My Super-Hot Fake Wedding Date

by Leigh James

  “Yes,” I said immediately. “You know I’m a vibe person. He’s a really nice guy. Sweet. He’s been delivering my packages for over a year, and all he does is smile at everyone. He’s, like, one of those happy outdoor people.” To me, a “happy outdoor person” meant anyone who didn’t have a desk job and may or may not have gone hiking in the past twelve months. “Plus, his name’s Roberto Palmieri. He’s totally an Italian Stallion!”

  “Ooh, Italian men are so pretty.” Josie sounded as though she were warming up to the idea, thank heavens.

  “You’re going to really like him. Trust me. Plus, it’s going to be totally casual, no strings. What could be better?”

  “Nothing,” Josie said supportively. “I have a good feeling about this, on the hot side of cautiously optimistic!”

  “Ha! Thanks.”

  She laughed. “Be safe, okay? I’ll see you tomorrow!”

  I took a deep breath. “Leave your phone on in case I need a consult.”

  “Always. That’s what BFFs are for.”

  Josie’s constant, unwavering support buoyed me, but my nerves trumped everything as I pulled into Winter Hill. Bob was waiting outside his apartment building with his bag. He wore a nice-fitting blazer and dark-rinse jeans. He looked good in his uniform, but he looked super hot in his street clothes.

  Crap, I’m going to need to fan myself!

  I rolled down the passenger’s window. “Hi!” I felt that stupid, too-wide smile affix itself to my face as I double-parked my SUV and popped the hatch. Bob put his stuff in the back and climbed in next to me. I could smell his shampoo and something else, something earthy and sexy and… Oh, for fuck’s sake! I didn’t know what it was, but it made my mouth water.

  “Hey.” He grinned, his dimple flashing. “You look nice.”

  “Really?” I stupidly ran my hand over my hair as I stared at him, taking in his square jaw, big shoulders, and dark eyes.

  “Really.” He waited for a second. “Are you ready to go?”

  “Yeah.” Stop staring, you idiot! “Totally.” I thankfully remembered how to put the car in drive. Then I pulled out, turned the corner, and headed back toward the highway. “We’re flying. Did I mention that?”

  “We’re not taking the ferry?” Bob’s voice took on a tinge of panic.

  “It’s just a forty-minute flight to the island. In and out.” I glanced at him. He was staring straight ahead, his big hands spread out on his thighs. “Are you okay?”

  “Sure.” But his expression read mayday!

  “We can take the ferry instead. It’s not difficult to get on this time of year.”

  He shook his head. “Let’s do it. I’m not much of a flier, but I haven’t tried it in years. I can do just about anything for forty minutes.”

  I didn’t know why—I swear!—but my face turned red when he said that.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah.” He gamely smiled at me. “We’re all about new adventures this weekend, right?”

  “Right.” Cheered, I maneuvered through the traffic and got off on the exit for Logan Airport. I hated the tunnel that led to the airport—a mile under a sagging ceiling, only two lanes, and not enough light. I glanced at Bob. “Kind of claustrophobic, isn’t it?”

  He nodded. “Claustrophobic. Yeah. I hate that feeling.” I didn’t know if it was just the crappy tunnel lights or if he was looking a little green. He didn’t say another word as we exited the tunnel and I turned into the parking garage.

  We hopped out. I grabbed my rolling garment bag, but Bob gallantly took my other suitcase.

  I smiled. “Thanks.” I took a closer peek at him when we got out of the garage. He did, in fact, look more than a little green. “Bob, we can totally take the ferry.”

  “Nah, I’m fine.” He smiled at me, but there were tiny beads of sweat on his upper lip.

  I wanted to argue, but he plastered a smile on his face and bravely strode into the airport. He didn’t say a word through security and didn’t hesitate as he took off his shoes and put everything into a plastic bin. He waited for me on the other side, smiling.

  But even underneath that handsome face and the polite expression, I recognized the terror in his eyes. I wasn’t sure how to comfort him. He was a big guy, at least six foot two, with muscular shoulders and a swagger. He’d held the door for me and carried my suitcase. He was a gentleman, and by my estimation, a guy’s guy. Big, strong guy’s guys did not like to admit to being petrified about something like flying. I knew it was a stereotype, but it was also true.

