I take his hand in my own, twining our fingers as the wedding march floats through the trees. Everyone stands to watch my beautiful sister walk down the aisle. I do my best to hold back tears, but I’ve never been really good at keeping them from falling. My face is a mess by the end of the ceremony. Thank God I had the forethought to bring a handkerchief. I roughly wipe at my face as Andy and Ethan kiss.
“Top ten best weddings I’ve ever been to,” Trevor says, voice a little raw.
“Really?”
“Oh yeah. So much love here.” Trevor places a hand over his heart, eyes misty. “I can feel it. You guys are a real family.”
“What about your family?” I ask because I’m curious to know about him.
His face shutters closed. “My family is nothing like this.”
“I’m sorry.”
Trevor’s face transforms to hide every ounce of sadness. I can’t explain why but that sends a pang of my own sadnessthrough me. To know he’s hiding from me, pretending. He might just be my fake boyfriend, but all I know how to do is care for people. The urge to pry him apart, know his tells, know what could ever make him sad, is so great that it almost threatens to boil over.
“Now we party,” I tell him.
Another earth-shattering grin is aimed my way. My heart does a little skip in my chest. I try to ignore it, but it’s hard to do that when Trevor is so perfect. But I do my best to remind myself he’s being paid to be perfect.
I love my family, but they’re loud and obnoxious. Even more so at events like a wedding where there’s an excuse for loudness. Probably why I’ve spent much of my life on the outskirts, always being the helper, because after a few hours with them, my head pounds. It does now too, but everything’s a little better with Trevor by my side. In an unexpected turn of events, Harper and Trevor might actually be becoming friends.
Which is dangerous if Harper finds out what Trevor does for a living. Because Harper cannot keep a secret. That boy has looser lips than a bullfrog on a lily pad.
Trevor’s deep laugh breaks me from my reverie. He’d wandered to the bar to get us both a beer, but he was stopped by Colby. I use his distraction as a chance to take Trevor in when he’s not keen to my assessing gaze. Suit jacket off, on the seat beside me, so his strong shoulders are on display. Trevor’s not short, probably average height for a guy. He’s muscled too, the kind from the gym. And his smile is wide and sure in a way that says it doesn’t take much to fake being a nice guy.
Sensing my stare, his warm gaze slides over the crowd to meet mine. My heart does another one of those traitorous rolls and bursts in my chest. His eyes soften, and he bites his lip, then hurriedly ends his conversation with Colby. All to come back to me. To take a seat beside me with a tired release of breath.
“Weddings are so much work,” Trevor informs me, sliding me a still-cold beer despite him being waylaid by Colby.
Leaning back in my chair, I take a slow sip. People are eating and mingling, but I know the dancing will start soon. My sister is a family girl to the roots, so she used our distant cousins' bluegrass band for the reception. Notes from the guitars and banjos waft over us, easing my discomfort from all the people around me.
“How are you doing?” Trevor asks softly.
His fingers come up to play with the hairs at the nape of my neck, sending jolts of lightning throughout every one of my extremities. Touch has always been a double-edged sword for me. At times I crave it, but at other times it makes me uncomfortable. Probably why I’ve never been a one-night-stand type of guy. A stranger's touch usually makes me feel like I’ve lost something. But Trevor’s touch is a steadying pressure, dancing along all the good nerve endings in my brain.
“I’m alright,” I whisper back.
Trevor tips his beer back to take a taste, showing off the arch of his elegant throat. He carefully surveys the crowd, then zeros in on the dance floor. “What are the odds of getting you on the dance floor with me later?”
“Pretty good after one or two more beers.”
“Good to know.”
“So, you’re in school. What do you want to do?”
“I’m getting a psychology degree.”
“That’s a lot,” I admit honestly.
Trevor kicks me softly under the table, lips tilting up in a smile. “Sometimes. And you? You’ll run the farm until you retire?”
I nod as I take a sip of my beer. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted. It’s what I know.”
“Nothing bad about that.”
Humming softly in agreement, I push my beer away from me. Angling my head towards him, faces only inches apart, I easily hold his gaze. From this close, I can clearly hear the sharp intake of breath from Trevor, like my proximity can still shock him. A stray lock of his hair tickles my chin. The golden strand twists easily around my finger, so soft, like the silky petal of a sunflower. I tug gently, then move it away, tucking the strand back in with the rest of his hair. Softly, and slow enough so he can track my movements, I skim my fingers down the length of his arm, coming to rest at the curve of his elbow.
“Trevor,” I say softly, an edge of need in my voice.
