Page 26 of Finally Moore

“Believe me.” Scott chuckles. “For you, Jax’ll make time.”

I pat Scott on the shoulder. “Excuse my fiancé. He and his best friend happen to be your biggest fans.”

“Is that so?” Kasey uses his million-dollar, Hollywood smile. One thing I’ll give my ex credit for is how much he loves his fans. He never gets annoyed when someone asks for a photo or autograph. He’s one of those few genuine stars, who does charity and public appearances because he wants to and not because his publicist tells him it’s good for his image. “Well, in that case, I won’t take no for an answer.”

“Jax is going to die.” Scott immediately texts Tilly’s husband with the news. I can already hear the high-pitched squeal Jax is probably going to make when he reads it.

A few minutes later, our dinner is served. My mom clearly found the fanciest place she could in Southern Minnesota as they deliver each plate on a silver platter with a matching lid. It’s effective, though, because when they lift the cover and reveal our dishes, the steamy aroma is mouthwatering.

Scott pulls out his phone and snaps photos of the table. “Sorry… I promise I’m not posting them on social media or anything. Just adding to my folder of food porn.” Trisha frowns as Brittany giggles behind her napkin. “I mean… of foodinspiration,” Scott corrects himself.

My short rib is fork tender as I collect a bite. The juices explode on my tongue and a moan escapes my lips. “This is so good.” I gather another bite and present it to Scott. “You have to try this.”

His eyes lock with mine as he wraps his lips around the utensil, and my clit throbs as I imagine him savoring me the same way he is the meal. My thighs clench tightly as Scott’s eyes roll to the back of his head.

“That’s incredible,” he moans. “Here.” He grabs his spoon and scoops up a serving of the mashed potatoes. “What do you think?”

“Oh my god, they’re so good and silky smooth. I could bathe in them.”

“I know, right?” Scott takes another mouthful. “I’m going to have to figure out this recipe and add it to the menu.”

Mom clears her throat, pulling my focus to her. Based on the awkwardness on the other side of the table, our enjoyment over the delicious food might have reached a pornographic level. Well, everyone but my niece seems to think so anyway. Brittany has the largest smile on her face as she devours her mac and cheese, oblivious to the adult content.

“I forgot how large the portions are in Minnesota,” my mom says in that tone that implies she’s trying to sound polite but is actually insulting. “Perhaps we should share my salad?”

I look between my delicious tender ribs and her boring, albeit more than likely very tasty, grilled chicken salad. Not that I don’t like a good bed of greens—growing up in Cali, it was a staple meal. But right now, my body is craving red meat and those sinful mashed potatoes.

“As a bride-to-be, don’t you think you should focus on fitting into your wedding gown?” Mom leans over the table to whisper. Which is pointless since everyone can hear her. “No reputable designer will do an expanded waistline.”

“Oh… I mean…” I stutter. She’s right. Even if I’m not getting married anytime soon, meals like this—and the daily muffin and sugar with a dash of coffee—haven’t been the best for my figure. I’m about to concede and accept her plate when Scott scoops up another serving of potatoes and steak.

“Here, try them mixed together.” He puts the food in my face and I’m too weak to resist.God, it’s so delicious.“Oops,” he says as he wipes the corner of my mouth with his thumb. Then Scott pins me with that intense stare of his as he sucks the digit clean. “It’s perfect,” he groans. “Just like you.” He reaches over and pushes my mother’s salad back. The entire time, he doesn’t take his eyes off me. “She doesn’t need to change her dinner.” Unlike my mom, Scott doesn’t pretend to lower his voice. “No matter what she decides to wear, I know Scarlett will be the most beautiful bride in the world.”

Mom huffs out her displeasure but doesn’t bring it up again. As dinner and conversation resume, mostly between my ex and fake fiancé, I sit here a bit dazed and confused. I know he’s just playing his role and doing what I asked of him. But I wish he wasn’t. Never has anyone ever treated me like this, not evenMister Romancesitting across from us at the table. Not that Kasey treated me poorly. It was just never…this.

I have to remind myselfthisis all fake, which is the only place men like Scott Moore (or rather this version of him) actually exist—in fiction. Still, for this one brief moment, I’d give anything for it to be real.

“More wine, miss?” a server asks me.

I pick up my glass and chug back the half that remains. “Yes, please,” I reply with a forced smile. Because I have a feeling I’m going to need all the alcohol I can get.

Chapter eleven

Scott

“You’reincredible,”Scarlettslursas I help her make her way to the little cabin by the inn. Since it’s down the path a bit, we can’t park directly in front of the door. Thankfully the walkway’s been shoveled, but I’m still afraid she’ll break her neck trying to make it back on her own in these heeled boots. “Like super incredible.”

The evening went well enough, but after the “salad incident” with her mom, my fake fiancée seemed to prefer a liquid dinner over a more solid one. Scarlett always appears so perfect and put together, never shy when it comes to showing off her curvy figure with fitted blouses and hip-hugging jeans that highlight her voluptuous ass. Until her mother showed up in town and somehow overshadowed all the confidence she typically exudes.

“Do you need a hand?” Kasey offers as they exit their rental car. Hisrealfiancée frowns for the hundredth time tonight. At this point, I’m convinced that Trisha isn’t capable of making an expression that doesn’t resemble someone sucking on a sour lemon.

“He’s all I need.” Scarlett’s finger traces over my chest as she continues her drunken rambling.

“No, thanks, but I’ve got her.” I wave him off. As much as I appreciate the gesture, I have things under control. “Besides, it looks like someone needs your help more.” I gesture to the little girl sleeping in the back seat.

Kasey laughs. “I swear that kid can sleep through anything.” He proceeds to pick her up to demonstrate his point. Brittany doesn’t stir in the slightest. “Goodnight, you two,” he calls over his shoulder as he turns toward the main building.

“Take care, lovebirds,” Scarlett’s mom shouts in our direction, oblivious to the effect her comments have on her daughter. Or perhaps she knows and just doesn’t care?

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