Chapter 4
VIOLET
“Afake wedding with my best friend’s brother?
” I hiss in disbelief as I watch Ross walk up to the counter and laugh at something Janey says.
Abi spilled out some hare-brained scheme faster than I would’ve thought she could, and now I have only seconds to disabuse her of this crazy notion before she calls him over.
“The king of all assholes? The guy who made my high school days a living hell, including putting a frog down my blouse in front of the whole football team? Are you crazy?”
“As a whore in church,” Archie quips.
“It’s perfect!” Abi squeals excitedly, ignoring the insult or my complaints. “Who else, besides Archie, knows you well enough to pull something like this off on short notice? And no offense, but no one’s going to believe you flipped Archie.”
He shrugs, knowing she’s right. “I don’t make a very good trade.
” He’s constantly having to explain his lingo to me, but that one I know.
A trade is a gay guy who can pass as straight because of his masculinity.
Actually, Archie could probably do that in his black jeans, random movie reference T-shirts, combat boots, multiple earrings, and tattoo sleeves.
If you only saw him posed against a graffitied wall, you’d think he was a badass punk rocker anarchist. Then he’d open his mouth and sarcastic bitchery would pour out in a tone that would make any gaydar sing like a canary.
Abi’s right. Archie’s not the man for this job.
Oh, my God, I’m actually considering this. I’ve lost my mind for sure. Hell, I’d even dismissed a fake wedding with Colin as pathetic.
But as she quickly talks about making Papa happy, having the wedding of my dreams, and then splitting later down the road with no muss, no fuss, it doesn’t sound quite as crazy—if the man knew the score from the get-go and was willing to go along and pretend.
But I’ve known Ross since I was a little girl, and he’s not exactly someone I picture as marriage material or being able to make a fake relationship believable.
He’s always treated me like I was one of his little sisters, teasing me and making fun of me.
Even when I grew up, his recognition of my adulthood never fully transitioned, and he still sometimes treats me like I’m the same little girl who used to look at him with cookie dough eyes in high school.
Okay, so I’ll admit now that some of my pranks were because I might’ve had the teeniest, tiniest crush on Ross.
But who didn’t? He was the big man on campus, hotter than any teenager had the right to be, and I’d soaked up any attention from him I could.
Except when he embarrassed me in front of the whole school.
It was complicated, a love-hate situation that was purely on my younger side.
All of that’s water under the bridge now, though, and we don’t see each other that often anymore so we’re not as close as we used to be.
And there’s the simple fact that he probably won’t want to do something as crazy as this.
“Doesn’t he have a girlfriend?” I ask, but Abi only notices that I didn’t say no and grins big and wide in a ‘gotcha’ look.
“You’re in luck. It was never serious, and he broke it off with her months ago.
Mom was devastated when she heard because she’s been wanting him to settle down for ages, so this is perfect.
Won’t she get a kick when she finds out Ross is marrying Violet Russo, the same little girl who was always over at our house for those insane sleepovers!
Though we’ll have to make sure the eventual breakup doesn’t paint either of you in a poor light.
I don’t want to mess up my own wedding with Mom thinking you’re some shrew who broke her baby boy’s heart. ”
She frowns after a moment, tapping her lip thoughtfully. “Hmm . . . Courtney might be a problem, though,” she mutters, mentioning her feisty younger sister. “But I can handle her if she tries to start trouble.”
Ugh. Why do I have such crazy friends?
But Abi has been the best friend a girl could have . . . despite the occasional bouts of insanity.
“And somehow, you think Ross would agree to something like this?” I demand.
“Sure, why not?” she says with a trademark Abi grin.
“I’m his oldest little sister. I should know.
Not to mention, he’s known you for years.
Hell, you’re almost just as much his sister as I am.
And you’ve also done stuff for him in the past, remember?
He’ll have no choice but to agree to our little scheme once we get done with him. ”
“Our little scheme? We?” I ask, still reeling in shock. “I never said I was doing this.”
Abi smirks. “Sure, you are. I can see it in your eyes.”
I shake my head vehemently. “Forget it. It won’t work. Besides, we’d end up killing each other before ever making it to the altar.”
“Nonsense,” Abi says, waving her hand at Ross to get his attention. “Yoo-hoo, Rossy. We’re over here.”
Ross looks our way and smiles. Then he says something to Janey and moves around the counter, making his way over to us.
