Wild Ride Rancher - Page 66

It wasn’t enough to have a cardboard stand-in by her side, no, no. Andy needed to impress. Ideally her date could thwart those sorts of comments before they started.

Sadly, as impressive as Christopher believed he was, he wouldn’t cut it as a proper wedding date.

Still. He was all she had. Time to get real.

“Christopher. I selected your profile because I need a date for my sister’s wedding. The gig is three nights, four days in amazing and luxurious Crown, Ohio. Your airfare will be covered and your hotel room will be separate, but also covered. You will be tasked with being my date, pretending to find everything I say amusing, and impressing my mother and father. You’re skilled at bragging about how great you are but I will also need you to recognize that I’m in the room if we have any hope of pulling this off. Are you up for the mission I’ve presented you, or do you want to call it a night?”

He watched her carefully, an uncertain look on his face. “Are you—You’re serious.”

“As a heart attack. Which I hear you know a lot about.”

“You want me to pretend to be your boyfriend.”

“Yes.”

“At a wedding.”

“Yes.”

He leaned forward and squinted one eye, his lips pursing as if deciding if the trip to Ohio would be worth his time, energy and effort.

Andy’s palms were sweating. Not because she was excited by the doctor, but because her search might finally be over.

Then the idiot blurted, “Do we at least get to fuck?”

Yeah. They were so done.

“Good night, Christopher. I’ll take care of the check.”

“Wait, Andy—”

She tossed twenty bucks on the table to cover their drinks and marched to the ladies’ room. The money would cover the single drink they’d each had and then she could go home and—

And what?

She was flat out of solutions. She had no close guy friends she could ask. Hell, she had no close girlfriends who might help her make a plan. What she had was money and prestige.

Just the thought of showing up at Gwen’s wedding alone pissed her off. She refused to fail. It wasn’t in her nature. Plus there was one other itty-bitty reason why showing up with a date was preferable.

One of her ex-boyfriends had been invited. She’d stooped low enough to call, which was bad enough, but then she learned that he was dating Gwen’s best friend who was in the wedding. So that was gross.

Matthew Higgins had greeted her like no time had passed since they parted. Well, well, well. If it isn’t her royal highness.

The Ice Queen. That was her.

Thank God she hadn’t asked him to be her date. She’d played it off like she’d simply thought of him out of the blue and wanted to “catch up” and then ended the call before she died of humiliation.

At the double sink, she dug through her purse for her lip gloss, which evidently she’d neglected to pack in her clutch. She sighed in defeat. It’d been a long month.

A long life.

Around the time she’d dated Matt, she’d been sure she’d wind up marrying eventually. Until he repeatedly teased her about her lack of warmth. She wasn’t enough for him, and as much as she wished she could refute that, she’d also seen evidence in her family of what she was lacking. She wasn’t as bubbly as Gwen. She wasn’t as bold as Kelli. She wasn’t as stylish as Ness. She wasn’t as athletic as Carroll. As one of five girls in the Payne family, Andy was the unofficial black sheep. She’d just as soon not draw even more attention to their differences by becoming the last single one. Yet here she was.

For all the confidence and kick-ass-ness she possessed at work, she didn’t want to be singled out or excluded from couples’ activities.

Plus, nothing chapped her ass more than giving up.

She peeked out of a crack in the swinging door of the ladies’ restroom to watch Christopher exit the bar. Thank God. Also, her twenty was still on the table, which was a plus. The last guy had taken her money and left, and she’d had to pay the waitress again.

There were no good men left in this city.

In the world.

“I can’t catch another bouquet without a date,” she whispered to herself. As humiliating as it was to catch the blasted thing—that her sisters always aimed her way—nothing was more humiliating than returning to the table with the flowers in hand and no date in sight. Guests always looked on in pity, as if she was going to die alone.

Tags: Maureen Child Western
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