  I sat down next to him as we put our shoes back on. “Hey, do you like sports?”

  Bob looked at me as if I had three heads. “Yes. Do you?”

  “Love them. I especially love baseball.”

  He nodded. “Yeah, me too.”

  “You know what I love best about baseball?”

  Bob shook his head patiently. He clearly had no idea where I was going with the conversation.

  “The psychology behind pitching. Pitching is everything, right?”

  “Um, yep,” he said politely.

  “But because that’s true, the pitchers have the most pressure on them. They can win games, but they can also lose them. Pitchers suffer from a high rate of anxiety. Did you know that?” I was totally making that up, but I doubted he would Google to fact-check me in real time. “Do you know how pitchers handle their anxiety?”

  Bob shook his head.

  “They breathe. They do yoga breathing. Do you know how to do that?”

  “No, I don’t.” But he looked interested.

  “In through your nose”—I inhaled deeply—“and out through your mouth.” I exhaled in a whoosh. “You try it!”

  Bob inhaled through his nose then exhaled through his mouth. “Thanks. That’s great.”

  I patted his shoulder. “Forty minutes. One and done!”

  He nodded, smiled, and breathed in through his nose and out through his mouth. “Forty minutes. One and done.”

  I plastered another smile on my face. “That’s it!”

  Forty minutes. One and done. What could possibly go wrong?

  Chapter Five

  BOB

  I hadn’t flown in over ten years. That had been one of Katie’s biggest complaints. “We never go anywhere! Who drives to Florida? You’re such a buzzkill!”

  That Katie. Such a nurturer.

  Madison was very sweet, talking to me about baseball and telling me about pitcher anxiety. But I was on to her. The yoga breathing was for the birds. In order to get through the flight, I needed drugs, or perhaps a punch to the face. My hands were clammy as they called our flight. I did my yoga breathing and grabbed my carry-on. “Where are we going?”

  Madison bit her lip and pointed at the puddle jumper parked on the tarmac. It was maybe a little bigger than my delivery truck. “They don’t do big commercial flights to Nantucket.”

  “Oh. Right.” I wish I had been man enough to beg to take the ferry instead. My heart was thudding in my chest. Oh, for fuck’s sake. Why am I doing this?

  I glanced back at the airport. I could make a run for it.

  But then the flight attendant scanned my ticket, and I followed Madison down the ramp then ducked into the smallest plane I’d ever been on. It looked like it was made for pre-schoolers. Madison grabbed a seat, and I took the one next to her.

  “It’s probably just us.” She smiled at me encouragingly.

  I tried to focus on her pretty blond hair, which smelled fantastic and hung in waves over her shoulders, but all I could think about were my throbbing temples, pounding heart, and the fact that this plane was so small—

  Suddenly, five loud young men in their twenties climbed on board. They were whooping and laughing. They had identically perfect hair and were all wearing expensive aviator sunglasses even though we were inside.

  “Tyler? Hey, guys!” Madison sprang up and hugged the first one. “I didn’t know you were coming out today.”

  Tyler pushed
his sunglasses up on his head and carefully swooped his reddish-brown bangs back. “Of course we are. This is going to be the event of the year.” He snapped his gum and looked at me. “Who’s this?”

  “This is my boyfriend, Bob. He’s not much for flying.” She laughed nervously as Tyler sized me up. His friends took seats and started ordering drinks.

  I stood up and clasped Tyler’s hand, thrilled that not only was I taller than him but that my hand was twice the size of his.

  He frowned from behind his collarless maroon-leather jacket. “You look familiar.”

  “Huh.” I shrugged, playing dumb, but of course I knew exactly who he was. Tyler Dermody, associate vice president of Dermody Industries. I delivered to their warehouse in Southie at least once a week. “Boston’s a small town. We’ve probably seen each other around.”

  Tyler gave me a disapproving once-over and turned back to Maddy. “You look gorgeous, by the way. This weekend should be interesting. I hear Sienna’s already started partying.”

