They give new meaning to

Fake it until you make it

When a bride falls from a window onto bar owner Jack Wright, he sees it as a sign from above! But event planner Emerson Dewitt is nobody’s bride—much to her society mother’s perpetual disappointment. Then Jack proposes...an arrangement. He’ll pose as Emerson’s boyfriend in exchange for her help relaunching his business. It’s a perfect marriage...er, partnership. Until all that fake dating turns into some very real feelings...

Award-winning romance author KERRI CARPENTER writes contemporary romances that are sweet, sexy and sparkly. When she’s not writing, Kerri enjoys reading, cooking, watching movies, taking Zumba classes, rooting for Pittsburgh sports teams and anything sparkly. Kerri lives in northern Virginia with her adorable (and mis-chievous) rescued poodle mix, Harry. Visit Kerri at her website, kerricarpenter.com, on Facebook (Facebook.com/authorkerri), Twitter and Instagram (@authorkerri), or subscribe to her newsletter.

Also by Kerri Carpenter

Falling for the Right Brother

Bidding on the Bachelor Bayside’s

Most Unexpected Bride

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk

The Dating Arrangement

Kerri Carpenter

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-09132-9

THE DATING ARRANGEMENT

© 2019 Kerri Carpenter

Published in Great Britain 2019

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

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Version: 2020-03-02

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For John, my happy ending

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Note to Readers

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Extract

About the Publisher

Chapter One

“I’m getting married.”

Jack Wright nodded his head in response. Three things had brought him to this conclusion. Number one, she was carrying a stack of bridal magazines. Number two, she was wearing a rock on her ring finger that was so large, he had to wonder if it needed its own zip code.

But the truly telling sign was the fact that she had mentioned it no less than ten times in the five minutes she’d been talking to him in The Wright Drink, his dad’s bar.

My bar.

Jack silently admonished himself. He now owned the bar and had to start acting like an entrepreneur. First order of business—dealing with the bride-to-be.

“Ms. Mitchell,” he began.

“Soon to be Mrs. Cross,” she added brightly, clutching the magazines to her light pink dress. “But please call me Trina.”

“Right. Trina. I still don’t see how I can help you.”

“My fiancé, Nick, and I met here a little over a year ago. Right over there, at the jukebox.” She gestured in that direction, with a dreamy expression on her face.

“So you’d like to have your wedding here?”

The look of horror that flashed onto her face was so severe, you would have thought he’d suggested she get married in a maximum-security prison.

“I’d actually like to have my bachelorette party here. And Nick, my fiancé, wants to start his bachelor-party night here, as well.”

While he’d attended his fair share of bachelor shindigs, he knew next to nothing about bachelorette parties. Jack pushed a hand through his dark hair and glanced around the gloomy, dank, unappealing bar. The gloomy, dank, unappealing bar that he now owned.

As if reading his mind, Trina blushed. “Although, I hope you don’t mind me saying, this place seems a bit, um, different than when Nick and I met here.”

What a polite way of saying it was a dump.

He sighed. “Well, my dad recently passed away.”

“I’m so sorry,” Trina said with true sincerity.

“The bar was left to me and it’s hit a rough spot. I’m not sure that hosting a party—of any kind—is the best idea at the moment.”

Trina’s eyes widened. “Oh please don’t say that. How about this? Why don’t you think about it? I’ll leave my cell number and you can give me a call.” She grabbed a napkin from the bar, scribbled her number and handed it over.

Jack took the flimsy paper gingerly. He knew he needed to be frank with her.

“Trina, since you’ve mentioned it, I know how the bar looks now. I have to wonder why you’re still so interested in having these parties here when you could go to a much nicer place.”

“Because this place is special to us,” she said simply.

Something about the statement clenched at Jack’s heart and he had to take a deep, steadying breath. The place meant something to her. Shouldn’t he feel the same way?

He couldn’t reply, so he nodded his head again. A smile blossomed on Trina’s face. “Okay, just think about it. If I don’t hear from you in a week, I’ll follow up. Plenty of other wedding plans to keep me busy in the meantime.”

He’d have to take her word for it, since he was hardly any kind of wedding aficionado.

“Talk to you soon,” she said before flouncing out the front door.

Since the bar wasn’t open for business yet, Jack flipped the lock. Not that customers would be clambering to get in when he did open the doors for happy hour. Aside from the engaged Ms. Mitchell, soon to be Mrs. Cross, interest in The Wright Drink lay only with a handful of regulars who had been frequenting the place since Jack was a child.

Not for the first time today, his fingers twitched as he reached for the MIA pack of cigarettes he gave up six months ago.

He walked to the back of the room and glanced at the pile of bills spread across the long, wooden bar in front of him. Jack cracked his knuckles. He probably needed reading glasses. Just like his old man had worn.

His old man.

Jack still couldn’t believe he was gone. While he knew his dad loved him, they hadn’t been particularly close in years. No games of catch in the backyard, after dinner. After all, it was hard to do anything after dinner when you didn’t usually sit down for a traditional meal. But that’s what came of a dad who owned a bar. He’d spent all of his time at The Wright Drink when Jack was a kid. And the bar had thrived.

If he believed Trina’s account, and he had no reason not to, the bar had taken a turn for the worse within the last year. According to several of his dad’s friends, that’s when his father’s health had started to deteriorate. Not surprising for someone who had smoked for well over forty years. Still, no one could ever prepare for the call that their dad had passed away.

Those same friends had also informed Jack that even though his dad’s health had been declining, he refused to stop working at the bar. He came in rain or snow, good health or bad. Looking around now, he could see that The Wright Drink had suffered as much as his dad.

After high school graduation, Jack had gone off to college on a baseball scholarship and played in the minors for a couple of years, until a knee injury put an end to that. He’d decided to travel. Backpacked through Europe. Spent some time in both Brazil and Iceland—talk about polar opposites. Eventually he’d settled in Vegas. He’d begun dealing at the blackjack tables at a fancy casino, as a favor to a friend. He’d actually enjoyed interacting with different people every night. He had worked hard and moved up the ranks, until he was a supervisor, overseeing the whole casino floor.

Jack began to pace; his long legs were eating up the distance from behind the bar, through the area of high-top tables and past the cluster of wall-mounted television sets. Another trait he’d inherited from his father.

Still, no amount of walking was going to get him out of this jam. His father had died of a very sudden heart attack, and he’d left the bar and his house to Jack. The Wright Drink had seen better days. It needed a cosmetic overhaul. It also needed a financial miracle. The pile of bills wasn’t going to shrink itself.

