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Somehow, the angrier and bossier he gets, the more raw emotion carves his face.
Handsome lines and power ripple like live currents in the tense lines of his body as he assesses, drives battle decisions in a split second, and gathers his assets to draw blood in the most lethal, efficient way possible.
A little awe inspiring, if I’m being honest.
It’s also made me realize just how little I’ll ever fit into his high-stakes world.
This sham engagement really is a side game to him, and I’m sure it’ll be the biggest relief when it’s over.
Heck, I don’t think he even noticed when I left, after Debra remembered I was there and apologized, smiled, and called Rick to drive me home.
I’m not a part of August’s real life.
I’m a freaking prop with some awesome benefits.
Even when I went off alone to get the dress adjusted, Angelique didn’t bat an eye over the fact that he wasn’t with me.
Typical rich guy’s woman stuff in an atypical rich guy’s world.
So, why the hell haven’t I been able to stop thinking about him for even a second?
“You’re moping, dear,” Gran says from across the dining room table.
“I promise you I’m not, Gran,” I lie firmly.
I look up from the puzzle piece I’ve been turning over in my hand, pondering it without really seeing it, then offer it to her.
She’s putting together a thousand-piece puzzle of blooming hollyhocks. It’s one of the many things that keep her busy so she doesn’t go stir crazy from not being able to spend as much time outdoors with her plants.
“Eleanor Lark. Haven’t I known you since the day they cut your umbilical cord?” She gives me a knowing look over the rims of her glasses, then plucks the puzzle piece from my fingers. “Stop moping and call that grumbly young man right this instant.”
As if.
I refuse to look at her.
I only have August’s number because Debra hastily tucked his business card in my pocket before I was ushered out the door that fateful day.
“Let’s say I do. I pick up the phone, I call, I pester him, and what then?” I prop my chin in my hands, waiting for her wisdom. “Say, ‘Hey, casual business partner paying me to be his fake fiancée, missed you really hard. You’re kinda weird and grumpy, but I have a lot of fun poking you. Wanna talk for no reason at all?’”
She gives me the patient look only saintly grandmothers can, then inspects the bright-pink puzzle piece and sets it aside in a pile of other pink pieces.
“That’s a sensible start. It’s honest.” She picks up a green-and-yellow piece, studying it a bit too deliberately. “He is a handsome young man, you know.”
Holy hell, I can’t.
I stick my tongue out.
I know what she’s trying to suggest, but it’s not going to work.
“Did you miss the part where he’s not the least bit interested in me, Gran?”
“Ever the pessimist! What makes you so sure of that, Elle?” She smiles with mock innocence and works the piece in. She’s making her way from the outside toward the center, the border already assembled in a rectangle.
My jaw drops.
I try to dredge up an answer, but the words won’t come.
She’s got me good.
