Page 14 of Falling for your Fake Boyfriend

“You haven’t had to pull it out yet?”

She smiled slyly my direction but didn’t answer.

“You’re right. Too personal.”

Isla sat forward. “There’s a park off this ramp. It butts up against a pasture that’s always filled with goats. Care for some homemade croissants and jam?”

“Again, I doubt I’d ever have reason to say no to a homemade croissant.”

ChapterSeven

Isla

Iwas thrilled to see the goats were still in the same pasture. The herd was even bigger. Most of them had plopped down into self-dug dirt holes, casually chewing their cud as they soaked up the early afternoon sun. The park was a bright green patch of grass with two shade-tossing maple trees, a swing set and slide and a drinking fountain that had seen better days. A gentle breeze vibrated the air. It wasn’t the usual briny breeze I was used to. This one carried the more earthy smells of grass and grazing animals. And Luke’s soap. It was a good scent—one part spice, one part man—a fragrance that I would forever equate with the person wearing it.

I dropped the canvas bag on the most shaded picnic table and hurried over to the low wooden fence that kept the goats from wandering into the public park. A few goats popped their heads up from grazing, but most went right on with their morning. Two perky-looking babies decided to check out the new stranger. They trotted in my direction, adding in a few sidekicks and head shakes as they made their way across.

“They look excited to see you,” Luke said from behind. I glanced back. His sunglasses were perched in his short dark hair. The sunlight made his hazel eyes look green. I’d only seen him before in a dress shirt, but today he was wearing a T-shirt. His arms were thick with muscles. Everything about him was breathtaking. I pulled my gaze from him.

“Feet firmly on the ground, Isla,” I muttered to myself.

“What’s that?” he asked. Even his voice had those rich, smooth overtones that could make a girl swoon.

“I was just saying that I wish I had goats.” The two young goats had reached the fence. Curiosity pushed them to stand on their back feet, their small front hooves clacking against the wood railing.

“Look back so I can get a picture of you with your friends,” Luke said.

I turned my face back over my shoulder and smiled. He held up his phone. “Beautiful.” It seemed he took a few shots, and I tried not to read too much into it.

“It will lend credence to our story if I have photos of you on my phone,” he explained.

My posture deflated, and my smile vanished with it. I turned back to the goats, and their sweet faces helped me kick the disappointment that he wasn’t taking pictures to remember me after this was all over.

The goats allowed us to pet them for a few seconds before dancing off to the herd.

We walked back to the table, and I pulled out the croissants and raspberry jam. Luke went to the car and returned with the water bottles he’d filled for both of us.

I handed him a jam-filled croissant on a linen napkin. He took a bite. “Better than the ones I’ve tasted in France. Where did you learn to bake?”

“You’ve been to France?” I sighed. “Of course you have. You’ve probably been all over the world.”

“I’ve traveled. But you haven’t answered my question. Culinary school?”

“Too expensive. My grandmother, Maeve. I used to spend a lot of time in the kitchen with her. She knew how to make everything, even croissants. She’d been to Paris a few times as a girl because she lived right across the water in Ireland.”

“Well, you need to start that bakery. These are delicious.”

“What about you?” I took a bite. The croissant melted in my mouth, leaving behind the sugary acidity of the jam. “You know my dream. Have you already achieved yours? With the business? Or will you have to shift gears to your father’s business once he hands it over?”

He raised a brow at me. “Your sister Ella has been busy.”

“She has.” I added jam to another croissant. “It’s all right. I didn’t mean to pry.”

“No, I don’t mind talking about it. It’s certainly no secret to my family.” I realized, randomly, that two creased lines appeared on each side of his mouth when he smiled. “I don’t want anything to do with my dad’s shipping company. I’ve got my own company, a company that works toward a goal of a better planet.” He shook his head. “Nope, not going to get up on that soapbox today. I’m sitting at a park, for the first time since—since I can remember, which sounds pathetic, I know. The food is delicious. The weather is perfect and so is the company.” He lifted his bottle, and I lifted mine to tap for a toast. “It’s the proverbial calm before the storm. Hurricane Greyson, as I’m naming it.”

I put down the croissant I was holding. “Maybe I should just catch a bus back home.”

He laughed. “I’m exaggerating. Sort of. My family can be a lot. But there’ll be so much activity and so many people sweeping in and out of the house, you can just sit back and watch the circus unfold.”

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