Lucky This Isn't Real: MacBride Brothers Series St. Patrick's Day Fake Fiance Romance by Jamie Knight (digital e reader .TXT) 📕

stepsister, who then stabbed her in the back. The bitch had been sleeping with Kenny, which is why I now referred to him as “the asshole” in my head.

It all ended up working out okay, since that was how Maggie had met Gavin, and now they were having their happily ever after. Still, it was a hard time for her to go through and I was glad I could help. I had been by her side ever since, first as her roommate, then as her co-worker, once I got my job to hire her on as an assistant, and now as her best friend and maid of honor.

“What do you think?” she asked.

“I can’t think of anything I’d want to do more than dance the night away with you.”

Well, that and this one other thing… I thought but didn’t add.

I looked to the door one last time, wishing I could see Sean again but also knowing my duty to my friend. Her asking to go out with the group was a big deal and it was one that I fully intended to support.

There will always be the actual wedding at which I can see Sean again, I reminded myself, despite wishing the timing of his phone call hadn’t been so bad.

Perhaps we might have exchanged numbers before he got pulled away.

Maybe I should have been more forward.

But it was time to stop second-guessing myself when Maggie stood up and grabbed ahold of my hand.

“Okay, great. Let’s go then?” she asked.

“Yes. Let’s go right now!” I told her. “After all, your perfect bachelorette party is waiting.”

“Albeit a very spontaneous and last minute one,” she said.

“Those are the best kinds!” I told her. “Just like all things in life.”

Just like literally running into the man of your dreams— or, rather, being run into by him— because he’s walking the wrong way during your best friend’s wedding rehearsal.

Chapter Two - Darcy

I thought about going home and changing before we went out, but everyone wanted to get started right away, formal wear notwithstanding.

I was definitely going to need my coat. Otherwise, my boobs would end up as the main attraction.

I didn’t like to show off, and I might distract attention away from Maggie, which just wouldn’t do. As it turned out, though, I didn’t need to worry. Ciara was enough of a showboat for all of us.

“Fuck me, I’m Irish!” she called alluringly to no one in particular from the car window.

“Ciara!” Maggie objected, blushing.

“What?” Ciara asked, dropping back onto her seat. “Is that not a tradition to yell out on St. Patrick’s Day here? I thought I’d heard that on American television.”

“Usually it’s ‘kiss me, I’m Irish,’” I explained.

“And is usually only said on St. Patrick’s Day proper, not the night before,” Nicole added.

“Oh, I see,” she said, but instead of looking embarrassed at her mistake, Ciara only looked disappointed. “How very boring.”

I smiled and was beginning to think I loved her.

“On the upside, it sounded more like ‘fok’ than ‘fuck,’ so most probably didn’t know quite what you said, except maybe by context,” Amy pointed out helpfully.

I could tell Ciara was going to be a handful, particularly after she’d had a few, but I was kind of looking forward to seeing what kind of shenanigans she would get up to. The night might actually be fun, despite the lack of Sean.

He’d done pretty well at keeping a lid on Ciara at the church and rehearsal dinner, like an older brother with an unruly little sister. I got the strong impression that she didn’t want to disappoint or embarrass the MacBride brothers despite her natural instincts toward mischief, which helped Sean be a calming influence.

He wasn’t with us anymore, though, and Ciara was really letting loose. I could only imagine where the night might end up.

“You gotta be taking the piss,” Ciara intoned gravely, gazing at the neon shamrock outside McGinty’s Authentic Irish pub.

“It’s authentic,” Amy said, trying to be positive.

“Aye, as a three-dollar bill.”

“The drinks are real,” Nicole tried.

Ciara made a face.

“We’ll see about that.”

The car pulled up to the curb, and we all got out. Ciara marched toward the pub like Queen Boudica going to meet the Roman legions, an aura of steely defiance radiating from her slight form.

The place was packed, and the line to get served was at least five people deep.

“Five shots of Glenfiddich,” Ciara was saying as we joined her at the bar.

“Thanks,” Maggie said.

“Those are for me,” Ciara said. “What are you all having?”

There was a moment of silent contemplation before we placed our orders, Ciara paying for all of us. She downed her five shots and ordering five more before the rest of our drinks even arrived. I had to admire her dedication but wondered how she’d feel in the morning.

“Wow,” Amy said, in true awe.

“Practice,” Ciara told her, with a wink.

I had no doubt practice was part of it, but there also must have been some element of natural aptitude for a girl Ciara’s size to knock back that much scotch and not even slur her speech.

“Courtesy of Gavin,” Ciara said, paying for another round.

“How did he know about this?” Maggie asked. “I just decided myself about half an hour ago.”

“Lucky guess, I suppose. He’s pretty cool that way. Plus, he knows his bride-to-be. He gave me the dough while we were still back at the church and said to pay for everything.”

Love filled Maggie’s eyes.

“Oh, I adore him so much!”

“Shall we celebrate with Jell-O shots?” I asked.

“I like how you think,” Nicole said.

Ciara slapped her hand against the counter.

“A tray of Jell-O shots, please, lime.”

As the jiggling green cups of goodness arrived, I got the