But He's My Fake Fiancé (But He's a Carter Brother #3)

by Annah Conwell

I’m glad I chose today to destroy a car.

I create a custom playlist for each novel I write, and I spend the entire time I’m writing said book listening to that playlist on repeat.

This whole place reeks of judgment.

I blink at her. Were those real words? Did I just hallucinate? I look to my dad, who is downing the rest of his whiskey like the fountain of youth is at the bottom of it. Swell.

It’s a dangerous thing to go into a bookstore while in an emotional state,

She’s delicate and beautiful, yet resilient. I don’t know what she’s been through, but I know her words. I know that if her pen reveals her heart then she’s known pain and stood tall as she walked through it.

“So I’m Rose now?” “Naturally, we need code names.”

“I can be a great distraction,” I say and she smiles. “Is that meant to be a line?” “Do you want it to be?”

How can a woman so breathtaking and utterly brilliant be unsure of herself? Seeing her fidgeting in front of me makes me want to find whatever is causing this insecurity and rip it apart.

“So,” he begins while I’m trying to wrap my head around what I’ve just done. “Have we set a date yet?”

She lets out a real laugh this time, and all I want to do is ensure that she does it again and again.

Excitement rushes through my veins like I just drank an energy drink and a coffee back-to-back–neither of which I’m allowed to have anymore, according to my family.

“What are you in such a rush for?” He lets me tug him to the elevator, smiling the whole way. “If you’re anxious to get to the post-date kiss, I’m happy to oblige you now.”

“I’m sorry for manhandling you,” I say. A wicked grin spreads over his face. “You can handle me any way you like, wifey.”

“I’ve decided to become a brooding enigma like you. Can you teach me how to scowl?”

I understand what it’s like to be on a carousel of emotions. To feel like you can’t get off no matter how badly you want to.”

“Grayson, I’m really trying to be spontaneous and adventurous, but I am neither of those things, and I’m also in heels,”

The first thing I see is a photo of me, champagne bottle to my lips, the sunset like a fire behind me. My hair is a mess, my dress wrinkled, and there’s cupcake frosting all over my hands. But I still smile at my screen. Because I look … free.

Gray: Good morning, Bubbles. Had fun celebrating our engagement last night. If you’re already overthinking everything like I suspect, don’t. I had more fun with you than I’ve ever had on a date.

Also, are you judging me? Because it feels like I’m being judged for being likable and attractive.

I’m going to a mansion in shorts and a t-shirt.

“I think I’m rubbing off on you and I don’t know how to feel about it.”

“I told you how beautiful you look when I picked you up.” He glances to the right, a smirk on his lips as he makes a show of looking me over. “I can expound on that, if you’d like.”

“We’re here together, which means we’re going to be fine.”

“Are you okay?” he asks me, concern rippling over his features, removing any traces of his own emotions. I wonder how often that happens. “Are you?” I return his question. An emotion flickers in the depths of his eyes,

If I stay busy, I can keep these feelings under control.

“Everyone, this is Sloane, member of the winning Cornhole team. Who wants to lose first?”

A list of coping mechanisms runs through my head, but instead of it being comforting to have options it’s overwhelming. I don’t want to go through this alone.

I always feel the most creative when it’s dark and quiet.”

The most I can get away with when it comes to Adrian is a lie of omission, so that’s what I go for.

Is this my karma for writing not one, not two, but five books with the ‘only one bed’ trope? Myla

“A pillow boundary,” he repeats my words, amusement lacing his voice.

I’m keenly aware that this man is being vague because he’s mischievous by nature. Like a troll under a bridge. Only, he doesn’t look like a troll.

I put my hands on my hips. “Don’t tell me what to do. I’m not doing anything until you tell me where we’re going.” He raises a dark brow, eyes gleaming. “I could always kidnap you. Though I’m not sure if it’s considered kidnapping if you want it to happen.”

Warm, strong arms wrap around my waist from behind. I squeak, stiffening in my spot. “I’m sorry for teasing you,” he murmurs near my ear. I think I’ve forgotten how to breathe. “But don’t make me watch the sunset alone, please.” He could ask me to jump out of a plane with no parachute right now and I’d say yes.

“The smallest, tiniest, most miniscule part of me thinks that it might possibly be kinda sorta fun.”

His thumb caresses my cheek. I try not to let the action go to my head. It quickly does, burning itself into my neural pathways so I’ll be doomed to relive the perfection on every sleepless night.

My voice grows louder and louder until I’m singing the way I do when I’m alone and think no one can hear me.

I come up giddy and breathless and alive.

He wraps me up in a hug that I could live in.

“You’re good, Grayson Carter. The very definition of it.”

I’ve spent the past few years wondering if my loneliness was because there was something wrong with me. But here she is, whispering into my very soul, contrasting my deepest insecurity with a mere sentence.

Grayson’s lips turn up in a mischievous grin. “I have so many ideas on how to ruin today.” “You’re quite villainous this morning,” I say as I reach for my coffee. “Well, my future wife does have a weakness for morally grey men.”

“I’m sure my dad wasn’t happy he lost. I think most people lose on purpose around him.” “They’d have to, because there’s no way he’s beating anyone with skill.” I burst into laughter, my head falling forward on his chest.

He puts his Kindle in the bag next to mine. It shouldn’t be romantic to see them together, but it is.

“What do you think about getting dinner, then having ice cream and watching the sunset?” I think you’re perfect and if I had more courage, I’d tell you I want this to be real.

They likely think we’re going to fight, but we’re not. We’ll simply be walking with them after our conversation.

Is this okay? my kiss asks. Do you want me?

It’s yours, I think as I stare into her honeyed hazel eyes. My heart is yours, if you want it.

“You flirt and tease and are someone to everyone.” I wince at her words. “But this you,” she whispers, running her fingernails over my scalp. My eyes close in pleasure. “This you is all mine.”