Even his walk is sexy, confident, and graceful.
All things I’m definitely not. I swallow, wishing I could just disappear underneath one of the boutique tables.
Or into the center of the Earth to burn up and not have to deal with any of this mess.
Fuck me . . . he’s an asshole, but he’s a hot asshole. Why are the bad ones always so pretty on the outside?
“Hey, Abs. Hello, Violet.”
I school my face before my thoughts betray me.
Jesus, I always forget how deep his voice is.
And embarrassingly, I imagine what that rumble would feel like against my skin.
Once upon a time, I had foolish dreams of Ross being my first kiss.
My fantasies now involve a lot more than just kissing, that’s for damn sure.
But I’ve never imagined Ross as that fantasy man . . . until now.
I look up to see Ross standing over me, a fresh batch of stubble shading his chiseled jawline. He’s even more impressive close up, looking like he’s had a hard day’s work, his dress shirt partially opened at the front, his hair slightly disheveled.
How does he manage to look like such an arrogant bastard and so damn handsome all at the same time?
The thought comes from an alien place in my mind, and I dismiss it as my being high-strung in the moment. The days of my crushing on Ross Andrews are long gone.
“What? I don’t get a ‘hi’ too?” Archie pouts. But I can feel his eyes watching the interaction between Ross and me with new interest.
“Hello, Ross,” I reply cordially, ignoring Archie’s lame attempt for attention. “Nice to see you.”
“It’s nice to see you too, Chickie. How’ve you been?”
Ugh. Remind me why I always want to slap you, why don’t you?
I used to have chicken legs when I was in middle school, legit pencils attached to a hinge.
Ross used to tease me about them relentlessly to the point that I spent a whole summer exercising my ass on in order to stop the jokes.
And while it stopped all of his chuckleheaded buddies from doing it, Ross still references that first taunt from time to time.
I think it’s partly out of habit and partly to annoy me.
“I’m just fine,” I say through gritted teeth, biting down on the urge to call him Dumb Ogre, my favorite nickname for him growing up. It’s weak, but my middle school brain hadn’t been capable of much more than a typical dumb jock joke to bestow a nickname on him. “You?”
Ross grins, noting my irritation. “Peachy.” He looks past me to the stacks of peach-colored cardstock.
Abigail gestures at the table. “I just got done making these invitations for Violet’s wedding. Aren’t they beautiful?”
“Amazing,” Ross says, barely giving the invitations a lookover, instead looking over at me. “How’s the engagement coming along, Vi?”
I’m not sure, but I think I detect an undercurrent of intensity to his words.
“Uh . . . um . . . it’s going . . . okay,” I say, not having the guts to tell him I was dumped. But Ross always leaves me this way, with the verbal IQ of a potato when I need to be on my A game around him.
Very frustrating.
Ross’s expression is unreadable. “Really? So, you guys have it all figured out?”
Great . . . trapped. I have no idea where to go with this one. “Um we’re sort . . . of working on it . . . but I—”
“Have something to ask you,” Abi finishes for me cheerfully, elbowing me sharply in the side.
I shoot her murderous look. “Uh, no, I don’t.”
“Uh, yes, you do,” she mimics back.
Ross looks back and forth between us, frowning. “I’m confused.”
“Nothing to worry your pretty little head about,” Archie interjects, bumping Ross’s shoulder in a move that would scream ‘bro’ if anyone but him did it, but I can see it for the flirtation it is and I can’t help but grin a little.
Archie’s on my side in the ongoing war with Ross and does what he can to set Ross off-kilter.
“Bitches be crazy.” He says it solemnly, like it’s some great insight shared between the males of the human species.
“Of course, there’s one way to mitigate their impact .
. .” He trails off pointedly, his subtlety that of a rampaging wildebeest.
“Vi needs you to marry—ow!” Abi exclaims as I stomp on her foot.
Ross gives us a look like we’re all crazy. “The hell’s going on over here?”
“Nothing. Didn’t you say you needed Ross to stop by for something?” I ask pointedly, glaring murder at Abi.
“Oh, yeah, our parents’ anniversary gift. This way, Ross.”
Abi takes her brother off to the side where there’s a beautiful multi-colored bouquet of flowers sitting on the table, handing him a pen to sign a card.
When he’s done signing, they talk for a moment, but I’m close enough to hear that it’s not about Abi trying to set up her crazy plan but rather just family drama with the company, before they return.