Page 42 of Fake Engaged to the Enemy

“Hello,” I call as I hang up my purse and jacket.

George appears in the hallway. He grins at me. “You got all dolled up.”

“Ha! This isn’t dolled up. You’re just used to Sandburrow girls with their dollar-store makeup,” I shoot back.

“Is there something wrong with that?” He gives me a pointed look.

Ahh. Yes, that was rather shallow of me. “No. Only I’m not used to putting a bit of curl in my hair and swiping on extra mascara and calling it dolled up,” I admit.

“Just accept the compliment, Cat.”

Blushing, I nod. “Thank you.”

“Right. So I took your suggestion to heart. I have a hidden camera set up and I’m going to need the ring to surprise you with the proposal,” George says.

“Oh! Really?”

He winks at me. “Really.”

I slide the ring off my finger and hand it over. He tucks it into his pocket, and I wince.

“Don’t you have a box to put it in?”

“I do,” George says slowly. “But it’s got to be a surprise. You’re not allowed to see the box until the moment I propose.”

I shake my head. “This isn’t exactly how I want to be proposed to.”

“We agreed that I proposed during a quiet dinner for just the two of us,” George says, frowning.

“We did. It seemed like the simplest way.” I sigh. “I guess I’d just prefer to be sitting in front of a fire with a gentle rain pattering on the windows. Then as I’m falling asleep, I’m proposed to.”

George smiles. “I’ll remember that for next time.”

I laugh. Next time?

He leads me into the dining room. I’m about to tell him just to make sure not to lose the ring, but the sight that greets me drives it from my mind.

“Wow,” I breathe.

He’s gone all out.

A lacy tablecloth covers the table. Several tapering candles sit in the center, while even more candles line the back wall. The scent of juniper berries wafts toward me.

“This looks beautiful,” I say.

“Thanks. Take a seat and I’ll bring dinner out.”

I press my hands to the back of a chair. It’s all so beautiful that I’m not sure what to do. It certainly has all the elements of a romantic dinner.

George kisses my cheek softly. Oh! So we’re playing for the camera already.

He goes to pull out my chair and I wave him off. “No, no. I’m fine. I’d like to stand for a while anyway. It’s been a long day sitting down.”

Which is true. It’d also be true if I’d driven down to Sandburrow from the city.

George nods and heads into the kitchen.

I’m reminded that we’ll be showing this to his parents. So I call after him, “Are you sure you don’t need help with anything.”

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