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

here and there, but blemishes just come from life. The scars on my legs didn’t look all the bad. Maybe I was the only one who really noticed.

Scouring my closet for something to wear was quite an expedition. I needed to look sexy but not too eager. I wasn’t going to blow him in the parking lot but wouldn’t say no if he wanted to take things further later.

I settled on a pretty blue dress I had made last year using an original pattern from the 1950s. It was flirty and fun and perfect for our date.

Changing into a fresh set of pink silk underwear, I stepped into the dress, which was a bit more of a production than I remembered. The jury was still out on my legs, but the dress did great things for my tits.

I would probably scream if I saw a pair of high heels again, after having worn them for most of the day, so they were out. The only other shoes I had that would work were a pair of cherry red Chuck Taylors. I’d only worn them a couple of times, so they still looked new. Bold and uncomplicated, cool and young. I was once told by a self-appointed dictator of style that the only color of Chucks someone over 30 could wear was white. I wasn’t 30 yet, and anyway, stuff that noise.

My outfit was far from orthodox, but I couldn’t deny I looked good. I was a combination of the girl I was and the woman I was becoming, still feeling very stuck in the middle. Always very me, which was exactly what I wanted to be, even if I was still trying to figure out who that was.

The butterflies in my belly were a flutter as I parked. It was my first date in what felt like forever, and I was in no way convinced I would know what to do. There were definite conventions around courtship. The only problem was they kept changing.

Sean already knew about my family and my history as a socialite, so there wasn’t really anything to hide from him. He had been similarly candid about his past. Particularly about his father. All of our skeletons were out of the closet and doing parades. There was nothing to hide, and it felt freeing. We could both just be ourselves and see if we liked who the other was. The real fear was rooted in the answer, which could still be no.

I saw him immediately. Dressed in a plain black suit and white shirt with no tie. He’d made even the green tux at the wedding look good but looked even better in his own clothes. Even the jeans and sweater he’d worn last night. He just couldn’t help but look classy.

He stood to meet me, looking almost as nervous as I felt, still putting a hand on my hip as we kissed in greeting. Not a casual peck on the cheek either. It was a full-on smooch on the mouth, tender and intimate but also with a level of chaste innocence appropriate to the surroundings. People were trying to eat, after all.

The change was immediate, all tension and nervousness melting away to a familiar comfort like we’d had at the wedding. An unspoken understanding drawing us together in our desire for each other. Not just on a physical level, but in all ways. I’d never put much stock in the notion of ‘soulmates,’ but if biofeedback and empathic reading were real, I supposed anything was possible. There was ample anecdotal evidence for me to draw on. Most of it, from my own experience, but it still counted. I seemed to remember Maggie telling me about a similar reaction to Gavin.

“How long are you here?” I asked, our fingers laced beneath the table.

“Three weeks. Why come all this way and not make the most of it? But I’ve been here for a few days already.” He looked almost apologetic

“Wow! Can’t believe you got that much time off. Will everything be okay at work?”

“Oh yeah, Dunc and my brother Jim can handle things.”

“Dunc?”

“Duncan, my business partner. The one who got food poisoning. I have complete confidence in both him and my brother. There are also advantages to being my own boss, despite some of the stresses.”

No sooner had he mentioned stress than the whole pack of Ashtons came in through the door. I’d chosen the restaurant on purpose because I didn’t think they would ever go there, and I just wanted to have a nice time with Sean. They must have decided to slum it. Not a term I would use for a mid-level bar and grill, but certainly one they would. It could be hard to keep a hold on perspective when one made $50 million a year like Harry did. No doubt the other reason why daddy wanted me to marry him. So Harry could ‘take care’ of me

“What’s wrong?” Sean asked, immediately sensing my discomfort.

“The Ashtons are here.”

“As in Harry Ashton?”

“Darcy!” Harry called.

I wanted to hide under the table, but it was too late. He’d already seen me, and there was no chance of escape. If it had just been Harry, it would have been better. At least I could have handled it, but he was there with his parents. It seemed a bit odd, him being in his early 40s and all, but it was kind of nice they still had a good relationship. Even if his mother did make me question what I’d always been taught about the existence of a benevolent God. As far as I could tell, if there was a God, Mrs. Ashton worked for the other side.

“Hello, Mr. Ashton, Mrs. Ashton. Harry.”

To his credit, Harry didn’t look comfortable either. His mother had a tendency to take over any room she was in, often to the