Chapter 7

"Forgive me," I say as I step on Beckett's toes after he watches me dance to Luke Bryan's, Crash My Party. He steadies me in his arms. "Thanks for a perfect date. I don't want this night to end."

"Me either," he mumbles. Or at least I think he does. I've had three bourbon drinks as if to prove I'm up to the task of marrying a biker.

Nearly every person in the Brown Jug bar knows him. They slap his back, pull him into hugs, and tell them he's always welcome in Kissing Springs. The women ogle him, and I can't even be mad. Beckett Landry is easy on the eyes.

He raises his hand waving two people over. It's easy to tell that it's his twin by his eyes. His wife, I assume is leading the way with a contagious smile.

I tug on Beckett's hand, making him lean down to me, and ask, "Already introducing me to family?"

Beckett turns his head, and his lips hover over mine. "I would never get married if my brother didn't approve of my girl."

His girl.I wish. I'm a mere pawn in a business scheme. When I'm sober, I'm going to figure it out.

"Beckett." The blonde, curly haired woman bounces over landing in his arms, and his smile is as genuine as I've seen in our short time together. "Thank you for getting us out of the house. The kids are making me feel old."

"We're not old. Besides, I wanted you to meet my… girlfriend, Tessa." He struggles to get the words out, and Vanessa slaps his chest.

"What? Oh my God, yes. I'm so happy for you, Beckett." She turns back to me. "Beckett has never had a girlfriend that I know of. Aren't you lucky?"

I look up at him and realize I am lucky. He's gorgeous, with a smoking-hot body. He's a good listener, and he loves his family. We have that in common.

His twin Beau wears his hair cut short on the sides—the military type with it a little longer on top. He's built the same as Beckett. Is it possible they don't even workout for all those muscles? Did God just grace them and leave all the other guys to be average? "God gave the world two of you. One wasn't enough?" The words slip through my drunken mouth before I can stuff them back in.

Vanessa giggles. "Every girl's dream."

Beau says, "Stop. All that matters is I'm your dream."

"Since sixth grade." Vanessa peers into his eyes giving him a quick kiss. "Looks like you two are having fun. How was the food at Two Fourteen?"

One strong arm wraps around my waist, and I melt into Beckett's torso. He's been attentive and really selling our relationship making my tipsy ass want more than an arranged marriage. I sway my ass, grazing against his groin.

What? A woman's allowed to have some fun even in the midst of fake relationship.

I peer down at my stomach and grab the extra inches from the fluffy, overstuffed baked potato. "Can't you tell? Delicious. But maybe your Beckett can help me work it off," I say, leaning my head back against his chest, lifting my brows.

Vanessa pops a laugh and gives Beckett a scant glance as if she knows he'll get skittish and needs an out. "Let's all dance."

"Come on, Beck; it won't kill you to dance," Beau says.

A quick spin, and I'm looking into Beckett's eyes. "Please, Beck," I say with my chin dropping just enough to peek at him from under my lashes.

Without a word, he leads me onto the dance floor, and he keeps several inches of air between us, but he never loses eye contact with me except when I twirl around his finger. After a few songs, the band plays a slow one. This time, he holds me close. My body thrums, and his heart hammers against my chest. Then he whispers in my ear, "You're hard to resist."

"Then don't."

Still, his lips cover the shell of my ear. "This isn't real."

"Feels pretty real," I respond by pressing my stomach against his center, finding a thick, hard ridge. I slip one hand between us and rub my hand up and down over his coarse jeans.

He utters, "Fuck." He walks away, leaving me by myself. Vanessa and Beau glance at me and then at Beckett, storming through the Brown Jug.

"What happened?" Beau wears a concerned look on his face.

I shrug. I'm positive he knows his brother better than I do, and I can't let on that this is fake. Especially when I want to screw him seven ways to Sunday. Beau follows his twin, and Vanessa grabs my hand, taking me to the high-top tables in the corner.

The waitress bounces over. "Bourbon, I presume."

"Oh, hell no. Give us a vodka cranberry with a double shot of vodka." When the waitress walks away, Vanessa grabs my hands. "Tell me everything. How did you meet? When? I can't remember the last time he's been on a date."

She scrunches her nose .

"We met at a bar in Fancy Falls last week." I fill her in on the fake details that Beckett and I came up with.

She takes the drinks from the waitress and says, "I have to catch up," then gulps down half of the drink.

"You said he doesn't date. Is he …?"

"A playboy?" Her brows lift. "No, I don't think so."

"Is he celibate?"

Vanessa sprays her drink all over the floor. "Why would you ask that?"

I lift my shoulders, then hide behind my big, fat margarita glass.

"Tell me," she insists.

"I don't know. It seems like every time we get ready to kiss, he pulls back."

Putting her elbows on the table with her brows furrowed, she asks, "You haven't kissed? Hmmm."

I shake my head.

"Maybe he feels weird since you're so much younger. In fact, I'm surprised. He never seemed into girls younger than him." After a brief pause, she says, "But I can see why he likes you. You bring him out of his shell. He didn't even dance at our wedding."

"So, has he always been quiet?"

Vanessa splutters, "He… he has been lately. When we were kids, Beckett and Beau were the same, but I guess as you grow and go different ways, you begin to form your own identity."