  Madison flopped back down in her seat. “What else is new?”

  Tyler motioned to us as the flight attendant approached. “I’m buying drinks.”

  Maddy wrinkled her nose. “It’s nine a.m.”

  “Whiskey.” I nodded at him. “And they’re on me.”

  Tyler shrugged in response then went to join his somewhat raucous friends. One of them had his phone out and was blasting something on YouTube. The other guys cheered.

  “How do you know him?” I asked Maddy.

  “Family friends—his parents and my parents have been close since we were kids.”

  My impression of Tyler, from delivering to his company for the past year and from seeing him today, was that he was a “cock of the walk” sort. A cock of the walk liked to be in charge. They liked people to notice them. They carried themselves in a manner that let everybody know they had money and connections and not to fuck with them or worse, try to make them look bad. I’d seen him red-faced and yelling at his employees one day. He’d snapped at me one time when I accidentally put a wet package down in the wrong spot. He was not my type of guy.

  But I’d been dealing with guys like Tyler my whole life. My firm had been full of them. They had pretended to be friendly, but deep down, they’d hated me. I’d always thought it was because of my dimple. They couldn’t buy a dimple. They hated that.

  So I made sure to flash it when the flight attendant brought my drink, and I happily gave her my credit card. I tilted my mini bottle in Tyler’s direction. Drinks are on me, you douche!

  But the plane started rolling forward, and any iota of alpha badassness I possessed dissipated, only to be replaced with a pounding heart and clammy hands. I knocked back the whiskey, and Madison stared. “Whoa. You sure you’re all right?”

  I nodded as the plane turned and drove toward the runway. “Great.” I shifted in the tiny seat. “Is it hot in here?” I checked my seat belt and tugged at my jacket.

  “Maybe this will help.” Madison adjusted my fan, but I barely felt it. She peered at me, a worried expression on her face, and dug around in her bag until she found a tissue. “And here. You’re sweating.”

  Just perfect. I grabbed the tissue from her and wiped my face. The plane started to pick up speed, and my chest squeezed. My breath turned wheezy. Tyler turned around and laughed when he saw me. “I guess you really don’t like to fly.” He smiled, but it wasn’t a nice smile. It said, Pussy!

  I couldn’t even articulate an insult. “Try the yoga breathing,” Madison whispered. She inhaled through her nose and exhaled loudly out through her mouth. I tried it, too. Tyler and his friends howled with laughter.

  “Just ignore them. C’mere.” Madison guided my head down toward her shoulder. “Shh. Everything’s okay.” She stroked the back of my head, and I started to feel a little better after I closed my eyes.

  But then the plane started to taxi.

  I clutched Maddy and tried not to cry. Hottest first date ever! I didn’t even think she knew what was going on. A full panic seized me. The plane shook. My heart raced. Sweat ran down my back.

  “Is he all right?” the flight attendant asked.

  “Um…” Madison really didn’t know the answer.

  “Just make sure he stays buckled.”

  The plane started going faster, faster than any crazy-ass Massachusetts driver on the interstate, faster than it should have been going. Oh my god, it was going so fast! Then the front of the little plane lifted off the ground. Tyler and his douche crew cheered, and I looked up at Maddy. “I don’t feel so good.”

  “Okay! All right!” She looked around, panicked, and I got the impression that maybe she wasn’t so good in an emergency. She rummaged through the pocket on the back of the seat and pulled out a small white bag. She hastily opened it and handed it to me. “Just in case, you know—”

  I threw up noisily into the bag. Then I moaned and threw up again, all the while hunched next to the lovely Madison A. Delaney.

  The plane made it into the air, and two rows in front of us, douchebag Tyler laughed raucously. “Best. Weekend. Ever!”

  Chapter Six

  MADISON

  “So… it wasn’t that bad, was it?”

  Roberto Palmieri, a.k.a. the Italian Stallion, a.k.a. my super-hot fake date, smiled as he wiped his face again, making sure the vomit was all gone. “No problem.”

  I leaned closer so Tyler, who was being a total loser, couldn’t hear me. “We can totally take the ferry home.”

