The Wedding Wrecker

9. Emma

9

EMMA

T he resort's lounge was lit by fancy sconces and warm lighting, making the snow-covered mountains out the many windows the perfect backdrop. It was all timber beams, stone fireplaces, and animal furs draped over comfortable couches and chairs. The kind of place that made you want to curl up with hot cocoa and pretend you were in a Hallmark movie.

If this was my Hallmark movie, though, I would be here with the divorced bartender who was a father of two adorable, rascal kids. They’d call me aunt Emma, and my plaid-shirt-wearing bartender would fall for me when I read them bedtime stories one night. Oh, and we’d have sex in a hot tub, but none of the usual underwater logistical concerns would apply. It’d just be great.

But this wasn’t a Hallmark movie.

Because I was curled up against James and resentfully pretending the two of us were in the early weeks of a new, budding relationship and sickeningly in love. Because if the wedding planner wasn’t happy in her relationship, how the hell could you trust her to handle your big day? And if we weren’t in a relationship, I just lied to Mr. Wellington’s face while making my first impression.

So, yeah. I was completely, thoroughly, infuriatingly stuck playing along with this fake relationship.

James had his arm draped casually over my shoulders as we listened to Richard and one of his friends talk business. I was currently stiff as a board with anxious nerves. So far, the “gathering” was only people I didn’t really know—people who had no reason to be shocked to find me cuddled up with a gorgeous man.

But my mom and Lilly were at the hotel bar grabbing drinks, and they hadn’t spotted us yet. What the hell was I going to say to explain this?

Oh, hi Lily. Silly me. Did I forget to mention I’m dating a male model? Yeah, it’s so like me to just not ever say a word about that and have the guy show up at your wedding!

I sank a little lower into the chair, which had the unintended side effect of making me curl closer to James. Big, stupid “wedding wrecker” with his big, stupid, muscles…

Why couldn’t he smell bad or be repulsive? That would’ve made this a lot easier. This was like being served a perfectly cooked five-course meal by my worst enemy.

Every so often, his thumb would trace small circles on my arm, sending unwanted shivers down my spine.

Rule number one? Already broken. Fantastic.

And then the moment came. Lily spotted us as she was walking over with her head turned toward our mom. My little sister froze, eyes going wide as she let out a squeal. “What in the actual fuck? Who is this? What is this? I need to know everything. Shower me in details and spare none!” She nearly dropped her fruity cocktail in her hurry to sit beside us. She also didn’t seem to mind that her outburst had interrupted Richard’s talk.

Both older men were now watching us with renewed interest.

Oh, nothing to see here, old rich guys. The fact that my own sister didn’t know about this doesn’t make our relationship suspicious at all.

“Uh, yeah,” I said, sitting up and trying to shrug James’ arm off me with a subtle gesture. He either didn’t take the hint or didn’t care. He just gave me a little squeeze and smiled.

"So?" Lily asked, practically bouncing in her seat as Marcus and a few other members of his family arrived. I spotted Aunt Martha as well.

Hope you’re enjoying the views from my former room, Aunt Martha…

My sister had always been a romantic, but her excitement about my supposed relationship was bordering on manic. “Well?” Lily asked, not even turning to look at Marcus as he sat between her and my mom.

My mom was watching the two of us with a very keen expression—the kind that said she knew exactly who James was and was also wondering what in the holy hell was going on. Except my mom’s curiosity had even more ammunition than my sister’s. After all, she’d probably hired this guy to wreck Lily’s wedding. So what the hell was I doing with his arm around me?

Nearly a dozen pairs of eyes were all on us now, making me feel like I might just burn up in a poof of embarrassment, never to be seen again. Actually, I thought I’d take that fate if somebody offered it to me right in that moment. Better than sitting here and trying to explain this.

"Well," I started, having no idea where I was going with that sentence.

"I ran into her at a coffee shop," James cut in smoothly. "Literally ran into her. Spilled her drink all over both of us."

I dug my nails into his thigh. He didn't even flinch.

