Page 12 of Bright Lights and Summer Nights

CHAPTER 7

PRESTON

“Come on, let’s get you home,” I tell Emma, carefully laying my hand on the small of her back.

Emma glares at me, adorably sticking her tongue out to show her displeasure. “Oh, but honey, I just got started telling everyone about our first date.”

“We can save the rest of the story for another time,” I assure her. Emma had just started telling my family about the first date we never had. Her story was getting a little too elaborate to seem believable, so I had to cut in. If she agrees to be my girlfriend for this week—which I hope she does—we’re going to have to go over a few things first. The first thing being how we met and some details about how we first started dating.

I might also have to tell her who I am and what I do for a living. She doesn’t seem to have a clue, but I feel bad leaving her in the dark, although it is refreshing for her to treat me like a normal human.

“Do you really have to go?” Peyton asks, her words slurring slightly. She adjusts her body in Jackson’s lap as she watches us both with sad eyes.

“Do we really have to go?” Emma whines, leaning into me and batting her eyelashes in my direction.

“Yes,” I clip, wrapping my arm around her waist to keep her next to me.

“Is it because it’s past your bedtime?” Emma teases, sharing a conspiratorial look with Peyton and Gram. “Are you about to get even grumpier?”

Gram laughs, throwing her head back and clapping her hands together. “Oh, Preston, I love her already!”

Even my mom presses a hand to her mouth as she tries to hide her smile.

Emma looks at me. Her cheeks are flushed from the drinks she’s had, and her lipstick has worn off, leaving a red ring on the outside of her lips. She’s absolutely breathtaking, but I keep that to myself. I’ve probably weirded her out enough by asking her to pretend to be my girlfriend. The last thing she needs from me is to throw unwanted compliments her way.

“Preston.” Emma draws out my name slowly. “Let’s just stay for two more minutes.”

I shake my head, guiding her forward. Leaning in, I place my lips to her ear, making sure none of my family can hear what I’m about to say. “We need to get a story straight before you tell them anything else.”

Her lips part, but she doesn’t say anything. All she does is nod, allowing me to guide her toward the exit.

“See you tomorrow!” Peyton calls, jumping off Jackson’s lap and throwing her arms around Emma’s neck. Emma steps backward once, attempting to stay steady on her feet as Peyton puts most of her body weight against her.

I keep a good grip on Emma, making sure the two of them don’t tumble to the ground.

“Will I see you tomorrow?” Peyton asks, focusing on Emma instead of me.

Emma turns around to look at me. “I think so,” she answers, watching me carefully.

I don’t say anything, hoping that’s true. Partly because I feel like it was a great idea to bring a fake girlfriend to the wedding festivities so everyone else will leave me alone but also because I think it’ll be fun to spend more time with her.

“Good night, everyone,” I call, hoping to actually make it out the door before someone else can stop us.

I’d rather go out the back door so we aren’t seen by anyone else at the club not attending the private party, but I’d foolishly parked in the front. As we walk down the hallway to the sound of voices drifting from one of the swanky club restaurants, I try not to think about how many people might still be there.

It’s almost two in the morning—surely it can’t be that busy. People here don’t recognize me the way they do back in Manhattan. Still, my publicist will have my ass if I’m seen escorting a tipsy woman to my car.

Keeping my head down, I quickly lead us through the halls of Pembroke Hills Country Club. A couple of times, Emma asks me to slow down, but I don’t listen to her until we’re at my car with no one around.

“This is your car?” she asks, looking at the convertible in front of us.

“It’s my rental for this week, so yes.”

Emma runs her hand along the cream-colored paint. “Is it fast?” she asks. Her blue eyes meet mine, and I have to look away, scared of getting lost in them if I allow myself to stare.

“You could say that,” I answer. The car is incredibly fast, but I haven’t had the chance to really put it to use—yet.

I reach for the door handle, opening the passenger door for her. Before she slides in, she turns around. “Are you sure you’re okay to drive?”

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