In their weekly—okay, sometimes more like biweekly—phone calls, James Wright had never let on that he was in trouble. If he had...

Jack stopped pacing. He would have what? Dropped what he was doing and rushed back home to Virginia? Probably not. The painful grasp of guilt wrapped around his heart and squeezed.

His mother had died when he was a freshman in high school. Both he and his dad took her death hard. His dad retreated into himself. As the owner of a business, he’d already spent a ton of time at the bar, but after his mother’s death, his dad had managed to devote even more time and attention to work. He’d stopped asking how school was going or putting in appearances at Jack’s baseball games.

He’d stopped caring.

Jack and this bar were the only things his father had. Although, only one of them seemed to get any attention from the old man.

Jack tried—mostly unsuccessfully—to shake off the sullen mood. He started to make his way into the small room his dad used as an office, when someone rapped on the front door.

Jack really wanted to tell whoever it was that the bar was still closed, but he was in no position to turn away possible business. He made easy work of crossing the room and opened the door to find his father’s lawyer and good friend standing there, holding a large tote bag, a small dog and a big grin.

“Jack, my boy, how’s it going?”

Fred Koda had been calling almost every day. Sadly, Jack’s answer to his standard greeting never changed.

“Same.”

Jack eyed the dog in Fred’s arms. He judged him to be about twenty, maybe twenty-five, pounds. He was a very light beige color and had lots of fur; he definitely had to be part poodle. He had a light brown nose, which his little pink tongue darted out to lick. Jack peered closer. The dog had green eyes. Very human-looking green eyes.

“I didn’t know you had a dog,” Jack said.

“I don’t.” Fred held the dog out to Jack. “But you do.”

Jack froze. “Excuse me?”

Fred pushed the dog into Jack’s arms. The dog immediately licked Jack’s chin. Fred waltzed into the bar. “This was your dad’s dog.”

What the what? “My father never mentioned a dog, and I haven’t seen any dog-related stuff at my dad’s house.”

“When James had his heart attack, I went over to the house and collected all of the food, treats, toys and beds I could find. He’s been living with me since that day. With you inheriting the bar and losing your dad, I didn’t want to bombard you.” He scratched the dog’s head. “Meet your new roommate, Cosmo.”

“Cosmo? What kind of name is Cosmo?” The realization hit him fast and hard. His mother didn’t drink much, but when she did, she always had a cosmopolitan.

Jack followed Fred into the bar. “Listen, Fred, I appreciate you taking care of this little guy. He is a guy, right?” Jack held the dog up and looked to his nether regions. “But I can’t take a dog.”

Fred grinned wider. “He was left to you. You are Cosmo’s new owner. But I’m going to miss our man time,” he said to the dog. “Cosmo likes to snuggle and watch TV.”

Swell. “That’s cute and all. But seriously, I can’t take this dog.”

The ironic part was that Jack used to beg for hours on end to get a dog when he was a little kid. Now here he was, shunning that boyhood dream.

Cosmo squirmed in Jack’s arms until he got comfortable. Then he licked Jack right on the mouth.

“Yuck.”

Fred chuckled. “He likes to give kisses.” He held up the tote bag before placing it on a nearby table. “Everything you need is in here. Food, toys, files from the vet. Cosmo’s a rescue.”

“My dad rescued a dog?” It was so strange that he wouldn’t mention something like that to Jack.

“Just about a year ago,” Fred said. “I think he needed a friend.”

Jack let out a long exhale, which did nothing to alleviate the hurt and guilt Fred’s comment had lodged in his throat. Intuitively, Cosmo snuggled closer to Jack, wedging his little head under Jack’s chin.

“Some other tips,” Fred said. “Cosmo is part poodle, but I’m not sure what he’s mixed with. So he doesn’t shed. He’s housebroken. He’s also very playful, takes two long walks a day, likes squeaky toys, hates the vacuum. Oh and he’s kind of a Velcro dog.”

“Velcro dog? What does that mean?”

Fred actually appeared to be a little sheepish. “He’s clingy.”

Great. Jack sighed. “Fred, Cosmo is really cute.” And he was. He would have been exactly the kind of dog he’d wanted when he was little. “But I can’t take him. I don’t even know if I’m staying in town.”

“Why wouldn’t you stay here? You have a place to live and you’re the new owner of the bar.”

“A bar that never gets any customers.”

Fred hesitated, then waved his hand as if to dismiss the idea. “Well, I’m sure it will pick up soon.”

“I’m still trying to figure out what happened here, Fred. When I was growing up, the place was packed almost every night. Now there’s a handful of regulars and that’s about it.”

The strangest part about this was the fact that The Wright Drink was located on King Street. As one of the busiest streets in the popular Old Town area, King Street generated enough foot traffic to make attracting thirsty customers a breeze. Locals and tourists alike always seemed charmed by Old Town Alexandria, with its quaint cobblestone streets, red brick sidewalks, the history and culture, the close proximity to Washington, DC, the view of the Potomac, and the restaurants and shops.

“I’m not sure what to tell you, kid. I didn’t think much of it at the time, but looking back, your dad was acting a little weird for the last year or two.”

Jack shifted. “What do you mean?”

“Forgetful. Aloof. Not that he was ever Mr. Personality before.”

Maybe something besides the lifelong smoking had been going on with his dad. With his health. His grandfather had had dementia. Perhaps his dad started to get the same thing.

“Do you think that’s why most of the regulars haven’t paid their tabs? From the receipts and records I’ve gone through, it seems like my dad hadn’t asked them to settle for the last two years.”

Fred shrugged. “Could be.”

But would asking for money drive them away? Then the bar would truly be empty. Frustrated, Jack gritted his teeth. The only thing he knew about a bar was how to go to one and order a beer.

With a sigh, he said, “Maybe I’m not cut out for this, Fred. I can always try to sell it.”

“Nonsense,” Fred bellowed. “Your dad wanted you to have The Wright Drink. He told me many times.”

“Would have been nice for him to tell me too.” He hadn’t meant to utter that out loud, but he couldn’t take it back now. Fred paused. Finally, he put a hand on Jack’s shoulder and squeezed.

“I have to get going. I’m meeting a client near Mount Vernon and I heard the Parkway is backed up.”

Panic washed over Jack. “But Cosmo?” he asked helplessly.

Fred laughed as he quickly headed for the door. “You’ll be fine.”

“He shouldn’t even be in here. There are health-code violations. Right?” Were there? He had no idea.

“James had him in here all the time. Cosmo liked to sleep behind the bar.”