"She was furious," he continued, smiling down at me with a warmth that felt disturbingly real. "But I convinced her to let me buy her a replacement. And then dinner. And then?—"

"And then he wouldn't leave me alone," I finished, keeping my voice sweet while squeezing his leg harder.

"If he does leave you alone, let me know," Dick cut in from across the room. "I’d be happy to show you around the resort. Give you the… insider perspective ."

I hadn’t noticed Dick, but the sound of his voice and creepy eyebrow wiggles was already making me feel nauseous.

I felt James tense beside me. "You’ll have to keep dreaming," he said. I thought the words were meant to be light and dismissive, but I didn’t miss the edge in his tone. It seemed to say one more word and I’ll punch you in the face, asshole.

Fake or not, I had to admit I appreciated having James to shut Dick down for me. At least I wouldn’t need to worry about unwanted advances while this farce played out.

Lily sighed dreamily. "You two are so cute together. Aren't they cute?" She turned to Marcus, who was focused on his phone. "Babe?"

"Hmm? Oh, yeah. Adorable."

I caught my mother still watching us from across the room, her expression unreadable. When our eyes met, she quickly looked away.

"Anyone want another drink?" James asked, standing. His absence left me feeling oddly cold. "Emma?"

"Please," I said, hoping for something strong enough to make me forget I had to share a bed with him later.

As he headed to the bar and the rest of the guests got distracted with a conversation about business, Lily leaned in close. "Okay, spill. How is he in bed? Because those hands look like they know what they're doing."

"Lily!" I hissed, grateful James was out of earshot. Though my traitorous mind immediately flashed to exactly how good those hands were.

"What? I'm engaged, not dead. I can root for my big sister to get some satisfaction, can’t I?”

“Use your imagination,” I said.

“Already there,” Lily said with a smirk.

I couldn’t help smiling as I whacked her arm. “Behave,” I laughed softly.

James returned with our drinks just as Richard started telling some story about his college days. I was only half listening, too aware of James settling back beside me, his thigh pressed against mine.

"Cold?" he whispered when I shivered.

"I'm fine."

He pulled me closer anyway, his scent and presence making my head spin. Or maybe that was the alcohol.

The night stretched on, a blur of fake smiles and careful touches and stories we made up about our relationship. James was surprisingly good at weaving truth with fiction—like how he claimed our first kiss was in a wine cellar.

Every time his stories skipped across the truth, I felt the confusing blur of our lie mingling with truth. By the end of the night, I had to keep pinching myself to remember this was fake. We were just playing the part—selling the lie.

Finally, people started drifting off to bed. My mother left without saying goodbye, but I caught her watching us again as she went.

"Ready to turn in, sweetheart?" James asked, his voice carrying just enough for others to hear. “We should get you to bed before you get too tired. You know how you snore when you stay up too late.”

What?

I forced a smile, wincing at the amused and confused expressions of the others watching me. “Yep,” I managed in a small voice. “Wouldn’t want to snore tonight! We should get going.”

James wore a shit-eating smile as we walked out of view. As soon as we were alone, I punched him hard on the arm. “What was that for?” I demanded. “And is that even a thing? Snoring because you’re tired?”

“No idea,” he said. “But it was funny. And it’s the kind of weird detail real couples know about each other. I’m just trying to make sure nobody has any reason to doubt how deeply in love we are.”

I thought about arguing more, but I frankly didn’t trust myself to speak anymore. The reality of our sleeping arrangement was starting to sink in.

The elevator ride was silent. So was the walk down the hall. James opened our door.

I stared at the bed like it was a snake. At first, I’d been nervous about this, but the truth hadn’t fully hit. Was I really going to sleep next to him? What if he tried something? What if I let him?

"Are you alright, Em?” James asked as his hand easily slid across my lower back.

“Rule number one,” I muttered.

James let his hand fall, features dancing with amusement. “Right. I forgot for a moment.”

“And don’t call me pet names when we’re alone.”

“You’d prefer I use your full, proper name, then?” he asked.

