Page 41 of Love You Truly

“I’m ready for a cocktail, so that’s where we’re going first.”

We make our way to the bar, and I grab two glasses of wine without asking Mallory whether she’d like red or white. She accepts the glass of red without comment and takes a large sip. It’s the only evidence that she may be the least bit nervous about our act tonight.

I’m impressed at her calm under pressure.

“You’re gorgeous. Like jaw-dropping, head-turning, I’m-the-luckiest-guy-in-the-room gorgeous.” It’s the truth, and I realize she’s making it very easy to play my role.

“Aw, you’re sweet.” Her voice sounds as silky as her dress.

“I’m not being sweet. I’m being honest. You’re the most stunning woman in the room, which makes me the luckiest man in the room.” We’re within earshot of everyone at the bar, and a few heads turn. A few people smile and pretend they’re not surprised to see us together.

Mallory’s eyelashes flutter, and a flush rises on her cheeks. I’m impressed that she can do that on cue.

Or maybe… For a second, I allow myself to imagine that she might feel a shred of something real. Just as quickly, I banish the thought.

Once we’ve clinked glasses and given the people near the bar something to gossip about, I steer Mallory to a quieter area of the room, keeping my hand on the small of her back.

“That was easy.” She glances behind, and her hair flips over her shoulder, the glossy curls bouncing and tantalizing me with that jasmine scent. “By the end of tonight, everyone here will know we’re dating.”

“No.” I lean in and whisper near her ear so there’s no chance of misinterpretation. “After tonight, everyone here will know you’re mine.”

I feel her quiver beneath my hand on a shaky inhale.

Good.

She brings her glass to her lips. When they part, I want to run my tongue over her plump bottom lip, but instead, I watch as she takes an unsteady sip. I’m glad I’ve thrown her off her game. She deserves it after showing up looking like a goddess who takes my fucking breath away.

Being near her, my skin buzzes and I have to remind myself to breathe. I need to know she’s not immune to me, and it has nothing to do with convincing other people we’re a couple.

I run a hand down the smooth skin of her arm. “Now the pressure’s off. We can just enjoy the night and drink our drinks.” I try for a carefree tone, but I’m lying through my teeth. I’m two drinks ahead of her, and it’s done nothing to take off the pressure I feel to get everything right tonight.

When my hand reaches her wrist, I brush my fingertips against the soft skin where her pulse beats rapidly. Her head tips against my shoulder, but then she seems to recover her composure, shaking her head.

“Come this way,” she says, moving gracefully ahead of me to greet an elderly winemaker whose property is adjacent to Autumn Lake. She kisses him on the cheek and puts a hand on the arm of his dark suit. “Gene, you know my fiancé, Dash Corbett?”

The older man smooths a hand over his full head of white hair and peeks at me over the reading glasses he’s using to glance through the auction catalog. In his navy suit, he looks slightly bored, like he’s been to a hundred of these events. This is why we need to get Buttercup Hill back on track. I don’t want to be sweating it out in a suit thirty years from now because we need to make nice with everyone in town.

He extends his hand. “Gene Bradbury. From Bradbury Acres. Congratulations, Mallory. I didn’t know.”

“And I didn’t know you were producing Shiraz. It’s an incredible vintage,” she says, putting a hand on his shoulder. This is the Mallory I know, able to work a room and make everyone in it feel special.

“It’s already the talk of the town. It’s a new bar for the rest of us,” I say. He’ll hear it ten more times tonight, partly because he makes good wine but also because this is a feel-good event designed to make everyone want to be generous and donate to the new theater.

“You’re kind. I could say the same about your Cabs, but you already knew that. Buttercup is legendary. I knew your father back when we were both starting out. He here?”

I shake my head. “No, he doesn’t come to these things anymore, now that he has all of us running the winery. He’s enjoying his golden years.”

“Smart man. Traveling?”

I nod because I’m not about to admit that my father has Alzheimer’s when it’s still not public knowledge, but it drives home the fact that my father isn’t enjoying his golden years on an exotic trip.

Mallory chats with Gene for a few minutes more and I disappear into my head, thinking about my dad and wondering how he’d feel about me entering into a fake marriage in order to fix some of his mistakes. The man who found fault with all of my lazy teenage ways would probably chalk it up to one more irresponsible idea of mine.

When Gene moves off to talk to someone else, Mallory pins me with a stare. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Why?”

She continues to fix me with the steely gray of her eyes, and I take the opportunity to look at them. Even in the dim light of the event space, they’re luminous, a blue-gray that makes me want to keep looking into their depths.

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