“Fred, wait...”

But Fred didn’t wait. Jack was alone with a little dog—and with his thoughts, which was even worse.

He was in no better place than he was before. He still needed to figure out how to turn the bar around. Or sell. Despite Fred’s protests, Jack was considering the idea to be a very viable option.

Ashamed of the thought, he walked to the middle of the bar. In the past, this would be the point where he stepped outside for a smoke. A little stress relief. Since that was no longer an option, Jack decided to have a much-needed tête-à-tête with Cosmo.

He placed the dog on the floor. Cosmo looked up at him with adoring eyes. “Listen, I like dogs. I do. But I’m not the most stable guy on the planet.”

Cosmo shifted and then lifted his leg and peed.

Jack sighed again. Loudly. “You really going to do that in public? In the middle of a bar where people eat and drink?”

Cosmo tilted his head, as if he were considering a reply. He just looked at Jack and walked to another corner of the bar and sat. And stared back at Jack.

“Damn it.” Jack ran his hands through his hair. He swore the dog had a look on his face akin to “na-na na-na boo-boo.”

Frustrated, he went to the supply closet and retrieved cleaning supplies. “Housebroken, my ass.”

He cleaned up the mess and shoved the soiled paper towels into a trash bag. Then he rummaged through Cosmo’s luggage and found a blanket and small bed. He stuck them under the bar, and the dog pranced over to them and made himself comfortable.

“Stay,” Jack said. “I’m going to throw out this little mess.”

He didn’t think dogs really smiled, but this one looked to be grinning ear to ear.

“I mean it, Prince Charming. Stay.”

He pushed through the back door that led to the alley behind the bar. He threw the black bag into the dumpster. Hard.

March was notorious for unpredictable weather, but today was beautiful. Mild temperature, with a nice breeze. Good day for a walk. Maybe a bit of exercise would help clear his mind. Bring a bit of clarity to his current situation.

He stepped away from the dumpster and glanced up and down the alley. He was unfamiliar with these businesses. He’d have to meander down Prince Street to familiarize himself. He did know there was a seafood restaurant, off to the right, and the door on the left led to...was it a wedding-dress shop? The windows were a little too high to see inside and protected by blinds, in any case.

Jack shook his head. So much had changed in this area of the city since he’d returned. He was actually rather proud to see Alexandria’s expansion.

Then suddenly a movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. He turned as a blur of white ruffles began to pour out of the window he’d just been gazing at.

What the hell?

The mass of material made a strangled sound as it continued to shimmy out of the window. A few more inches and a head of curly auburn hair topped with a veil surfaced.

He froze at the sight of a bride climbing out of the window. Either that or a life-size marshmallow had just exploded into the alley.

Yep, that door definitely led to a bridal shop.

“Gotta get out. Gotta get out,” the bride chanted breathlessly.

He’d heard of runaway brides, but this was something else. He would have chuckled, but the woman suddenly slipped, leaving her and that massive dress dangling from the windowsill. He assumed her feet were under there somewhere, but it seemed like all of that fluff had swallowed them.

She let out a squeak and Jack rushed over to help. “Hang on, I got you.”

Another little yelp sounded and her arms shook right before she fell... Right on top of Jack. He tried to catch her, but with all that dress, he wasn’t sure what body part he had managed to grab hold of. All he knew was that he was falling to the hard ground of the alley, with a pile of lace and satin and soft woman covering him.

A friend of his caught the bouquet at a wedding once. Apparently he’d taken it a step further and caught the bride.

Chapter Two

Emerson Dewitt knew two things for sure.

First, she was lying on top of a strange man, in the dirty alley behind her mother’s exclusive bridal boutique. And second, she was still wearing the ten-thousand-dollar wedding dress that had given her the urge to flee in the first place.

It was a strapless gown with a ruched bodice, and it had a fit-and-flare style, with an emphasis on the flare part. The bottom half of the dress exploded into layer upon layer of puffy white organza and tulle covered in delicate crystals and ruffled flowers. It was as close to wearing a cloud made out of cotton balls as she would probably get. Although, cotton balls didn’t weigh anything. This frilly monstrosity felt like it would clock in at about eighty pounds.

And surely her savior, whoever he was, didn’t appreciate having an eighty-pound dress, plus a woman, crash-land on top of him. At least the fall appeared to knock the anxiety attack right out of her—she could feel her pulse returning to normal. She couldn’t believe she’d just climbed out of a window. This had to take over the number-one spot on the list of craziest things she’d ever done.

“I’m so sorry,” Emerson said, shifting her weight and trying to rearrange herself and the dress. If she’d so much as knocked a crystal loose on this dress, her mother would kill her.

“’t’s ’kay,” the man mumbled in a deep voice. She could feel him moving under her as he attempted to push the various layers of material out of his way.

“No, it’s not. Let me just...” She broke off as she tried to figure out how to get up gracefully. Only, a second later, she realized she’d left grace and all other etiquette behind the moment she’d decided to fling herself out the window.

After a few more moments of rustling about, Emerson and her Good Samaritan had freed themselves and were finally standing again. That’s when she got her first look at him.

And damn, he was sexy. Tall and muscular, with dark, disheveled hair and dark eyes to match. Eyes that were currently giving her a suspicious once-over as he brushed dirt off his pants.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“I am, thanks to you,” she said, with her voice sounding a little breathier than she’d like. “Emerson Dewitt.” She stuck a hand out to shake. He grasped it and she shivered.

“Jack Wright.” He looked around the alleyway, eyeing the window to her mother’s shop. “Is there somewhere I can take you? Back to the shop?” His gaze fell over her attire. “To a church?”

In spite of everything else, she laughed. “Definitely not to a church. I guess you’re probably wondering why a bride would climb out a window.”

He nodded gravely but there was a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

“You see, I was trying this dress on and then...well, someone must have sucked all of the air out of the room, and I was seeing black spots in front of my eyes and then...” She sighed, long and hard. “I’ll take ‘ways to have a panic attack’ for five hundred.”

Again, he nodded. “I see. Well, marriage is a big step.”

She cocked her head. “Marriage?” She felt her nose crinkle. “I’m not...oh of course you would think that.” She smoothed down one of the flouncy flowers on the front of the gown. “I’m not getting married.” Blew that chance last year.

Jack remained still for a moment. Finally, his brows creased. “And you would be in a wedding dress why?”

She sighed. “Funny story.”

He crossed his arms over his chest, and the motion stretched the fabric of his T-shirt, so she couldn’t help but notice the rippling muscles underneath. Yum. She looked up—high up, because Jack Wright was very tall—to see Jack waiting patiently.

