“No, you made me work for it.” I lifted our joined hands to my mouth, kissing the back of Frankie’s hand. “But then anything worth having is worth waiting on.”
Tiffany smiled. It was smaller than her other smiles. “That’s sweet,” she said.
Leo cut in, looking straight at me. “I don’t remember you mentioning you were seeing someone.”
“Just like you didn’t mention you were seeing Tiffany?” I didn’t mean to say that. It sounded like I still cared, which I absolutely did not. I had no feelings left for Tiffany and very few for Leo. But how they were talking to Frankie made my temper flare. Tiffany was a shark in white lace, circling for blood.
The wait staff came to start removing plates. I took that as our cue to leave. I slid my hand under the heavy drape of Frankie’s hair, leaning over to whisper. “Ready to get out of here?”
She nodded, pushing back her chair.
My mother gave me a small smile as we left. I was debating just heading back to the room, telling Frankie to pack up and leaving.
But then that would defeat the entire purpose of being here. Which was not to prove I had lingering feelings for Tiffany.
No, I was here because of Frankie.
This wedding had given me the perfect opening to do what I’d wanted to do for the last six months.
Confess my feelings. Stake my claim.
Put Frankie in my bed.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Frankie
I looked at the embossed card containing the wedding activities and frowned. The rest of the afternoon was supposed to give the wedding guests time to enjoy themselves while the bride and groom got ready for the rehearsal dinner.
After the disastrous end to the brunch, Max had gone to spend a few minutes with his mother, telling me we’d go on a walk before dinner.
The rehearsal dinner. Another opportunity for Tiffany and her gang to impress upon me how I didn’t fit in.
I frowned thinking about what I’d packed. My clothes were considerably lacking when compared to the other guests, and the dress I’d brought for tonight was no different. I thought about going into the small boutique at the lodge and trying to find something else, but then I knew everyone would know what I’d done and there probably wouldn’t be anything in my size.
I’d made peace with my curves. Did I wish I was supermodel thin like most of the female guests here? That my hair didn’t frizz in the Montana humidity? That my hands weren’t quite so rough? You bet I did.
I’d gotten the job at the hardware store because I’d grown up with a father in the construction business and knew the difference between a flathead screwdriver and a Phillips, and Iwasn’t afraid of hard work. And the fact that the manager’s other hardware girl had gotten married and quit. He’d been a little desperate.
Max had told me to wait for him at the trailhead. As I made my way there, I glanced over at the lodge’s floor-to-ceiling glass windows. Inside, Tiffany and Max stood close together, talking. Immediately my thoughts went there, despite my best efforts.
Look at them, Frankie. He’s a Wilder. Rich and handsome despite making his home on the side of a mountain. And she’s the perfect foil for a man like him. Pretty and slim. Educated with manners.
I clenched my hands at my sides, pushing those dark thoughts away. I had no right to feel the jealousy surging through me. Yeah, the man had kissed me. Twice. I’d woken up with his arms wrapped around me, an obvious sign of desire pressing against my backside. But none of that meant anything. I was here because he’d needed my help.
He’d needed a fake date for his ex-girlfriend’s wedding.
“I’m here to help him, not destroy myself in the process,” I muttered, turning on my heel and hurrying away from the lodge.
I needed air. I needed to remind myself that when Monday came, I’d be back behind the counter, and he’d be back on his mountain. And what happened here would stay here, a beautiful, torturous memory I’d replay on lonely nights for the rest of my life.
Why had I agreed to this? Oh right, because I was an idiot who’d thought a weekend pretending to be Max Wilder’s girlfriend would be fun. I hadn’t counted on the part where I’d actually start to believe the fantasy. Where his touch would start to feel real. Where I’d look at him and think maybe, just maybe—
No. I shoved that thought down hard with the rest of them. Men like Max didn’t end up with women like me. Not in real life.Not when there were Tiffanys in the world. Beautiful, polished Tiffanys.
I’d been walking for twenty minutes or more, the silence finally drowning out the memory of Tiffany’s shrill voice and my own spiraling thoughts, when footsteps crunched on the trail behind me.
I turned, half-expecting Max.
