Page 7 of The Bad Wedding Date

“Charlotte. Charlotte Grant.”

“Pretty.” And I wasn’t sure if he meant my name specifically, or if he referred to the way I looked. Either way, I blushed, sure he caught it.

Fraser took his place beside me, his strong thighs brushing up against my dress, making my skin prickle. It had been such a long time since I’d reacted like this to… well… anyone. I’d barely known the guy for ten minutes.

The movement of the journey rocked us both from side to side, making our shoulders occasionally touch. Neither of us chose to slide away. As I turned to stare out of the window at the city whizzing by, I couldn’t help but wonder how it must feel for all those women out there who had someone like Fraser sitting beside them for every bad day they had to endure. How must it feel to have a strong shoulder to lean on when the world turned too fast? To enjoy the heat of someone else’s body every day when you felt so cold inside. To take on the world as a duo rather than alone.

How must it feel to have someone to go home to?

“Well, now I feel used,” Fraser muttered. I glanced up, and his eyes met mine. “It’s like you only ever wanted me for my name.”

“What else could I possibly want you for?”

“Stimulating conversation?”

“I’ve already spoken to you for longer than I’ve spoken to anyone for the last week unless you include the guy who sells me my wine every night.HimI speak to a lot because he’s very important to me. I need to keep on his good side.”

“So, youdouse people.”

“Needs must and all that.”

“A woman after my own heart.”

“I’d ask you who you use in life, but when you’re wearing a smile and a suit like that, I’m not sure I really want to know. I’ll make up a story about you in my own mind instead.”

He laughed lightly, the sound making my heart flutter.

“Probably for the best.” His voice was silky smooth and hellishly deep when he spoke, but those moments of lightness bouncing from his strong chest seemed like a contradiction I wanted to bathe in. He was soft without having it negate his obvious strength.

Whatever vision I was creating of him in my mind, I knew I’d be grateful for it later that night when I was all alone, tucked up in bed with nothing but my own hands to keep me company.

“Is this something you do to all the women of London, anyway?” I asked. “Pick them up at random bus stops, follow them around on their journeys, enticing conversation and a possibility of more from them before you swoop in and knock them over with your charm and wit?”

“Need I remind you, Miss Grant, that I was getting on this bus first. It was you who followed me.”

“Shit, you’re right. I’m the stalker in this scenario.”

“I didn’t like to say…”

“You said you weren’t a fan of small talk. Always call a spade a spade, Fraser. Life’s easier that way.”

“Okay, stalker. Should I be scared?”

“Absolutely terrified. I’m insane.”

“The best people usually are.”

I laughed just as my phone beeped in my purse again. It didn’t surprise me to see Jonah’s name on my screen when I pulled my phone out:

Jonah: Just let me know you’re okay, yeah? You’re always at your scariest when you’re quiet.

“You shouldn’t have ditched me then, should you, arsehole?”

“Someone seems keen to keep you talking,” Fraser said.

I sighed, eyeing the message, deciding not to reply. “Just friend trouble.”

“Friend?”

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