My ex is getting married on the nineteenth. I'm doing the flowers. And I told everyone I'm bringing a date.
I don't have a date.
What I have is Silas Crane — forty-one, six-foot-four, sells me four hundred pounds of greenery a week and has said maybe nine hundred words to me in six years.
He said no when I asked. Then he showed up at my shop the next morning with a truck full of fir and said, “What time.”
Now we're practicing. How to stand. Where to put his hands. What to call each other in front of people.
He touches the small of my back like he's done it a thousand times. He says my name like it costs him something.
Three weeks. One wedding. That was the deal.
Nobody warned me the pretending would be the most honest thing I've ever done.
Tropes: Fake Dating • Age Gap • Grumpy Hero • Curvy Heroine • He Falls First • Small Town • Christmas Romance • Steamy
