Page 10 of Bright Lights and Summer Nights

“Mind if I have a moment with Emma alone?” Preston asks, cutting in. His large, warm hand moves to the small of my back. It almost feels possessive, and I try not to focus on the fact that I don’t hate it. I would’ve loved the feeling of the warmth of his palm through the thin fabric of my dress if I didn’t have to lie to his family about being his girlfriend.

Gram smiles wide. She winks before giving a nod of approval. “I remember those days. Your grandfather used to be very eager to get me alone as well.”

I blush, and I’m fairly confident Preston blushes, too. Peyton is the only one seemingly unbothered by Gram’s crude words.

Preston clears his throat, his fingers twitching against my back uncomfortably. “Oh, it’s just to talk, Gram. Promise.”

“You don’t have to lie to me about funny business. I get it,” she quips. I’d find her absolutely hilarious if I wasn’t being roped into lying to her.

Before I can say anything, Preston is leading me out of the large room. His fingers are strong around my wrist as he tries to find us somewhere private to talk. Eventually, he leads us into what seems to be a coat closet, but one that isn’t in use due to the warm weather outside.

As soon as the door shuts, my hands find my hips. “Preston, I want out of this lie. Now.”

He nods, threading his fingers together and placing them behind his neck. “I know. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to drag you into this.”

“Then let me out. I’ll just sneak out the back door—you can tell everyone we got in a fight, and I won’t have to look your grandmother in the eye again and pretend to be in love with you.”

He narrows his eyes on me, his biceps tightening. Is that a tattoo on his wrist? I want to take a step closer to see if I’m imagining it because I’ve always been a sucker for a man with tattoos. He didn’t strike me as someone who’d have them, but I swear there’s something peeking out from underneath his fancy watch.

“No,” he states calmly, breaking me from my concentration on trying to figure out if he’s got tattoos or not.

“Yes,” I counter. He can’t force me to stay. He’s lucky that I even went along with his silly plan to begin with.

“My family would never believe me if I told them we got in a fight and you left.”

“Why? They don’t even know me.”

“What plans do you have this week?” he asks, completely ignoring my question.

I take a step back, wanting as much space between us as possible because the tension in the air is thick, and right now, I’m really annoyed with him. “Plans that do not involve other people. I want to be alone.”

He frowns. “Who comes to the Hamptons to be alone?”

I huff, folding my arms across my chest. “If you must know, people who have no idea what they’re doing with their life and are in the midst of a quarter-life crisis.”

This makes him smile. He tries to hide it by turning his head, but he fails miserably. “So, it sounds like you don’t have any plans at all, then. Perfect. You now have plans with me.”

My jaw flies open. The audacity of this man. I’m not sure if his arrogance is extremely attractive or a blaring red flag. Maybe it’s a little bit of both.

“I do not have plans with you. I have plans with myself.”

“How long are you here for?” he prods.

I purse my lips, annoyed he keeps asking me questions instead of letting me out of this whole charade. “It doesn’t matter. After tonight, you won’t see me again.”

“Answer the question, Emma.”

I swallow, trying not to give him a reaction to the demanding tone of his voice. God, why is it so sexy?

“I’m here for the summer. No set timeline. Until I have to find a new job or figure out what I want to do with my life.”

“You have the rest of this summer to figure your life out. Spend this week pretending to be my girlfriend, and then we’ll go our separate ways. You can discover yourself, and I can tell my family my schedule got too busy and we didn’t work out.”

“Too busy to have a girlfriend?” I ask sarcastically.

He lifts a shoulder. “Something like that.”

I want to ask him what he could possibly do for his family to think he’s too busy for a relationship, but I bite my tongue. It doesn’t matter. As hot and charming as Preston is, I still don’t want to spend my week pretending to be his girlfriend.

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