He pointed to the door of the wedding shop. “Why don’t we get you inside? My dad’s—that is, I own The Wright Drink. Looks like you could you use one.”

“Right drink, wrong drink, I’ll take either. Thanks.” She glanced down and happened to notice something. Something very bad. “Ohmigod!”

“What’s wrong?”

“I got dirt all over this dress. My mother is going to seriously kill me.”

Jack peered at her dress. “Don’t worry. I can get that out with a special mixture my dad came up with.”

She arched an eyebrow in suspicion.

“You don’t own a bar for as long as my dad did without having a great hangover cure and a fail-safe stain remover.”

He held the door open and led Emerson through the back of the bar. He gestured for her to take a seat. She took a moment to observe the space. It was nice. The bar, a large, continuous square made of a dark wood, dominated the room. Glasses of various shapes and sizes hung from the shelving above it. And gold fixtures gave the place an old-timey feel, even if the gold needed a good polish. It reminded her of the reruns of the show Cheers. All it was missing was Norm and Cliff at one end of the bar.

Jack appeared in front of her, with the bar separating them. He handed her a rag. “Just dab lightly at the dirt. Should come right out.”

Miraculously, it did! She was saved, for now.

“Thank you so much,” she said gratefully.

“No problem.”

She continued to inspect the dress and clean up any imperfections she found. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw movement and jumped out of her chair.

“What is that?”

“Huh?” Jack questioned. “Oh sorry. That’s Cosmo, my dad’s dog. Apparently.”

Emerson clapped her hands together. “A dog!” She crouched down and the poodle-like dog pranced right over to her, with the charms on his collar jingling while he did.

“Aren’t you the cutest thing? You are so handsome. Yes, you are.” She lost herself in petting the dog, who rolled right over on his back. She obliged by scratching his tummy. “Do you like your belly scratched? Yes, you do.” She met Jack’s unamused eyes. “He is the sweetest thing.”

“Don’t be fooled,” Jack said dryly. “He peed on the floor ten minutes ago.”

“Well, maybe you should have taken him out. It wasn’t your fault, cutie-pie. No, it wasn’t.” She took in Cosmo’s adorable little face, with his brown nose. “Are his eyes...green?” she asked Jack.

“Seems like it. I’ve never seen a dog with eyes like that before. They’re very human. I feel like he looks at me and knows things he shouldn’t.”

Emerson laughed. She picked up the dog and cradled him to her side, the way she would with a baby. Cosmo wrapped his legs around her and seemed quite content.

“I can’t believe you’re picking him up,” Jack said. “Your dress.”

Emerson absolutely adored dogs. Her mother had been firmly against them getting a dog, no matter how much Emerson and her sister had begged. Her dad begged too, for that matter. Of course, a dog would not have been good for her mother’s antiques and perfect house.

“You better be careful.” Jack wagged a finger at her. “I’m not sure if my dad’s stain remover can get dog pee out of a wedding dress.”

She kissed the top of Cosmo’s head. “You won’t go potty on me, will you? No, you won’t.”

“You’ve been warned. Now, what can I get you?” Jack asked. “Water? Hot tea? Maybe a glass of wine? I have a nice sauvignon blanc.”

“A beer would be great, actually. Whatever you have on tap that’s seasonal. And Cosmo needs some water.”

He blinked, but quickly reached for a mug and pulled on the tab in front of him to fill up the beer. Once the frothy, amber-colored liquid was in front of her, Emerson downed half of it in a single gulp, relishing the malty taste.

A look of surprise, followed by amusement, crossed his face. “Thirsty?” He filled up a bowl with water and placed it on the floor. Emerson let Cosmo down and the dog happily trotted toward the bowl and delicately lapped at the water. Satisfied, he returned to his bed, walked in a circle and then settled into a little ball.

Emerson let out a burp. “Excuse me. My mother would kill me if she could see this.” She drank the rest of the drink and held the mug up. “Maybe a water now?”

“Of course.” As he grabbed a clean glass and filled it with ice and then water, he eyed her. “Want to talk about it?”

She liked his eyes. They were a dark chocolaty brown. Serious and mysterious, but there was that twinkle after all.

Emerson took a sip of the water and settled in to explain. “My mother owns Dewitt’s Bridal, over on Prince Street.” She gestured in that direction now. “When she gets new dresses in stock, she asks me and my sister to try them on. She likes to see them on a real person before she recommends them to a customer.”

“So you were helping your mom out?”

“Basically.” She broke off as she looked down at the dress with an eye roll.

“Go on,” he urged, waiting for her to finish her thought.

But Emerson didn’t know what to say. What could she say really? The truth? Jack might be nice, and he had provided her with some much-needed alcohol during a trying moment, but he was still a stranger. Did she dare tell him that, as soon as she’d taken one look at herself wearing the wedding dress, in the three-way mirror, the air had whooshed out of her lungs? Her heart had begun beating so fast and so hard that she could practically hear it. The room had started to spin.

She played with the straw in her glass of water.

“Emerson?” Jack asked. “What happened? You seem...upset.”

She sighed. “It’s stupid, really. I saw myself dressed like this and I freaked. I was being dramatic and unnecessarily emotional.” She attempted a smile and shrugged, trying to make light of the situation.

The reality was the last time she’d been wearing a wedding dress, she’d been standing in the back of a church, waiting for her fiancé. But he hadn’t shown. Only the note had arrived.

Jack’s eyes narrowed. “Climbing out of a window is a bit drastic. But something must have made you feel that way to need to escape so badly.”

“Like I said, I overreacted. I’m just not that into weddings.”

Jack nodded. “You don’t want to get married?”

I did. He didn’t.

Not being into weddings and not being into her marriage were two very different things. Emerson nodded. She agreed with Jack’s presumption because it seemed a lot simpler than going into the whole mess. Let him think she didn’t want to get married. It’s not like she’d see him again after today.

“That must be hard, since your mom owns a bridal shop.”

“Understatement.” She sat up straight and put on her best impression of a Southern accent. “Why, Beatrice Dewitt will have both of her daughters married faster than you can say mint julep.”

Behind the bar, Jack grinned. Emerson felt lucky to already be sitting down. She was a sucker for a good smile on a handsome face.

“Mama is from Spartanburg, South Carolina.”

He met this information with a blank stare.

“She was a deb. You know, a debutante?”

His facial expression didn’t change. She was going to have to spell this out.

