Fake Christmas Date (Fake to Real #7)

Chapter 1

EMMA

It’s a basic rule of fashion: better to be a little overdressed than underdressed. On the other hand, didn’t Coco Chanel always say to get completely dressed for an event, and then take off one thing?

Ugh. No matter which guideline you follow, I’m totally out of place.

Every time I see a police cruiser roll by the window, I worry it's the fashion police coming to get me. That would certainly be the cherry on top of a fantastic evening, wouldn’t it?

Tearing my eyes from my second cup of decaf, I look around at the other customers in Ray's Diner. A man with his broad back to me might be wearing a black button-down shirt, but I can’t really tell.

Everyone else is dressed extremely casually: jeans, hoodies, baseball caps.

Yes, the sweet old gentleman reading the paper is sporting a blazer…

but looking at how worn the brown corduroy is, it’s been in heavy rotation for decades.

The only person dressed crisply is Claudia, in her blue and white uniform.

She’s always such a chatty ray of sunshine; it’s comforting.

With no real friends yet here in Kingsville, I’ve been coming to Ray's Diner fairly frequently over the past few months.

I discovered it because it's conveniently close to my office, and sometimes I want a quiet spot to work late away from coworkers.

A few teenagers in the back leave, and after Claudia wipes down their table, she pauses in front of me. "You look really pretty with your hair up like that. And that dress is gorgeous."

My gaze drops for a second. "Thanks. It was hard to find one in a proper Christmas red."

"Well, it's a great color on you." Claudia cocks her head. “But I'm sure you didn't dress up so nicely just to cruise by for coffee. It's none of my business, of course, but if you need an ear…well, I'm right here."

The lump that’s been building in my throat for the past half hour grows.

My work stress isn't really a cheerful topic, so I tend to avoid it.

Instead, Claudia and I have chatted often about the courses she's taking in school, and how she loves working here just a few nights a week, and I've mostly stuck to tales about my new life in Kingsville, living alone without roommates for the first time, and how much I love the diner’s food.

“It's really not worth talking about." My voice is shaky. I've been so frustrated for so long that it’s becoming harder to hold back the tears.

When I look back up at her, Claudia examines my eyes. "Oh no – bad date?" she murmurs. "Because if you need help—"

I blink in surprise at the sudden movement directly behind her.

The guy sitting across the aisle in the maybe-a-button-down must have overheard us, since he has leapt to his feet.

He towers over Claudia. And holy geez…the size of his shoulders and back…

He's built like a tank. His dark scruff of beard makes him look tough and mysterious, which I find surprisingly appealing.

His deep eyes burn intensely into mine as he clears his throat. "If this is a bad date situation, just let me know what I can do." His voice is rough and gravelly. "If someone hurt you, I will kick his butt into next week—"

Claudia smiles, tapping him on the arm. "Stand down, Dylan.

" She turns to me with a grin. "Dylan's been coming here for ages.

Good guy. If you do need help, I would definitely let him assist you.

" A crowd of people come through the front door, so Claudia nods to me, excuses herself, and hurries back to the front.

"May I sit?" the huge man asks.

"Sure."

As he settles himself on the teal vinyl bench across from me, I take a good look at him. Wow. Every single detail about him begins to trigger…things. Long-ignored things that swirl deep in my lower belly and make my spine feel slightly electrified.

Physically, this man is the total poster boy for a lumberjack training camp. Huge, rugged, with large hands, thick forearms, and a square jaw. I’d guess that he’s in his early to mid thirties. And his deep, moss-green eyes feel like they're scanning my brain like a sci-fi x-ray machine.

I’d bet my boots that he’s the owner of the pickup truck out front.

"I'm okay. Really."

He arches an eyebrow. "If someone stood you up without even sending a text—"

"No. No, that's not it at all."

He shakes his head, then runs a hand through his thick, nearly black hair. "Let's start over.” He holds out his hand. "Dylan Cutler."

"Emma Gillis."

I love his grin, not to mention the way he holds my hand for a few seconds longer than necessary. "And tell me, Emma Gillis, where were you headed tonight that led you to seek refuge here at the diner instead?"

I sigh heavily, making him frown. "Ugh. It's so childish you're going to laugh at me."

"Probably not. Please, humor me?"