“Yes…”

“Alright, Emma… ”

I swallowed hard. How the hell did he make my goddamn name sound so erotic? Just hearing it on his mouth made me feel like he’d slipped the strap of my dress down and pressed his lips to my neck, like?—

I cleared my throat. "I'm going to change."

The bathroom was tiny, because of course it was. I changed into my pajamas—silk shorts and a matching camisole that suddenly felt way too revealing—and tried to give myself a pep talk in the mirror.

It's fine. You're fine. It's just one night. With the man who broke your heart. In a bed. Sharing a pillow.

When I’d finished my nighttime routine and emerged, James had changed into sleep pants and nothing else. Because apparently the universe hated me. Despite trying very hard not to look, my eyes skidded across everything, burning the image into my mind where it might never fade.

A dusting of chest hair on a broad, defined chest. Sharp rows of abs, arms that looked good enough to lick, and… well, his sleep pants were thin gray material. They did almost nothing to hide the shape of his package, which?—

I jerked my eyes up. “Would it be too much to ask for you to wear a shirt?”

“If you want me to toss and turn all night, I can. I was being kind by wearing pants. I usually don’t.”

“What do you usually wear?” I asked, even though I knew I shouldn’t.

James’ lips twitched. “Nothing. I get hot at night, so I usually sleep in the nude.”

Of course he does.

“I like your little sleep suit,” he said, gesturing. “Looks comfortable. But cold,” he added, eyes lingering on my chest.

I folded my arms, realizing my nipples had gone hard after seeing his shirt off and those freaking pants that were thin and partially see-through. I could actually see the full shape of his toned legs outlined by the moonlight coming in through the window, and even…

Nope. Nope.

I rushed into bed and pulled the comforter up to my neck.

“Good night,” I said with my back to him.

“Night, Emma,” he said, and he did that damn thing with my name again that made me feel like his hands were all over my body.

I shivered, pulling the comforter tighter as I heard the bathroom door shut and the water start to run.

When he returned to bed, he smelled fresh and minty—maybe the scent of his toothpaste or mouthwash. He slid under the blankets and I immediately felt his warmth radiating outward. It was impossible not to think about his body so close to mine—to think how nice it would feel for him to wrap his arms around me, especially since this room was freezing.

I curled in a little tighter, trying to gather some warmth from the blankets, but they seemed to hold the cold, making it impossible to warm up.

I lay there willing myself not to shiver.

Sleep seemed impossible. Especially when he shifted and some part of him brushed against my ass.

"Sorry," he murmured.

"Rule number one and two," I reminded him, but my voice sounded breathless even to my own ears.

"Right." He moved away slightly. "The rules."

I lay there in the dark, listening to his breathing, remembering another night when we'd been much closer. When his hands had?—

No. Not going there.

"Emma?"

"What?"

"I really am sorry. About Ireland."

I squeezed my eyes shut. "Rule number three."

He fell silent. But I could feel him there, solid and warm and far too close.

How the hell was I going to survive this? Evenings full of touching and cuddling to play the happy couple, and nights like this? I had half a mind to roll over and kiss him—to tell him to fuck me right now so we could just get this awkward, annoying tension out of the way.

I bit my lip, pressing my thighs together as I tried to squeeze my eyes shut.

No. There was absolutely no reality where I was going to let James “the wedding wrecker” Carter fuck me. Even if…

Nope.

I folded my arms, curling into an even smaller ball, as if I could maybe just compress myself into nothing and evaporate out of this whole situation.

To take my mind off his tantalizing proximity, I forced myself to think about all the important details of the coming days. Floral deliveries, meetings with staff to make sure events were going smoothly, and all the fun excursions I’d planned for the wedding party to enjoy in the days leading up to the wedding.

The distraction was working until I realized all those fun excursions were now going to be filled with James and pretending to be madly in love with him.

He rolled over to his side and I felt what I was almost certain was his ass lightly pressing against my back.

Oh God.

I opened my mouth to tell him to move it, but I couldn’t find the words.

Instead, I squeezed my eyes shut tighter and lay there wondering what I had done in a previous life to deserve this kind of perfect torture.