Page 55 of The Fine Art of Faking It
“Their sterling reputation of perfect matches,” Davis answered.
“Exactly. They want us to fall in love? Fine. We’ll do it. And everyone in town will know it.”
“But really we’re just setting the stage,” he prodded.
“That’s right. You’re going to dump me—again—in the most spectacular public breakup in Blue Moon history. By the time we’re done, the entire town will know that the Beautification Committee is to blame.”
“This might be the rage talking, but you’re incredibly sexy when you’re plotting evil schemes,” Davis told her.
Eden laughed. Every time she laughed or smiled at him, the entire restaurant stopped and stared. They were witnessing fifty-plus years of animosity be replaced with what looked like a good old-fashioned, star-crossed love affair.
She leaned in over the table. “We’re going to give them what they want most in this world. And then we’re going to snatch it away from them.”
He’d never been more attracted to a woman in his entire life than he was at this exact moment.
“How far should we go to sell it?” he asked huskily as he leaned forward over their shared heart-shaped pizza. “I mean, are we kissing in public?”
Eden met him halfway. “Whatever it takes.”
This time it was his lips meeting hers, sealing the deal.
* * *
BEAUTIFICATION COMMITTEE GUIDELINES
SECTION T: Observation
All matches must be observed to ensure that the matchmaking process is proceeding in a healthy, optimal direction. Observation techniques deployed may include: undercover/in disguise surveillance, listening to and participating in town gossip, innocently overhearing match-based conversations, etc. Unfortunately, committee members are no longer permitted to employ any such listening devices or let themselves into the homes of matchees unless there are extenuating danger-related circumstances. Please see Town Ordinance 17-06 of 1985.
22
In celebration of their official weekiversary, Davis was taking Eden to dinner at Villa Harvest. She’d decided to take for a spin the long-sleeved red wrap dress she’d bought on a whim three years ago and never worn. The life of an innkeeper wasn’t particularly glamorous, and the impulse buy was buried behind a collection of sensible, comfortable clothes that enabled her to cook, bake, and scrub vomit out of showers when necessary.
She put a little more effort than usual into her hair and makeup and was rewarded with Davis’s abrupt stop in the lobby. Chewy, who needed a bit of grooming himself and couldn’t see past the fur in his eyes, walked into the back of his legs and almost sent Davis flying into her.
“You look… wow,” Davis offered, admiring her from head-to-toe. Eden felt the heat of his gaze and tried not to notice how nicely he filled out the navy suit he’d chosen.Was that a vest? Oh, hell. She was a sucker for a man in a vest.
“I see you finally got a chance to go shopping,” she said. The suit made her nervous. His thrift store wardrobe had downplayed his blatant sexuality. It had masked his powerful shoulders and leanly muscled torso. Badly Dressed Davis had been less intimidating. Now, he was all charm and style. And she felt like she was an awkward seventeen again.
Sunny whistled at them from behind the desk. “Wowsers. You two look gorge! I’m taking a picture!” She whipped out her phone.
“Smile pretty, love of my life,” Eden said, without moving her smiling lips.
“Smiling like the sweetest revenge depends on it,” Davis confirmed.
“Make sure you put the filter with the little hearts on it,” Eden called as they headed for the front door.
“Milady,” Davis said, opening the passenger door of his SUV with a flourish.
“You’re too kind and very, very handsome,” Eden crooned. “I hope your seats recline so I can swoon comfortably.”
Villa Harvest was doing a brisk business. Eden waved at a table of her guests who were enjoying a family-style serving of fettuccini and a heavenly basket of fresh garlic bread.
Phoebe, Franklin’s wife, was standing in as hostess tonight looking stylish in all black. “Well, don’t you two look delicious tonight?” she teased.
“We’re celebrating our one-week anniversary,” Eden announced, cuddling into Davis’s side. It was weird how comfortable he was to touch. It was as if her body was making up for years of playing “Davis Gates is Lava.”
Phoebe led them to a cozy booth near the fireplace.