  Bob nodded weakly. “Deal.”

  I patted his hand. “C’mon. We have a driver waiting for us.”

  We waited until Tyler and his annoying friends—a lot of whom were also Sienna’s friends—were safely off the plane. “See you at the house!” Tyler called. He and his entourage hopped into an enormous SUV and drove off, their aviator sunglasses firmly in place.

  “They’re staying with you?” Bob’s forehead wrinkled as he watched the SUV fly over the grassy airport parking lot. “All of them?”

  “No. Tyler’s family has their own house on the island. They’re just coming over for cocktail hour later.”

  “Yay.” Bob grabbed our bags, but the driver came over and insisted on taking them.

  “I know.” I sighed as I climbed into the back of my parents’ enormous Navigator. “Tyler’s not my favorite person, but he’s like family. I’ve known him since I was a kid.”

  Bob climbed in next to me. He was still pale, but he looked so much better than he had a few minutes ago. He popped a breath mint in his mouth, poor guy. “Did you ever date him?”

  I wrinkled my nose. “Ew, no. Totally not my type.”

  Bob stared. “I think he’s into you.”

  “Nah.”

  The driver climbed in. “Nice to see you, Ms. Delaney. Your mother asked me to pick a few items up downtown. Is it okay if we go there before we head to the house?”

  “Of course, Chip! We’re not in any rush.” I was actually in the opposite of a hurry to get to my house, face my parents, and field questions about Bob.

  Bob waited until Chip pulled out onto the main road before he asked me in a low voice, “So, what is your type?”

  I put up the privacy screen. “That’s an awfully personal question.”

  Bob chuckled. “I just almost threw up all over you, and I’m about to meet your parents. I’m sorry I was so sick. It didn’t give us any time to talk.”

  “You don’t have to be sorry. I’m sorry! I had no idea, and I didn’t think to ask if flying was okay.”

  “It’s fine. Fear of flying’s kind of unusual, unlike food allergies, which you did ask me about. So c’mon—logistics.” He nudged me gently. “Tell me what what we’re telling your parents about us, everything. You already told Tyler I was your boyfriend. We need to build off that.”

  I nodded. “I was thinking we could tell everyone that we met last month at an industry event and that we’ve been seeing each other ever since.”

 
“What industry are you in again?”

  “Right, you don’t know.” I groaned. “I run a technology company. We offer tailored cloud services to boutique businesses.”

  He nodded. “Got it.”

  “You do?” Most people just blinked at me when I explained what my company did.

  “Yeah, I do. So what’s your story for me? With the driver and the Boca-Raton fall casual dress code, I’m guessing that telling them the truth isn’t in your best interests.”

  I frowned. “Is it okay with you if I lie?”

  Bob nodded. “You just basically held my hair back for me while I puked. I’m at your service.”

  “Okay. Thank you. I think I’m going to say you’re in the import/export business because it’s not technically lying. My parents…” I squirmed in my seat. Talking about what snobs they were was painful, but not as painful as watching people meet them for the first time and size them up.

  He watched me. “Go on.”

  “My parents are tough. They’re very interested in a certain type of lifestyle with a certain group of people, and they don’t have much room for flexible thinking. They are also total, complete, flaming hypocrites, but that’s another story.”

  He nodded. “Okay.”

  “They’re also snobs. I can’t even stand to be around them if you want to know the truth.”

  He raked a hand through his hair. “Well, they must be bad if you feel like you have to lie to them.”

  “Yeah, but I think that makes me as bad as they are. I’m sinking to their level by playing their game.”

  “Nah.” Bob flashed his dimple. “You’re just getting through the weekend. I get it.”

  “You do?”

  “I told you, I have a family. They’re no picnic either.”

  I frowned at him. “Why don’t you have a girlfriend, Bob? You seem like a really nice guy.”

  “Now that’s a personal question.”

  “Right, but we only have twenty minutes to get to know each other, so…” I looked at my watch. “Go for it.”

  “I had a girlfriend for a long time.” He shrugged, trying to brush it off. “She’s getting married to someone else this weekend. A friend of mine, actually.” He sounded sad.