide me away from them, they’ll know something is up.”

Right then, a woman with long brunette hair stepped into view. She was tall, statuesque, like a model on a Paris runway. She had her amazing figure wrapped in a skintight, shiny blue dress. She was barefoot and a pair of high heels hung from her fingers. She moved so elegantly; it looked as if she was on ice skates. Her smile was dazzling.

“Oh, it seems I’ve managed to navigate my way back to civilization,” she said. Her voice was as lovely as the rest of her. “I guess I’ll follow the scent of overpriced perfume and Cuban cigars and eventually end up at the veranda.” She moved her shoes to her left hand and stuck out her right. Her fingers were long and elegant and tipped with white nails. “I’m Alexandria but people call me Alex. What a cute dress,” she said to Isla. “Don’t you just love a dress with a Marilyn Monroe-style halter top?”

“I do and thank you. Your dress is beautiful, too.”

Her laugh was as elegant and gorgeous as the rest of her. “I’m sorry, I went straight to rambling on about Marilyn Monroe. I didn’t catch your names.”

Admittedly, it had taken me a second to find my tongue. “I’m Lucas Greyson, but people call me Luke. And this is Isla.”

“Ah, so you’re Luke.” She leaned in closely as if we’d known each other for years and not just seconds. “Just a warning, I think our moms have been hatching some matchmaking plans.” She straightened again. “But I love Maggie. It was so nice of her to invite us this weekend. Your stables are beautiful. I just picked out my horse for tomorrow morning’s ride.” She squinted an eye at me. “Majesty? The blue roan? Good or bad choice? The stable manager said he loves to take low shrubs and fences, and I do love to jump my horse whenever I’m out in the country.”

“Uh, yeah, he’s a great horse. He used to compete.”

“Perfect. Well, I’d better get back before my mom sends out the search crew. It was nice meeting you both.” It was hard not to watch her stroll off in her snug dress and long legs.

I pulled my gaze from her and looked over at Isla, only she’d already continued along the path. I hurried to catch up to her. “Hold on there. Don’t want you to get lost.” I chuckled, but she didn’t respond. We walked in silence for a stretch, and it took me a second to realize it was a cold silence.

We passed the pool house and, without charting any particular course, we headed toward the pond. A work crew was setting up the tent for the wedding on the lawn just past the pond. A pair of swans floated serenely on the rippled surface.

“I guess my sister decided to bring swans in for the wedding. She must have forgotten our trip to England when an angry swan chased her for getting too close to her babies. Rachel thought she could take one home as a souvenir.” I glanced over at Isla. She stared ahead. “Oh, come on, I was sure you’d like that story.”

Isla stopped so suddenly I had to throw on the brakes and turn back to her. “Why did you introduce me as Isla?”

“Because … uh … that’s your name?” Then I got it. I was such a thick-headed idiot. “I’m sorry, I should have introduced you as my girlfriend, Isla. In my defense—you’re not really my girlfriend, so I forgot.”

“Well, I’m no psychiatrist, but I’d say you left the girlfriend part out because the woman your mom was trying to match you with, the woman you wanted to avoid so badly you hired a silly, cash-desperate woman right off the street to pretend to be your girlfriend, intrigued you. So, when it came time to really build up the backstory and the whole fake relationship, you caved. I don’t blame you. She is easily the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met. Your mom’s roses were drooping in shame as she sashayed past. Should I go? I can just go. I’m sure there’s a bus depot?—”

I took her hand. “Isla, stop. Just stop. I’m sorry. I should have said you were my girlfriend.”

“No, like you said—I’m not your girlfriend. This whole plan was silly. Who in that crowd is ever going to believe that we’re a couple? I mean look at you.” She waved her hand at me, and I caught it again.

She peered up at me, and the look on her face went right to my chest and laid there like a lead blanket. “I didn’t just pick you up off the street. This is going to sound creepier than I’d like it to be, but the morning before I hatched this admittedly stupid plan, I watched you from my office window for so long I got way behind on work. You were filling coffee and helping and chatting with customers, and I couldn’t take my eyes off of you. You’re amazing. Don’t ever forget that, Isla.”

“Alexandria is amazing. I’m just Isla.” Her expression and posture had softened some. “I won’t be angry if you decide you don’t need me here as a buffer anymore.”

“Did I say that? Yes, she was beautiful and?—”

“Breathtaking and elegant and she can jump a horse whereas I’m very good at petting them and telling them how pretty they are, but those are my equestrian skills in a nutshell.”

I motioned with my head to keep walking. “I need you here … with me.”

Isla gasped and then scoffed. “Tennis courts. Of course. Why wouldn’t there be tennis courts?” She looked over at me. “Maggie. She called your mom Maggie. I didn’t even get Margaret.”

“Yep. Makes me like you even more. Hey, want to go pet some horses and tell them they’re pretty?”

“Yes. I need to hone my skills before tomorrow’s big ride.”

ChapterEleven

Isla

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