Page 3 of Blindsided By Fake Love

My body tenses right before my heart sinks to my stomach.

Shaking my hand through my hair, I frantically search around for my phone and a room key. I need to get out of here and think about how I’m going to handle my current situation.

Walking quickly and quietly toward the door, I rub my chest to work away the tightness gathering when I look down.

Probably a good idea to put a shirt on first.

Chapter Two

Kit

MemoriesI’vepushedtothe deep recesses of my mind come back in full force. A dream that was so real I’m left with an ache. Thetouchof him. That scent of Obsession mixed with the essence that was purely Beau Matthews fills every one of my senses.

Gray eyes with that mischievous glint stare back at me, crinkling at the corner. The smile that tortured me as a girl and still makes my stomach swoop as a woman. Fingers running over full lips on that one summer night I thought they would finally be pressed against mine.

Movement next to me tries to pull me out of the dream I never want to wake up from. I fight against it. I want to stay right here, with this man, for as long as possible before I’m ripped back and have to deal with what happened yesterday.

“Kit.” The husky voice of the man I’m dreaming about seeps through my consciousness. Knowing I’m imagining it, I wave my hand to make whoever isnotBeau saying my name go away.

A gentle touch slides my hair off my face and the voice tries again. “Kit. It’s time to wake up.”

Blinking awake, the brightness of the morning light startles me, but not quite as much as the face and gray gaze I’ve been dreaming about watching me.

The sheepish, lopsided grin sends my pulse racing. I snap my eyes shut and blink hard for good measure before I open them again. When I do, I inspect the man standing over me.

“Beau?” His lips twitch, warmth spreading through me. I hesitantly reach out to touch him but stop myself. “Are you real?”

His rich chuckle runs through my body, sending chills down my spine. “Here.” He holds out a coffee to me. “I thought you might need a bit of caffeine after last night.”

“Last night?” I ask, pulling myself up; I take the cup of coffee and lean against the headboard.

“I just got you a regular latte since I have no idea what you like.” He shoves his hands into his jeans. “Heck, I’m not even sure you like coffee.”

“Cream or milk?” I say, bringing the cup to my mouth and sighing. “Cream. Good call.”

Lifting the cup again, I pause and turn toward Beau, who is still gazing down at me with a self-conscious expression. “How did you get in my room?”

“I think a better question is, how much do you remember about last night?” He pulls his bottom lip in with his teeth, his body moving up and down. I check out his feet to find him tapping the heel of one of them.

“Last night?” I echo. “Honestly, I don’t remember much after…”

I stop not wanting to tell anyone that Scott left me at the altar yesterday. After being engaged for years. Years. Not wanting to set a date, he suggests we come to Las Vegas andfinallyget married. It wasn’t my dream wedding by any means. But any wedding is better than no wedding, right?

Wrong.

Especially if the man you came here to marry tells you, in front of a room full of strangers, that he can’t go through with the wedding. That he isn’t even sure he ever really loved you and that proposing was a mistake.

A mistake?! Like he couldn’t tell me that in Starhaven?

Him calling off our engagement would’ve been embarrassing enough. But ending our relationship twenty-one hundred miles away in front of a room full of strangers? Humiliating.

“Do you remember…umm…calling out to me?” He questions, brows drawn together and jaw tight. I narrow my eyes and tilt my head, trying to figure out what he’s not saying.

Pressing a hand to my forehead, I wince only to groan at the pounding that ensues. “No,” I grumble. “I just remember not handling Scott leaving me at the altar so well.”

“I know.” I whip my head toward him, regretting the moment I do. His gaze is filled with a myriad of emotions that I can’t read. “I’m so sorry he did that to you, Christy.”

Turning from me, he walks toward the window. I can see his shoulders rise and fall as he exhales.

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