Page 17 of Falling for your Fake Boyfriend

I laughed nervously. “Bones? Like chicken bones?”

His long tooth stuck out like a razor from his grin. “Human bones.”

My arms flew up, and I hopped onto Luke’s back. My feet dangled, so he reached down and wrapped his hands around my legs to hold me in place, piggyback style.

The man grinned again and looked at us with eyes that matched those of the taxidermy ravens around the corner. “For an extra ten dollars each, I can show you a lampshade made out of human skin.”

I leaned forward, my mouth close to Luke’s ear. “Go,” I said calmly at first until the man moved closer. “Go! Go!”

Luke held my legs tightly, and I kept my arms around his neck like a winter scarf. He spun around, raced past the mermaid skeleton and the creepy, preserved creatures and out the shrunken head door. I squealed with adrenaline-filled laughter as he fumbled with and finally managed to open the front door. He trotted to the car with me on his back. I hopped off and we climbed inside, laughing so hard we could barely breathe.

“Man, oh man, I feel like I have to take a shower just to get those last few minutes off of me,” Luke said. He started the silent car engine with a push of a button, and we were off, traveling as fast and far away from the Morbid Curiosity Museum as his sleek, electric car could carry us. “I’m picking the next pit stop.”

“No arguments here.” I rested my head back and rolled my face in his direction without lifting my head from the headrest. “Do not tell your family about this. They’re going to think I’m nuts.”

“I say we both take this experience to the grave.”

“Thank you for letting me hide behind your back, and double thank you for carrying me out of the place.”

“It was my pleasure.”

As he said it, a feeling washed over me, it brought with it a touch of sadness. Amazingly, Luke seemed to notice.

“Everything all right?” he asked. How had his deep voice already become so entrenched in my soul?

I turned my head to stare out the side window. There were only two dogs in the dog park, and they were both having the time of their lives, barking and jumping on each other as they chased a ball. “I’m fine,” I said weakly. “It’s silly of me to worry about your family thinking of me as nuts.” I nearly stopped there, but Nonna had always taught us never to hold in sadness, even when it meant putting your most vulnerable self out there. I took a deep breath and turned back to him. “They don’t have to like me. I’m just a decoy—a live barrier put in place to keep your mom from steamrolling you with a blind wedding date.”

As I said it, his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. He had a great throat, too. “Isla,” he said quietly.

I forced a smile. “No, I know it, and I was just reminding myself of that. How about some banana chips?” I reached into the canvas bag. Another awkward silence followed, and I wondered if, for once in my life, I should have ignored Nonna’s advice.

ChapterEight

Luke

Chris Stapleton’s “Starting Over” hummed through the car speakers. I’d turned the music down low when I noticed Isla’s eyes drifting shut. She’d reclined her seat back to take a much-needed nap. It seemed her days were spent bouncing from job to job, and in between she experimented with recipes, so when her big dream of owning a bakery came true, she’d be ready to go.

I couldn’t stop thinking about what she said before she drifted off to sleep. It was true. I was paying her to be a barrier, a neat little excuse for why Mom couldn’t force her usual disastrous date choice on me. I should never have asked her to do this. What was I thinking?

The road in front of me was straight and boring. I drove past very few cars going the other direction. About the only exciting part of the drive was when I came upon a slow, rambling truck, and I had an excuse to push the pedal and pass it.

Isla mewled softly in her sleep. Her long lashes fluttered over her soft pink cheeks. She was nothing short of an angel, and I’d selfishly dragged her into my ridiculous scheme.

An unexpected bump in the road woke her with a jolt.

“Sorry,” I said. “Didn’t see the dip.”

She stretched out her elegant, thin arms and lifted them over her head before lowering them. A gasp followed as she reached for her mouth. “Was I drooling? Snoring? Talking gibberish?” She closed her eyes. “It’s all right. I can take it. Tell me just how bad it got.”

“You look like something dropped from heaven when you’re sleeping.”

There was that amazing blush again. Sometimes it seemed I was going out of my way to make it happen.

“You’re being kind. That’s all right. Don’t tell me.”

“Really, like a perfect angel.” I looked over at her. Our gazes had a tendency to smack into each other and then hold on, as if something magnetic was keeping them there.

Isla smiled. “If you wanted to nap, I could get behind the wheel if you trust me with your George Jetson mobile.”

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