Page 36 of Faking It with my Small Town Billionaire

It’s some consolation that Orson hasn’t met these people before, either. At least I’m not the late-comer friend who has to try to fit in with a close group. He hasn’t left my side, but I don’t get the feeling it has anything to do with the fact that we’re supposed to be newly married. In fact, it’s almost like he’s guarding me, protecting me, there for support more than anything else. It does give me some comfort, and as well as that, I think it’s rather sweet.

The next surprise comes when we sit down at the large oak dining table in a beautiful dining room. Tara sits with us while Jake remains standing. Clearly, I must look confused because Jake laughs at me. “I do the cooking in this house, Lily.”

I feel a blush rushing to my cheeks, but I’m saved from the spotlight when the other wives nod agreeably.

“Just the way it should be,” Wendy jokes.

“Can I take him home?” Phil says to Tara. This remark elicits a feigned look of offense from Peter, which has us all laughing.

“I think you’d bring him back pretty quickly,” Tara says with a grin. “He loves cooking, but hates the cleaning up afterward.”

“Which is why we have a dishwasher, darling,” Jake cuts in playfully.

As the meal gets underway, the conversation flows easily as I learn who does what, where they are from, how long they’ve been together, and all the usual topics that get discussed at dinner parties. At some point, Orson drapes his arm over my shoulder, like he said he would, and like I promised, I don’t jump out of my skin.

Something else happens instead.

He’s leaning in so close to me, and I can feel the heat from his body. I also get a whiff of that wonderful cologne he wears all the time. I usually smell it in the apartment or just after he’s finished in the bathroom. On those occasions, I’ve inhaled and enjoyed the musky scent of sandalwood and patchouli. Yes, I will admit, the sensation that catches in my chest is more than just appreciation of good quality cologne.

At this moment, however, my stomach is clenching, and I’m feeling heat spread through my body. It’s not just the wine and the laughter. It’s something far more dangerous.

I’m not a fool. I know we’ve already had shared moments. But there’s been nothing definitive. The crush I had for Orson in high school never really went away. I mean, it’s not like we were dating and then broke up. I always wondered what dating him might feel like, but I never had the courage to ask him out.

Jake makes a joke and Orson laughs, which doesn’t help at all. Apart from the fact that his laugh does something to my insides, I can also feel the reverberating energy flowing from his body into mine.

A part of me wants to excuse myself. For Orson, this is just a pathway to his inheritance, and I don’t want to get hurt. But my heart battles with my head, and in the end, my heart wins, and I stay put.

When dinner is over, we’re led out into the backyard. My eyes are wide once more as I take it all in. There’s a large dining set sitting on a concrete base in the middle of the lawn. At each corner of the square are four thick posts about eight feet high. Outdoor globe lights hang from one post to the other, segregating the whole area and bathing it in a soft glow.

“Oh, this is just beautiful,” I gasp.

“It took a lot of encouragement.” Tara smirks.

Jake cocks his head at me. “She means nagging, Lily. It took a lot of nagging.”

I’ve loved getting to know these couples over the course of the evening, but when I see Tara and Jake together—their playful banter, and yet utmost respect for each other—it gives me a warm feeling inside. Not the same warm feeling I get sitting next to Orson. That’s a completely different feeling altogether.

More beer and wine are consumed, though the drivers are all on either non-alcoholic beers or juice, and things get even more merry.

“Truth or dare,” Gary exclaims when the subject of games comes up. “Come on. We should do it. It’ll be fun.”

“You know you’re nearly thirty-eight years old, right?” Wendy exclaims.

“Who cares?” her husband replies cheerily.

One might think it’s the beer talking, but Gary isn’t even drinking.

Clearly, nobody needed much encouragement, and after lots of laughter and comments about feeling like teenagers, a beer bottle was placed on the table and the game got underway.

Once again, Orson has draped his arm around my shoulders, but after my third glass of wine, I’m rather enjoying his closeness. Who cares if my feelings for him are growing incrementally by the day?

You should.

Maybe. But not tonight. Tonight, I’m going to do exactly what my fake husband instructed me to do and just enjoy myself. Maybe I’m enjoying pretending Orson is my husband a little too much, but as I snuggle into him, I don’t care about that, either.

Jake spins the bottle again after Wendy, Gary, and Phil have all been put under the spotlight. I watch it spin, and eventually, it stops at Orson. I feel him heave a sigh and then chuckle.

“Play nice, Jake.”

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