“Southern women live for weddings. My mama’s chosen profession only adds to her wedding-mania. Being surrounded by silk organza gowns, lacy veils and sparkly accessories on a daily basis does nothing to suppress her desire to see me married.”

“But you’re not engaged right now?”

“I’m not even dating anyone at the moment. But that doesn’t stop Mama. My younger and incredibly perfect sister, Amelia, isn’t helping matters. She got married six months ago. I’d had a bit of a reprieve while Mama was busy planning her wedding.”

She clasped her hands in her lap and studied the bright coral nail polish that was chipping. Her mother had been harping on it earlier.

“So now that your sister’s married, your mother is trying to get you married off, even though you’re not interested.”

Again, she didn’t correct his assumption. Mainly because she didn’t want to tell him that she had been engaged. She had done the whole song and dance.

“This year is my parents’ thirtieth wedding anniversary. They’re having a huge party in a month. I think she’d like me to have a date. Or a fiancé. Or a husband.” Emerson threw her hands into the air. “It would complete the perfect family image. Amelia did her part.”

“Is your sister as pretty as you?”

Emerson sat back and swallowed, feeling her cheeks heat up. “Um, no—I mean yes—I mean... Thank you.” She bit her lip. “My sister is gorgeous. But we don’t look alike. Except for the hair color.” She ran a hand over her curly auburn hair until her fingers tangled with the floor-length veil.

“Amelia is tall and thin and beautiful. She looks like a model. I’m short and curvy and definitely not.”

Jack took her in. His gaze swept from the top of her head, over her body, all the way down to the ground. Slowly. Surely. “I think you look just fine.”

Emerson fought the urge to fidget. “Again, thank you. You’ve made me feel a lot better. You must be a really amazing bartender.”

Jack’s face fell. “I wouldn’t exactly call myself a bartender.”

She took in the various taps of beer, bottles of liquor stacked neatly on the far wall and rows of pristine glassware. “No?”

“I mean, I own this bar. Now. Recently, that is. My father passed away and left it to me.”

The emotions on her new friend’s face tugged at her heart. “I’m so sorry. About your father, I mean.” She could only imagine if something happened to her mother and she had to take over the bridal shop.

Cosmo made his way to Emerson’s chair. Then he let out a sound that sounded very close to a sigh. She picked him up again and placed him on her lap. He snuggled closer to Emerson.

“Poor thing.” Emerson rubbed her hands up and down the dog’s back, enjoying his soft fur. “I bet you miss your dad, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

She’d asked the question of the dog, but Jack answered. His word came out so softly, she wondered if he knew he’d said it. By the distant look on his face, she imagined not. She let it go.

“As you can see for yourself, The Wright Drink doesn’t exactly have the right appeal.”

Emerson took a moment to glance around the space. It needed some light—natural light, preferably. And one hell of a cleaning crew would do wonders. But all in all, she found it charming. Like an old English pub.

“I don’t know,” she said. “Seems like it just needs some tender loving care. A fresh coat of paint wouldn’t hurt either.”

“But would new paint bring customers in?”

She wasn’t sure if he was really asking her, but she decided to answer anyway. “Probably not. But if you zhuzhed up the inside, spent some time on a social media campaign and planned a couple of enticing events, you could turn things around. I’m an event planner and I’ve done plenty of grand openings for bars and restaurants, not to mention specialized events like themed nights, New Year’s Eve parties, birthday parties, you name it. You’d be surprised what attracts people.”

The air hung heavily between them. They locked eyes and it took everything in her power not to squirm from the intensity pouring out of those serious eyes.

She could feel the heat returning to her face and decided to lighten things up. “I mean, there are several ways to get customers interested in a business. I just organized the food truck festival last weekend and I know there—”

“You put that together?” He whistled long and low. “That was amazing. I heard there were two dozen trucks and they maxed out on ticket sales.”

She nodded. “The city wanted to focus on local businesses. Every food truck was owned by an Alexandria resident. To be honest, the publicity budget wasn’t very large. But word of mouth is a powerful tool. People were excited to support the trucks.”

“I got food from at least five or six places,” Jack said. “There was such great diversity.”

“Fifteen different ethnicities represented,” she said proudly. She’d worked extra hard to make sure a variety of diverse foods and cultures were included when she’d begun organizing the festival.

“Sadly, it almost didn’t happen. The organizers had wanted to do it for years, but the city kept pushing back. Said it wouldn’t bring any interest. There were a lot of things we did to make sure we would pack the festival.” She gestured around the bar. “Wouldn’t be hard to do the same kind of thing here.”

He seemed interested. “Really?”

“Off the top of my head, I would suggest a grand opening. Or a reopening, as the situation would warrant. There are several events you could begin hosting that would help garner interest.”

“Like bachelorette parties?” A pained expression crossed his face.

Emerson laughed. “I was thinking more like a weekly trivia night, regular happy-hour specials and maybe even a ladies’ night.” She didn’t even go into the social media opportunities. “You have a lot to work with here.”

Jack followed her gaze. “How do you know about all of this?”

“It’s part of my job.”

Jack leaned back suddenly. “Looks like we both have a problem to solve.”

“Trust me, it would be a lot easier to get people into this bar than it would be to get my mother off my back.”

Jack rubbed a hand along his jaw. She noticed some dark stubble and could hear a scratching noise as his fingers moved over it. Was it wrong that her mouth watered at the sight?

“How about...” he trailed off.

“What?” she asked.

“Nothing—it’s a crazy idea.”

“Come on. We’ve already bonded over my frazzled nerves and your outdated bar.”

“Okay then. Why don’t I be your boyfriend?”

Yes, please. She coughed. “Excuse me? Why would you pretend to be my boyfriend? I mean, why would anyone do something like that? You don’t even know me.”

“Because,” Jack said patiently, “I need your help too.” He gestured to the bar around him. “I don’t know if I’m going to keep this place and find someone to manage it for me, or sell it. But no matter what I do, I have to turn it around. And you’d be the perfect person to help me make that happen.”

Emerson mulled over his proposal. “So you help me with my family. I help you with the bar.”

“You got it.”

“You’re going to pretend to be my boyfriend?” She couldn’t believe she was entertaining this at all. It was nuts. “That’s a lot to ask of you.”

“It’s me being your boyfriend for one night at your parents’ party. Believe me, from the looks of it, turning this place around will be the harder part.”

She chewed on her lip. “O-okay. So we’re going to be a pretend couple. And we’ll fix up your bar.”

“And no one gets hurt,” he finished.

