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

by Annah Conwell

Might as well slap the word welcome on my forehead because I’m a certified doormat.

She giggles and the whole store brightens. The sound embodies pure joy and I’m convinced it could chase away rainclouds on the darkest, stormiest day.

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?”

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.

I do, big time. But if she likes the marshmallows, I’ll eat the mushy cardboard-tasting bits.

“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?”

“You are positively rakish, Grayson Carter.” “I love it when you talk bookish to me.”

“Are you tired?” he asks and I frown. “What?” “Because you’ve been running through my mind all day.”

“If you were words on a page, you’d be what they call fine print.” I groan. “No, that one is worse.”

“If being sexy was a crime, you’d be guilty as charged.” Even he can’t make it through that one all the way before laughing. I’m in a fit of giggles by the time he’s opening the club’s door for me.

“They were pleasant,” Grayson says once they’re out of earshot. I huff out a laugh. “As pleasant as a bee stinging your eye.” “Very nice–and disturbing–metaphor. I can see why they pay you the big bucks.”

I grin at her. She stares at me. “There’s no way they just left the keys in there.” I pull the keys out and lift them to show her. “Golf is a gentleman's sport. They expect everyone to act accordingly. But I’m no gentleman.” I wink and get what I was hoping for, a laugh.

“Isn’t that what you said earlier? I’m fine print.”

“Myla says you caused this by writing all of those one-bed scenes in your books.” Simone’s voice is laced with humor. At least I wasn’t the only one with that theory.

If falling for her is jumping out of a plane, I don’t even need a parachute, just let me get a running start.

Emotion burns within me as I realize just how perfect she is. She’s the sun-warmed towel waiting for you when you get out of the water. A chocolate chip cookie right out of the oven. The kind of book you read over and over again because it never gets old. She’s comfort and adventure intertwined in the most achingly beautiful package.

This woman is going to be the death of me, but at least I’ll die happy.

“You’re a fan?” I let out a disbelieving laugh. “I read your newsletter every week, I’ve read all the bonus content you put out, bought every special edition you’ve released, and annotated all of my copies. I’d say that makes me a fan.”