AllFreeNovel
Share Us
The man with a name that fully embodied his entire appeal. Smooth. Suave. And as swoon worthy as any man I’d ever read about in the pages of my books.
But it didn’t matter because Beau didn’t look at me like that. I was sure of it. He’d had plenty of opportunities in the year I’d known him to make a move if he did.
Ms. Hattie looked up at the massive white mansion and sighed. “All right, my work here is done, and it’s almost go-time. I’m gonna head back to the shop to get things ready for tonight’s event. See you in a few hours for round two.”
I gave her a wave and started to reply, but then my eyes landed on a familiar cherry-red coupe as it pulled onto the circular drive and my heartbeat stuttered painfully in my chest.
Ms. Hattie slid her gaze over to me conspiratorially. “Oh, look, it’s the real reason you won’t do more than save a dance for my son.”
Without even giving me a chance to deny it, she made a little noise to suggest she was pleased with herself and went on her way.
Frozen in place, I watched as Beau gracefully exited the car and rounded the hood, looking like a full-on snack in a white button-down shirt and crisp khaki slacks. His chocolate belt matched his shoes—as it always did, no matter the color. The man practicallyoozedstyle.
When he looked up and his hazel eyes met mine, a lump formed in my throat. Oh, how this guy could knot me up from the inside with only a look. He offered me a tentative smile before moving quickly to the passenger door of his car, then he opened it to reveal a beautiful older woman wearing a peach dress with a matching shawl. She slipped her hand in his and allowed him to help her out of the car, then held up a finger to him as she dug her ringing phone out of her purse.
I watched as the woman stepped away to answer it, then my gaze flicked back to Beau. He handed the valet his keys with a nod of thanks, then tucked one hand in a pocket as he loped up the stairs.
Right toward me.
Shaking my head, I managed a smile only half a second later than I probably should have. “Hey, Beau.”
“Hey, Lyndi. How are you?”
“Well, thanks.” I glanced at the woman still talking on the phone, her shoulders bunched up in a defensive posture as she gestured with her hand while she spoke. “Is that your wedding date for the brunch?”
Not only was Beau an active-duty Marine stationed at nearby Parris Island Recruit Depot, but he also had a side-gig where he traveled up the Eastern Seaboard on weekends to attend weddings as a plus-one-for-hire. He called the business Mr. Fake Date and even had an app developed for women to book his services.
One corner of his glorious mouth lifted. “She’s myclient, yes.”
The strong emphasis he’d used on the wordclientcaused my brow to quirk involuntarily. “Isn’t that what I said?”
“No,” he replied with a chuckle. “They hire me as their wedding date, but to me, they’re clients. Not dates.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “Seems a little like splitting hairs to me, but you do you, boo.”
He laughed breezily, the light sound causing my heart to stutter a little. “Anyway, yes, she’s my client. Mother of the bride.”
“Interesting.”
The woman looked to be in her sixties, and even though I’d been shocked the first time I’d seen Beau at a wedding with a woman of her age, I was used to it now. Beau’s clients came in all ages, shapes, sizes, and whatever other classification you could think of.
It seemed like no one—no matter how attractive or delightful or effervescent—was beyond hiring this man to pretend to be her date if there was a good enough reason for it. And standing off on the sidelines while Beau accompanied these women had shown me theyalwayshad a good reason.
I wanted more information, my curiosity feeling like fingers scratching inside my brain. But I didn’t bother asking. Beau had a rule about maintaining his clients’ secrets. He valued privacy and was a master at keeping up the charade in front of the other wedding guests.
I found it to be almost honorable—the way he never outed his dates to other women who daringly flirted with him even though they knew he was there with someone else.Almosthonorable because his entire purpose for being there was a lie.
But it didn’t matter. He didn’t need to betray his clients’ confidence. I had a thing for puzzles and figuring out the behind-the-scenes drama that caused someone to hire Beau was kind of fun for me.
As a photographer, I was insanely good at reading people. I observed from afar, camera in hand, able to find patterns and stories even without being explicitly told anything.
It was in the way people looked at each other when they thought no one was watching. It was in their body language or the subtext behind their words. I loved capturing moments shared between people that would have otherwise faded into oblivion.
And yes, I knew how stalkerish that sounded, but hey—at least turning it into a career made it a little less creepy. Right?
“Today should be fun,” he said, watching his client over my shoulder. “Are you working both weddings?”
“Areyou?” I asked, my head pulling back like someone had tied a string to the back of it and tugged.
