One Fake Fiance - Jennifer Youngblood Page 0,30

she spoke. “Magnolia, you said you were going to visit your grandfather. I take it you’re from Asheville?” She looked at Lucas. “Are you also from Asheville?”

“I’m from Franklin, Tennessee,” Lucas answered, “right outside of Nashville.”

Magnolia spoke up. “I’m from New Orleans. My grandfather lives in Asheville. That’s why we’re having the wedding there.”

“What’s your grandfather’s name?” Lillian asked. “I know a lot of people in Asheville.”

“Benjamin Bentley.”

“I know Benjamin well,” Lillian answered with a gush of pleasure. “He and my late husband Howard were close business associates and friends.” She laughed. “Wow, it’s a small world.”

Lucas’s jaw dropped. He looked back at Magnolia. She was also stunned. His brain connected the dots. If Lillian’s husband ran in the same circles as Magnolia’s grandfather, then Lillian was undoubtably wealthy. One certainly wouldn’t have gathered that from looking at her. When she removed the hood from her head, Lucas realized she was wearing dangly earrings in the shape of Christmas presents. Everything about Lillian was over-the-top. She might’ve been an attractive woman had her makeup and hair not been so glaring.

Lillian put her hands together. “It’s settled. You guys are staying at the inn tonight.”

“But my grandfather’s expecting us tonight,” Magnolia objected.

“I’m sure Benjamin will understand. He wouldn’t want you out in bad weather. If need be, I can call Benjamin and explain the situation, tell him all about you and Lucas’s heroic actions in saving me and Sam.”

Magnolia’s voice pitched high. “You’d do that for us?”

Lillian’s answer was immediate. “Of course.”

“Thank you,” Magnolia said, sounding genuinely touched. “That would be wonderful. You know,” she mused, “I think Lucas and I should take you up on your offer.” Her voice warmed with a smile. “We would welcome the opportunity to stay at your inn for the night, won’t we Lucas?”

He shrugged. “Sounds good to me.” Anything to keep from driving in these treacherous conditions.

7

Magnolia let out a high-pitched cackle as she spun around. “We can’t stay here! In this—” she threw her hands up “—in this atrocity. The town of Remember, the outside of the inn, the lobby, and common areas are all so quaint. But this … it’s like something out of a freak show!” Her eyes swept over the wallpaper, splattered with hearts of all colors and sizes.

Lucas pointed. “I dunno. The cupid statue is kind of growing on me.” The corners of his lips twitched as he sniggered.

Magnolia’s eyes rounded as she looked at the white ceramic statue, dusted with red glitter. A plump, baby-faced cupid wore a cherubic smile as he cradled his bow, the tip of his arrow pointing up. Magnolia’s shoulders shook, mirth building inside her until she could no longer hold it. She burst out laughing. They both laughed long and hard, dissolving some of the strain from the day.

When the laughter died down, Magnolia mopped her eyes. “You know, in all my twenty-six—almost twenty-seven years—I’ve never before seen a heart-shaped bed.” Her head swung back and forth as she pursed her lips. “That’s something.” She was keenly aware that she was alone in the honeymoon suite with Lucas. The enormous, plush bed was a reminder of their impending marriage and all that it would require. Desire spun a twist of ribbons in her stomach. Was it wrong to be excited about marrying Lucas? For so long, she’d been concerned about her lack of devotion to Roman. She’d been fond of him, yes, but he’d never evoked any type of strong emotion within her—be it good or bad. Lucas, on the other hand. Well, all he had to do was walk in the room and the emotion was there, sizzling like a live wire.

A mischievous grin tugged at Lucas’s lips. “So, who gets the bed?” He gave her a lingering look. The smolder in his eyes warmed her blood. His deep blue, button-down shirt brought out the blue in his eyes. Also, it molded well to his abs of steel and his well-defined pecs. She took in his jeans, which showcased his long legs. His cowboy boots had been replaced by mid-tone brown Doc Martens. She actually missed his cowboy boots. They were so intrinsic with his personality. She tore her eyes away from his physique, mortified that she’d been ogling him. “I suppose we could share it. Maybe stack pillows in between us to keep everything prim and proper.”

Heat flamed her cheeks. She didn’t need to look in the mirror to know that they were as bright as the crimson bedspread. “You can