Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 107204 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 536(@200wpm)___ 429(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107204 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 536(@200wpm)___ 429(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
“That is cute.”
She rolled her eyes. “Whatever. It’s stupid.”
“It’s not stupid. I think it’s sweet. And it’s a beautiful ring. Mama would’ve loved it.”
“Listen, I don’t like crying, so I’m going to walk away. Besides, your fake boyfriend is on his way over, and from the way he’s looking at you, you might want to remind him that this is a fake relationship.”
I glanced over my shoulder to see Alex approaching. He wore a plain white T-shirt and blue jeans, looking as good as he always had. The closer he drew, the more those honey, cocoa butter, and oak tree scents were revealed. Gosh, I loved how he smelled.
“Introduce me,” Avery whispered the closer he drew.
“What?” I asked, a bit awestruck with Alex coming my way.
Avery grumbled, stepped in front of me, and shot Alex her a cold look. “I’m Avery, Yara’s older sister.”
Alex smiled slightly and held a hand toward her. “I’m Alex, her—”
“Fake boyfriend, yeah, I know.” She shook his hand and held on a little too tight. “But I think you still need to hear me and hear me clearly. If you break my sister’s heart, real or fake, I will shatter your kneecaps.”
Alex started to laugh until he saw the serious look in her eyes. He then looked toward me. “She’s kidding, right?”
I shrugged. “She’s really good with baseball bats and has impeccable swings.”
Alex swallowed hard and then turned back to Avery. “I promise I’ll take care of her.”
Avery dropped her hold of his hand and huffed. “I almost believe you.” She glanced at his biceps and wrapped her hand around them. “Impressive build. What are you squatting?”
“Avery,” I scolded.
“What? I just want to know if I’m stronger than him,” she replied. I gave her a look that told her to behave, and she dropped her hold on Alex’s arm. “Fine, fine. I’m leaving. But remember, I have my eye on you,” she told him.
“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” he said.
She began walking away and gestured toward the two of us. “I have to admit. For something made up, y’all kind of look cute together.”
“It’s all her,” Alex mentioned. “And it seems those good looks run in the family.”
“Flattery only works on the West twins, Ramírez,” Avery said. “If you want to impress me, tell me how much you bench.”
“Goodbye, Ave!” I shouted, snickering to myself, because I knew she was telling the truth. One of Avery’s favorite pastimes was outlifting men.
The second she was out of sight, Alex shook off his whole body. “She sure knows how to make a man nervous.”
“She’d be happy to know that fact.”
“Is your other sister as intimidating as her?” he asked.
“Oh no, but she might try to get you to eat bugs or something weird. Or join a cult. It’s a tossup with her.”
“Why do I get the feeling that the Kingsley sisters are a handful?”
“We are complex characters, to say the least.” I held my picnic basket in the air. “Are you ready to pick me?”
“I was made for this moment. Shall we?” he asked, holding his hand out toward me. “I figured if we walked into the festival holding hands, it might add some drama.”
My mind went into a frenzy as I held his hand. His touch had a way of warming my whole body as the cool air of September rippled across my skin. I missed that. I missed holding someone’s hand. I couldn’t even remember the last time I held someone’s hand. Cole never liked to hold hands or display any kind of PDA at all. I was fine with it, mainly because I was fine with anything he did. It was his way or the highway, and I lost so many things about me that I actually enjoyed.
Like holding hands.
I liked that feeling.
No.
I loved that feeling.
I loved the feeling of being connected to someone, as if I didn’t know where my touch began and where his ended. As if we were one connection, moving in sync.
Before we started to walk, Alex released his hold so he could move to the other side of me, took the basket out of my grip, and then he took my hand once more. He was making sure I walked on the inside of the sidewalk.
And at that moment, before the noise of the festival filled my ears, I quietly, gently, unapologetically began to fall for the man who was only supposed to be pretend.
Pretend.
Wait.
What if he was just pretending? What if his actions weren’t his own, but just a script he’d developed in his head to make this arrangement of ours seem real to everyone else around us?
Stop falling, heart, I ordered to myself. This isn’t real.
The Prince Charming I made Alex out to be was exactly that—a fairy tale. A made-up story filled with fables. Still, a part of me that wondered what it would be like if it were real. Would his touch still heat me the way it had? Would he still want to hold my hand? Would he bid on my basket, even if I didn’t request him to do so?