Page 31 of The Fiance Dilemma

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” she asked when she reached us.

Matthew released my hand and went up on his feet. “Do you need to hold that? You’re standing right here.”

Bobbi put down the bullhorn she’d been using to order everyone around. “Happy?”

“Elated,” Matthew deadpanned. “Thank you.”

Bobbi rolled her eyes. “So? What exactly are you doing? Discussing the weather? Talking about the economy? The real estate market? All of the above? Because that would explain why all the pictures are giving off funeral, instead ofhappily engaged, yay.”

“Maybe—” Matthew started.

But Bobbi tsked. “Nuh-uh. We’re not postponing, and if we want to catch the sunset—and we do—you need to start acting morelovey-doveyand lessthe milk in my Pumpkin Spice Latte went sour.”She seemed to think of something. “Is that what’s happening? Do you need caffeine?” The bullhorn rose in the air. “ROBERTO. ROBERTO VASQUEZ?” She turned around in her heels. “THE ANGRY— OH, THERE YOU ARE. COFFEE. AND A MATCHA LATTE . PRONTO. THANK YOU.”

If looks could kill, Bobbi would already be six feet under Robbie Vasquez’s land.

She faced us. “WHERE WERE WE?”

Matthew snatched the bullhorn out of the woman’s hands and crossed his arms.

“Hey,” she complained. “That’s mine.”

“I’m doing you a favor,” he told her. “Believe me.”

“God, why is everyone in this town so touchy?” Bobbi huffed. “All right. Let’s regroup while Roberto gets to work on those drinks. The kneeling is not working, so… You, Josephine. You are going to stand there.” A perfectly manicured finger pointed at a fence. “And you, Matthew, are going to… Hm. Let me think.”

Bobbi pulled her phone out of the chest pocket of her tweed vest, as if that’s whatthinkingequated to, and started tapping away.

Matthew shifted by my side, his head and voice lowering. “Can’t wait to see the matcha latte Robbie brings her.”

His voice was amused, and that made me purse my lips in question. “Why?”

“If I were him, I’d definitely get creative with the ingredients.”

I snorted. “I don’t think he wasthatirked. He’s also a dad of two. A stand-up family man. A widower. He wouldn’t go around pranking anyone with drinks.”

“She told him how she loved that farmers would justwear anything,”Matthew countered, brows up. “And then proceeded to order him around his farm. With a bullhorn. That drink is arriving contaminated, sweetheart. ”

Sweetheart.I no longer knew how I felt about the way he let that “sweetheart” out so often. I wondered if he called everyone that. Usually people who used it like Matthew had did. “I think you need to call me something else,” I told him in a low voice. “Something other than ‘sweetheart.’ And should I be concerned about you going around town corrupting beverages? You do seem an expert on the topic.”

Matthew’s lips twitched, and for some reason, a mental image of a younger version of him, blond hair and mischievous smile, popped into my mind. I bet he was so much trouble. I bet he’d broken many hearts with those sweet brown eyes that made the hard angles in his face look soft. I wondered why he didn’t wear his glasses more often, too. His head went even lower, his chin almost reaching my shoulder. When he spoke, his voice was nothing but a rumble. “I hope to corrupt far more than beverages,sweetcheeks.”

“Sweetcheeks?” I whispered, my focus flicking between the sudden closeness of his face and his words. “Is that meant to… compliment my butt or my face?”

The chuckle that left him fell against my cheek. “I’m—”

“YAWN.”

We turned to look at Bobbi.

Her brows were bunched up in disbelief. “I was letting that go on in the hopes that the flirting would turn into dirty talk, so you’d get a little worked up and make this photoshoot a little less painful. But I’m bored out of my mind.”

Flirting.Flirting?

“We weren’t flirting,” I huffed out. A scoff left Matthew, and I decided to take that as a sign of agreement. Bobbi’s lips, however, tipped down in question. “I know what flirting looks like. Or how to flirt. I’m excellent at it. And that wasn’t it. Plus, if we were flirting, we wouldn’t do it with you right there.”

“I would,” Matthew said. I turned toward him, slowly, arching my brows. “I would.” He shrugged. “Even if my game seems to be a little off.”

I also decided to ignore how that sent a tiny flutter down my belly and returned my attention to Bobbi, whose lips were pursed in thought. She tapped her chin with a fingernail. “Are you open to something a little less country, alpine, outdoorsy, et cetera, and a little more boudoir?”

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