"Okay… Five months ago I started a job I really enjoy. It's probably boring to most people – categorizing and archiving specialized medical research – but for me it’s great. I can just be left alone in my office to do my thing, you know?"

He shrugs. "I've never worked in an office, but I get wanting to be left alone. Go on."

“There are five people on my team. My manager Natalie seems to like me. Two other women are pretty indifferent. They keep to themselves. And then there’s Lacey.

" I sigh deeply. "I have no idea why she hates me so much. But she does, and she’s hell-bent on getting the rest of the department to hate me too. "

"I already hate her," Dylan says with a cheeky smile. "And I rarely hate anyone."

I love that he knows nothing about these people but is already on my side. It feels good to have an ally…one with tree trunk arms that could probably lift this entire booth.

"Lacey made a huge deal about tonight's Christmas party. She’s going with her husband, and she was telling anyone who would listen that only people in serious relationships should be allowed to bring a date. Not just to keep the party numbers down to save money or anything. I don't know what her problem is, but she was saying that it’s only worth getting to know people’s partners if it’s a serious relationship.

She wouldn’t let it go." I shrug. “What I don’t get is that it’s a fundraiser – more people means more donations, right?

I dunno. Maybe she’s worried that somebody will show up with a guy who’s hotter than her husband. ”

"So… Your date flaked out on you?" Dylan asks.

"No." It takes everything I have to stop my bottom lip from quivering.

"I tried to get a date. Tried to find someone who wouldn't mind pretending that we'd been going out for at least a month or two. But I couldn’t." I hesitate. “And the thought of going there solo and having her judge me, pointing out that I’m totally alone in the world, it’s…unnerving.”

It’s getting harder to keep it together.

I am not going to cry in front of a stranger.

I’m just not. It's bad enough I'm babbling my life story to this poor man who is probably just listening to be polite. It’s one thing to want to protect a woman if she’s dealing with a bad date who turned out to be a creep.

This is just stupid work politics, and it’s embarrassing to admit how much the whole thing has been eating away at me.

My breath hitches as his warm palm settles across the back of my fingers for several seconds. He murmurs in that deep voice, "I'm going to go out on a limb here and guess that you were too shy to ask very many people, right?"

"How did you know?" I whisper.

"Emma. Will you please look at me?"

When I do, I feel like I'm falling. Having this man’s full attention on me is almost overwhelming.

"You are stunningly beautiful, and I can tell that you're a caring, thoughtful person.

Any man would be thrilled to go on a date with you.

Even if nothing ever came of it, and it was just a pleasant evening in your company.

" He leans back a bit. "Trust me on this one.

Every man I know would drop everything for one charming date with you. "

I shrug. "Wish I ran into you yesterday, I guess."

He glances at his watch. "When does the party start?"

"It already did. Almost half an hour ago."

Dylan slides his fingers underneath mine on the table and takes my hand. It's just a friendly gesture, but it feels… I don't know. Engaging? Hypnotic? Wild? Yes! That's it…wild. Like something caged inside me is dying to be let out to run free.

"I just picked up my suit from the cleaners and my dress shoes from being mended.

I could change here. May I please be your date tonight?

" When he grins, his eyes sparkle and I catch a glimpse of his perfect teeth.

"We can either ignore this Lacey bitch completely or find a way to make her face-plant into a cake or something. "

I burst out laughing, still enjoying the feel of his hand in mine. “I'm sorry… You don't look the type to be so catty."

"I usually keep that side to myself." His eyebrow raises. "But for you, I'm going to make an exception. Is that a yes?"

My breath catches. "Yes."

He jumps to his feet, dropping some money on the counter as he charges out to the parking lot. He returns momentarily with a suit and a shoulder bag, and passes me with a wink. "Ten minutes, max.”

Claudia comes over and places a cup of tea in front of me. “Peppermint,” she says smoothly. “Drink it quickly. Freshens your breath, and calms the stomach if you’re nervous.” Oh my. She must have overheard everything.

“Thank you.” As she turns to leave, I ask, “Wait. This whole having a stranger pretend to be my date thing. Is it going to blow up in my face?”

She shakes her head, sending her dark ponytail swishing halfway down her back as she flashes me a knowing grin. “No way, Emma. Trust me – this is going to work out.”