Page 73 of The Billionaire Boss and the Barista

Georgia wrinkled her nose. “I know. You’ll get used to it.”

She helped fix her hair into a cute half-updo, applying makeup with more skill than Emma possessed.

When she was done, Emma barely recognized herself. “I have never looked this nice,” she said, smoothing the skirt of the dress. “Well, that I know of.”

Had she ever stood before a mirror all dolled up, anticipating a date with a hot guy? Wouldn’t it be sad if the answer was no?

“Plus, it’s not a date,” she muttered under her breath. She was getting fake married for the sole purpose of securing health insurance.

Emma had a feeling she would need to remind herself of that fact quite a bit in the coming months. Being around Garrett meant blurring lines. Only, she couldn’t tell which one of them was doing it.

“Are you ready?” Georgia asked.

Emma took one last look at herself in the mirror. “Hell no.”

But she followed her friend out the door and got married anyway.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

GARRETT

He took the breakfast plates out of the warmer, bracing himself for the sight of Emma in herDe Ollagear.

They had been married a week, and she was still working at the coffee kiosk.

Things weren’t going to change overnight, he reminded himself. Baby steps. He closed his eyes, cursing because now he was imagining Emma pregnant with his baby.

“Fuck,” he muttered, setting the plate on the counter with more force than was necessary. This was turning into a major problem.

Garrett prided himself on always having his shit together. Even during his post-divorce party days, he’d never gotten sloppy drunk. As for drugs, he avoided them like the plague these days, having learned the hard way never to relinquish control of the reins.

But that was before Emma. His life began to careen out of control the moment he first saw her in the café. His head had been a mess from then on. But after watching Emma walk toward him in that white dress, he’d been done. Stick a fork in him done.

Garrett had instructed his clothing buyer to find something tasteful that worked for a wedding but wasn’t a formal bridal gown.

They’d sent him a picture of a knee-length lacy number straight outof the fifties. He’d approved the retro look because it was sufficiently casual.

Trust Emma to transform a simple dress into a religious experience.

It wasn’t her fault. Her curves turned even the simplest of silhouettes into showstoppers.

But having such a flamboyantly sexy woman living with and now married to him was like a trial by fire. At the very least he should have to pay a fine when he stared too long. And he’d stared way too fucking long when Emma stepped out of her room in the dress.

Fortunately for him, his bride had been too nervous about getting married to notice. Hell, she’d been terrified, and he knew it. So had everyone else.

Elias had been so taken with Emma that he’d taken him aside to ask if he thought getting married right then was a good idea.

“Maybe if you give her a couple of days she won’t look so freaked out,” his friend had muttered as the justice of the peace freshened up before the ceremony.

The words had sounded kind and protective, up until the point Elias had straightened his sports coat and run a hand through his hair. “That way she has a chance to look around and weigh her options.”

Garrett had mock-punched Elias a little too hard in response. He knew Elias had been joking, but he hadn’t wasted any more time. He’d hustled Emma in front of the justice of the peace a few minutes later.

Emma had been shell-shocked during the brief ceremony, which was why Garrett had kept their vows to a simpleI do. Fortunately, Emma had recovered somewhat by dinner when they were eating Mohammed’s exquisite duck tajine, the one with the figs and apricots she loved.

The flowing wine hadn’t hurt either, although he’d made sure she hadn’t taken any serious medication beforehand.

“I liked your friend Elias,” Emma told him at the end of the night, once everyone had gone home. “Are the rest like him and Rainer?”

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