As she considered, a smile began spreading over his handsome face. If it weren’t for that damn smile...

“What do you say? Do you want to make a deal?” He held out his hand and Cosmo let out a little yip.

She rose, and the wedding dress billowed around her. Then she clasped his offered hand. “I do.”

Chapter Three

The last time Emerson had an imaginary boyfriend, she’d been in middle school. Her twelve-year-old sister had announced at Sunday dinner that she was “going with” Jeremy Swanson. So Emerson did what any self-respecting fourteen-year-old would do. She’d invented a boyfriend of her own, claiming he went to a different school and was constantly busy with sports.

That act hadn’t lasted long. She’d never been any good at lying, which didn’t bode well for what she was about to do with Jack.

He squeezed her hand. “Want me to go in with you?” he asked as they stood outside of her mother’s bridal boutique, staring at the black-and-white-striped awning with Dewitt’s Bridal scrawled across it in a fancy pink script. On his leash, Cosmo stood obediently next to Jack.

Emerson shook her head. “Thank you, but I think it will be better if we wait as long as possible to bring you into the fold.” Easier on her, as well. “I’ll spring you on them when we get closer to the anniversary party. Plus that will give us time to start work on turning the bar around.”

Jack gave her a long once-over, with his face emanating doubt. It looked like he was about to ask a question. But he must have decided against it. “You’re the boss,” he said simply instead. “Why don’t you come over tonight? I can fill you in on the situation with the bar and we can start planning.”

“I’ll be there. Just text me the address.” She paused. “You’re not a serial killer or anything, are you?”

He held his hand up in a salute. “Law-abiding citizen, I promise. But if it makes you feel better, we can meet at the bar.”

She was probably being silly or overly cautious. She hoped her new pretend boyfriend wasn’t a psychopath, but you just never knew these days. “The bar sounds great.”

“Done. We can continue to get to know each other better tonight. If we’re going to make this work, we’ll need details.”

Emerson cocked her head. “What do you mean?”

“If we’re dating, we need to know essentials. Favorite color, movie, band, food, hobbies. I don’t even know your middle name. Or if you have one.”

Emerson couldn’t believe she was doing this. But desperate times called for desperate measures. Pretending to be dating Jack was a tiny white lie; it wouldn’t hurt anyone.

He was really great to suggest this ruse. When was the last time she’d met a decent guy like him? Definitely not any of the men her mother had tried to fix her up with. Certainly not Thad, her ex-fiancé. Thad had barely ever asked how her day had been, so he would never have stepped in to do something as gallant as this.

She eyed Jack now. Damn, he was handsome. No, she thought. Handsome wasn’t the right word. More like...attractive and kind. She only hoped she wasn’t taking advantage of him.

She might not know him well yet, but she could tell he wasn’t the type to offer something when he didn’t want to do it. Besides, it wasn’t like Jack was the only one getting something out of this bargain. She was happy to help Jack with his bar. And she would see to it that the place became a success.

“Emerson? You okay?”

“Yes.” His question pulled her out of her thoughts. “Sorry. I’ll be there tonight and tell you absolutely everything there is to know about me.”

Apparently satisfied, Jack nodded. “Okay. Good luck.”

Emerson crouched down to say goodbye to Cosmo, and then she rose and took a step toward the shop, anxious to get out of the overbearing wedding gown. She couldn’t imagine wearing something like this for her special day.

Before she reached for the door, she turned back, looking over her shoulder. Jack hadn’t moved. He was standing on the sidewalk, watching her. He was making sure she really was okay.

“Rose,” she said spontaneously.

Jack tilted his head in question.

“My middle name is Rose.”

He grinned and her knees felt weak. “See you tonight, Emerson Rose Dewitt. And for the record, I think you make a really beautiful bride.”

Their eyes met and she had to work hard to hold back a shiver. Finally, Jack broke the gaze and retreated down the street, with Cosmo trotting alongside him. Emerson placed a hand on her stomach, willing the fluttering to subside.

When she pushed through the front door and entered the shop, she still didn’t feel calm. All she could think about was Jack. But a few seconds later, the sound of her mother’s voice broke the spell.

“Emerson, finally.” Her mother let out a long, exasperated gasp. “Where in the world have you been?” She rushed toward Emerson, wearing a tailored mauve pantsuit; her makeup was absolutely flawless, and every strand of hair was perfectly in place.

“I—I—I mean...”

She struggled to finish the sentence as her younger sister made a mad dash across the store. Amelia’s eyes were wide and she was subtly shaking her head. “Hey, Em,” she said brightly as she pushed something covertly into her hand. Emerson realized it was her cell phone. “See, Mama, I told you she was just taking a call outside.”

Grateful, Emerson let out the breath she wasn’t aware she’d been holding. “Right. Sorry. Business call. I didn’t mean to worry you.”

Her mother’s narrowed gaze was almost enough to make her drop the phone and start spilling all of the details of her little alleyway adventure.

“Of course I was worried, Emerson. You’re wearing a ten-thousand-dollar dress. What in the hell were you thinking stepping outside in it?”

Or flinging herself out a window. But she decided not to mention that.

“You could have gotten the hemline dirty.” Beatrice Dewitt’s eagle eye was already examining the dress.

“Looks fine to me,” Amelia said.

Emerson took her sister in. She was wearing an elegant lace gown with cap sleeves that was straight and fitted to her flawless body. Just as she’d told Jack earlier, the two of them had the same auburn hair as their mother. But while Emerson did her best to tame her curly, shoulder-length hair, Amelia’s trendy layers always seemed to float carelessly, as if someone were following her around with a wind machine.

Amelia was two years younger than Emerson, but she’d surpassed her in height before the age of ten and never looked back. Emerson topped off at a whopping five foot three on a good day, while Amelia was a stately five-nine, without heels.

Emerson had needed braces, while Amelia’s teeth had been straight. During middle school, Emerson had become quite familiar with the dermatologist, while Amelia never so much as got a sweat pimple.

Amelia had twenty-twenty vision. Emerson needed glasses and contacts.

Amelia could wear anything off the rack. Emerson paid a good portion of her salary to her tailor.

Amelia had found her Prince Charming and gotten married. Emerson...

Shouldn’t it have been the other way around? Didn’t the law of archetypes suggest that she was supposed to be the overachiever and her younger sister was destined to be the rebel?

Emerson clutched the cell phone in her hand. The reminder that, despite all of their differences, her sister did have her back. At least that was something. And something that was a constant source of guilt.

