Page 22 of If You Give a Billionaire a Bride

“Hey, now,” Dylan playfully chides, his voice filled with amusement.

“I’m just messing around,” Marlow quips, using his own words against him.

Dylan chuckles. “Touché.” He takes Marlow’s hand, lacing his fingers with hers. She gives him a soft smile, and he looks at her like she’s his entire world. When Marlow came along, Dylan was a grumpy cynic whose primary focus was raising Lola and growing Stafford Holdings. She has brought light into his life and taught him how to smile again.

Even as a carefree, unattached bachelor, I often wonder what it would be like to look at someone the way Dylan looks at Marlow. My gaze drifts to Everly, who’s watching Marlow and Dylan’s interaction closely, chewing on her lip. Despite our less-than-ideal circumstances, I’m glad she’s here. It didn’t occur to me how much I missed her until I saw her sitting at that hotel bar in Vegas.

“Dylan, Cash, why are you all just standing around?” Harrison shouts from the yard. “The photographer is waiting.” He motions for us to get a move on.

“We’re coming,” Dylan hollers back.

“You ready for this?” I whisper in Everly’s ear.

“Do I have a choice?” she mutters.

“Nope.” I grin, taking her hand in mine as we follow Dylan and Marlow to join the rest of my family.

Two hours later, my cheeks hurt from smiling so much. Lani, the photographer my mom hired, isn’t messing around. She must have taken hundreds of photos by now, and I’m hoping she’ll wrap things up soon.

Everly has kept her distance despite Lani and my mother constantly encouraging us to stand closer together. She talked with my dad and siblings in between poses and tolerated my mom’s never-ending questions.

From my shameless eavesdropping, I’ve learned that Everly depends on coffee as her lifeline, works long hours, and is a décor enthusiast.

I’m the type to go with the flow and never sweat the small stuff, but even I’m left wondering how we can pull off a fake marriage. We couldn’t be more opposite if we tried.

I don’t own a coffee maker—I prefer protein shakes and smoothies. I’m usually the last one to arrive at the office in the morning. And let’s just say the décor in my London apartment is somewhat lacking.

“Cash, Everly, you’re up next,” my mom announces, breaking me out of my thoughts.

What is she talking about?

“For what?” Everly questions, mirroring my confusion.

“Couple photos,” my mom states like it’s obvious. “I have no pictures of your wedding, so this is the next best thing.” She clasps her hands together with anticipation.

“Come sit over here.” Lani motions toward a blanket she’s laid out, with several fruit trees and the barn in the background. “Everly, I’m going to have you take off your shoes, if that’s alright.”

“Okay,” Everly says, her voice filled with uncertainty.

She’s wearing a light blue spaghetti-strap dress. Her hair is styled in loose waves, and she has on a pair of open-toed heels.Even without advanced warning, she came ready to crush family photos.

She’s a goddamn vision. I can barely contain my fingers itching to reach out and draw her close to me, to feel the warmth of her skin against mine.

“I’m going inside to make dinner,” my mom announces. She turns to Marlow and my brothers, sitting on a nearby bench. “I could use some help.”

“Sure thing,” Marlow jumps up, pulling Dylan along with her.

“Have fun, you two,” Dylan calls out as they walk toward the house.

Harrison gives Everly a sympathetic look before he follows behind.

Presley and Jack disappeared inside thirty minutes ago, right after their photos. I don’t even want to guess what they’re doing.

My dad is playing with Lola, Waffles, and the puppies on the deck, and when my mom reaches the patio, she gestures for him and Lola to go inside too.

With everyone out of view, Everly exhales and her tense shoulders drop. I offer her my hand to help her down onto the blanket, but she shakes her head.

“I can do it on my own,” she says curtly.

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