It would be so easy to be jealous of her sister, but Amelia—her little Mia—made that next to impossible. For every success Amelia achieved, Emerson seemed to fail at something. Yet, ever since she was born, Amelia looked to her big sister with awe in her eyes, as if Emerson were the one realizing great triumphs.

And here she was, silently bitching about her curly hair and lack of height.

She mouthed thanks to her sister and faced their mother. “I’m sorry, Mama. Really. I just needed to take a call.”

“From?” her mother asked, after her cursory examination of the wedding dress was complete.

Her palms began to sweat. “Um, just a client.”

“Which client?” Her mother put her hands on her hips.

“Well, a new client, as a matter of fact.”

“A new client. Way to go, Em,” Amelia added. “Your event-planning business is really growing. I knew organizing that food truck festival was going to put you on the map.”

She gave another grateful smile to her sister, even if Amelia didn’t understand she was lying.

“Food trucks!” Her mother shook her head as her eyes rolled up to the ceiling. “Honestly, who enjoys eating from a dirty truck in the middle of the street?”

“Um, everyone?” Amelia said, with a hint of sarcasm. Emerson stifled a laugh. “Did you see how many people attended the festival? It was epic.”

“Thanks, Mia,” Emerson said gratefully.

“So, who is this new client?” her mother asked impatiently. Clearly they were done discussing food trucks.

“Um, well...” She almost wiped her hands on the dress until she luckily remembered that sweat stains on a ten-thousand-dollar dress probably wouldn’t help her mother sell it.

“Well, what?” her mother said. “Honestly, Emerson, I can’t believe you are twenty-eight years old and still stuttering.”

I don’t stutter. Emerson jutted her chin out. She’d been accused of stuttering since she was a little girl, when in reality she sometimes needed a second.

“My new client is a bar. They want to reinvigorate the place. The Wright Drink, over on King Street,” she supplied. If she presented Jack as a client, it wouldn’t seem so random when she introduced him to the family as her boyfriend, at the anniversary party.

“Don’t we share the alley with that bar?” her mother asked.

Emerson blinked. “The alley? Um, I don’t know. Why would I know that?”

“Are you okay?” Amelia asked, with true concern in her eyes.

Emerson’s mouth was dry, her heart was beating a mile a minute and she was beginning to feel that same overwhelming feeling that caused her to launch herself out of a window earlier. She didn’t know if it was because she was still wearing the dreaded wedding dress or because she hated lying to anyone, let alone her family.

“Yep, great. I’d like to get out of this getup though.”

“Let me at least get a look at you two first,” her mother said as her keen eye raked over her daughters, no doubt taking in every detail.

Emerson and her sister stood side by side as their mother did a circle. She stopped to dust something off the back of Emerson’s dress, and Emerson prayed that she didn’t notice the wrinkles from her fall, or any smudges she might’ve missed. If Jack hadn’t been there with his club soda, not to mention being there to catch her in the first place...

She closed her eyes and remembered the feel of his strong arms around her. And the way he smiled at her from behind the bar.

I think you make a really beautiful bride.

“What’s that smile about?” Amelia asked.

Emerson snapped to attention. “Uhhh...”

“Emerson, you’re all flushed.” Beatrice did that universal mother move of pressing her hand to the forehead. “Are you coming down with something?”

“No, just warm in this monstrosity of a dress,” she covered. Emerson really hoped she didn’t reek of beer or any of the gross alley smells. She took a step back just in case.

“That monstrosity of a dress is going to be a bestseller. I know it.” She took another moment to collect her thoughts. “Just as I thought. Amelia, that dress is prefect for a body shape like yours. Plus it comes in white, ivory, and blush. Customers will like that. I wish I could use you in the ad campaign. Everyone would want to wear this.”

Emerson couldn’t stifle an eye roll.

“And Emerson...”

“I know, I know. I look like a little kid playing dress up.” Emerson sighed and steeled herself for the critique.

Her mother scrutinized her for a moment before stepping forward. She pushed a curl behind Emerson’s ear. “I know this dress is not your personal style, but I was going to say you look beautiful.” She leaned closer and whispered, “Maybe one day you’ll realize just how beautiful.”

Her throat tightened.

Jack told her she’d looked beautiful, and now her mother had too. But there was one person who had never said that. It was no wonder he’d left her at the altar. Why had she even been surprised?

Stepping back, Beatrice said, “Although, now that you mention it, when you slouch like that, you do look like a nine-year-old. Stand up tall, with your shoulders back. Like your sister.”

Once again, discomfort overtook her. She pulled at the dress. “I should change. Amelia, can you help me?” She didn’t wait for a response. Instead she pulled her sister through the store, past the racks of tulle, beading, lace, and organza. She ignored the shelves of sparkly tiaras and the glass cases filled with elegant jewelry. She didn’t stop until she was locked firmly in the dressing room with her sister.

“I really need to get out of this dress.” She began pulling and tugging, trying to figure out how to get it off her.

“Okay, okay, calm down.” Amelia was behind her, quickly undoing the buttons.

When she was finally freed from the cumbersome dress, Emerson let out a long sigh. She crumbled down to the chair in her strapless bra and nude panties. For good measure, she took another long inhale of breath.

“Thanks for covering for me out there, Mia,” she said to her sister.

“No problem. But, Em, what in the hell happened? Where did you go? What’s wrong?”

I hate weddings. I hate wedding dresses. But most of all, I hate that Thad made me hate weddings and wedding dresses.

Emerson wanted to tell her sister. But the words were stuck in her throat.

“Is this because of Thad?” Amelia asked in a quiet voice.

She really should give her sister more credit. Emerson nodded. “Kind of.”

Amelia pointed at her. “I knew it. I told Mama not to have you come in today. I told her you weren’t ready for this.”

“You and Mama talked about me?”

“Of course,” she said, as if they talked about her all of the time. “Mama disagreed. She thinks you’re ready to start dating again.”

Emerson saw her own horrified face reflected back at her in the three-way mirror. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to date. More, she knew her mother would have a list of suitors lined up, each suckier than the last.

“Maybe you should start getting out there again,” Amelia offered. “I mean, your wedding—”

“Nonwedding, you mean,” Emerson said.

“Sorry, Em. Your nonwedding was over a year ago. Have you been out with anyone since Thad?”

She shook her head. Amelia’s eyes filled with sadness. That look was enough to have Emerson popping up and grabbing her jeans and the red blouse she’d worn when she had first arrived at the shop. She dressed quickly, threw her hair back in a ponytail and faced her sister. “I’m fine. Don’t worry.”

“But, Em, I, uh, get it. I do. I mean, with me and Charlie...”

She didn’t let Amelia finish the thought. It was barely noon and it already felt like the longest day ever. The last thing she wanted to hear about was her sister’s perfect husband and even more ideal marriage. Instead she headed toward the front of the store, ready to bid her mother farewell and get back to work. Only, her mother had other ideas.

“Oh Emerson, before you go, I wanted to tell you that my friend Suzette—you remember her, right?” She didn’t wait for Emerson’s answer. “Suzette is having a dinner party next week and her son will be there. He’s just recently moved back from New York. He’s a year older than you.”

Emerson froze. “Um, I have to work that night.”

Beatrice squinted. “I haven’t told you what day it is.” She waved her hand nonchalantly. “Doesn’t matter. Also, Patty Ellington-Ross’s nephew is available and I thought it would be nice for you to show him around town. After all, Patty did attend your wedding. Or she tried to.”

Emerson didn’t know which part of that statement pissed her off the most.

Amelia jumped in. “Mama, I actually have a guy that I think would be perfect for Em. He works with Charlie.”

Emerson knew her sister was trying to help her, attempting to get their mother off her back. But she honestly couldn’t tell if Amelia really did want to set her up or not.

“I don’t need anyone to set me up on dates,” she said.

“Of course you do.” Her mother waved a hand in a flippant manner. “You haven’t been on a date since Thad.”

She took a deep breath. “Actually, I’m seeing someone,” she shouted.

Her mother and Amelia both paused, with their eyes going wide.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Amelia asked.

At the same time, her mother said, “Who is he? What’s his name?”

Now she’d really done it. She had wanted to keep Jack out of this for as long as possible. But it looked like she would have to move up the timeline. At least, she could probably keep her family away from him until the anniversary party. They should be happy enough to simply know of his existence.

“His name is Jack Wright and we haven’t been seeing each other very long.” She glanced at the time on her cell phone display. A whole hour had passed since she’d landed on top of Jack.

“Jack Wright,” her mother rolled the name around on her tongue, the same way her father savored a good bourbon.

“Right. I didn’t tell you about him because the whole thing is still so new. You know, I didn’t want to jinx anything.”

Her mother folded her arms across her chest.

Emerson felt obliged to elaborate. “Plus I was so ridiculously busy planning the food truck festival.”

Her mother started tapping her foot. “What does this Jack Wright do?”

Not for the first time in her life, Emerson had to wonder why mothers insisted on putting this in front of people’s names.

“He owns The Wright Drink, that bar I mentioned.”

“A bar?” Her mother’s eyebrows shot so high up her forehead, they might as well be across the Potomac River, in the District. “He’s a bartender?”

“Yes, but he also owns the bar.” Emerson could feel her anger rising. God forbid her boyfriend—or fake boyfriend—wasn’t a lawyer, like her father and her perfect brother-in-law.

“Wait,” Amelia added. “Didn’t you just say that bar was a new client? You’re going out with one of your clients?”

Thanks, sis. “That’s how we met. He hired me. I know it’s not the best idea, but I’ll only be working on the bar for a limited time.”

Silence fell over them. But the quiet was a mere reprieve, because the rapid-fire questions began almost immediately.

“How old is he? Where’s his family from?” her mother asked.

“Is he hot?” Amelia asked.

“Where did he go to school?”

“What’s he like?”

Jack was right. They totally needed to get to know each other. And fast.

“Um, um...”

“You need to bring him to dinner,” her mother announced. “At the house. We should meet him.”

“Why?” she screeched.

“Because it’s customary for the family to get to know your boyfriend.”

Amelia snorted. “Yeah, maybe in 1950. Mama, you are so old-fashioned.”

Beatrice actually appeared shocked by the statement. “No, I’m not. I’m just a concerned mother, taking an interest in her daughter’s life.”

Amelia rolled her eyes dramatically. “Concerned? More like nosy.”

“Fine, fine, I’ll stay out of it completely.” Beatrice tipped her nose into the air. “I won’t ask either of you anything about your lives. I’ll just stay on the sidelines, completely quiet.”

“Sounds good to me,” Emerson said.

Unfortunately, Amelia had a different reply. She put her arm around their mother’s shoulders. “Mama, we would never want that.”

Emerson shook her head. Her sister would never learn. She fell into their mother’s traps every single time.

Seeming appeased, Beatrice said, “Thank you, darling.” She kissed Amelia on the forehead. “Besides, most people think I’m quite modern, with impeccable taste. You know how in-demand this store is. We rarely have an opening for a fitting.”

“Here we go again,” Emerson said in a stage whispered to her sister, knowing exactly where this was going. “The reality show.”

Beatrice put on an air of shock. “What? It’s true. That network did want to film a reality show here. But I didn’t want to expose our brides-to-be to that kind of public scrutiny.”

Amelia snorted. “You may be on the cutting edge here at the store, but everywhere else in your life, you are so, so...”

“Southern,” Emerson finished for her.

“And what is wrong with that? My mama knew every young man who courted me.”

She saw Amelia biting her tongue at the use of courted.

“But the whole thing is so new,” Emerson protested.

“Thursday night at the house. Let’s see.” Beatrice tapped her finger against her lips. “We’ll have a filet and use my mama’s china.”

“Honestly, Mama, no one does stuff like that. We’re eating dinner with some guy Em’s dating, not the Queen of England.”

“I think it’s nice to put a little effort into dinner. Makes a guest feel special.”

“I’m gonna throw up,” Emerson announced.

Her mother narrowed her eyes. But after a long moment, she acquiesced. “Fine. We’ll have chicken and dumplings.”

“Yes!” Amelia pumped her fist into the air. Beatrice Dewitt truly did make the best chicken and dumplings in town.

“I’ll even use our normal, everyday plates. Satisfied?” She arched an eyebrow in Emerson’s direction.

“But, Mama, this is all unnecessary.”

“However, we are definitely eating in the dining room. I will not compromise on that.” Her mother wasn’t listening. She was already in full-on planning mode, filling a void left after Amelia’s wedding.

“Seven o’clock, Emerson. Tell this Jack to be there. Amelia, come with me.” She snapped her fingers, and with a smile to Emerson, Amelia was following their mother. “Did you remember to change the bridesmaids’ dresses from pink to lavender for the Theez-Porter wedding?”

Emerson turned toward the door, feeling her heart once again beating much too quickly. She’d really done it now. If it wasn’t bad enough that she’d hooked up with a fake boyfriend, she’d gotten her fake boyfriend hooked up with her family.

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