Page 5 of Curvy Love

He’s about my height, but that’s where the similarities end. He’s pale. Pale hair, pale skin, pale eyes. Even though it’s a Saturday, and he’s at a fucking food festival, the dude is dressed like he’s going to a photo shoot for a magazine catering to rich white guys. I mean I guess women probably find him attractive, but he just looks so bland, like white toast.

“I thought that was you, Laurel,” the man says.

His tone is polite, but his smile is friendly. The familiar way he looks at her, the way his gaze lingers on her face, makes me hate him instantly.

“Hey, Mark.” She clears her throat. “This is Alex.”

I keep one hand on her hip, while I put my hand out to the man. “Alex, I’m Laurel’s boyfriend. And you are?” I say.

“You have a boyfriend?” he asks Laurel, not bothering to shake my hand. But then it’s like he realizes what he’s done and grips my hand in a surprisingly firm handshake. So I’ll give him some points for that.

A leggy brunette who looks vaguely familiar comes up to him and slips under his arm, cuddling against him.

“There you are, darling,” he says.

She looks up and him and smiles, then looks over to us. Her eyes widen. “Hi Laurel.”

“Gwen.”

“Great, now that we all know each other, if you’ll excuse us,” I say, tugging on Laurel’s waist to move us closer to my taco truck. I want to protect her from whoever these people are.

“Wait,” Mark says. “Did you get the invitation, Laurel? It would really mean a lot to us, to me, if you were there.”

“I did get it,” she says, in a tone so falsely bright, even I can tell it’s forced, even though we’ve barely spoken. “I just didn’t know if Alex was free. He’s so busy with his taco truck. That’s why I hadn’t RSVP’d.”

“To what,muñeca?”

Even though I aim the question at Laurel, it’s Gwen that answers, her smile falsely cheerful.

“Our wedding. It’s this Saturday at the boathouse. You’re both more than welcome to come.” Gwen’s smile turns hard. “You and Mark were friends for so long,” she shoots a look at her fiancé, “It would mean so much to him.” Gwen looks at Laurel as she says that last part.

“You should definitely come,” Mark says. He shoots his thumb over his shoulder. “That’s your taco truck?”

“Si,” I say because I’m a cheeky bastard.

“I have lots of business contacts that will be at the wedding. It could be a great networking opportunity for you,” Mark says.

Gwen frowns a little, but manages to force a smile.

I squeeze Laurel to me. “We’ll be there.”

Mark smiles and it seems genuine enough, but hell, I don’t know him. I barely know Laurel. I do know this though, I want to get to know her and if she needs a date to her ex’s wedding, I’m down for it, even if it means pretending to be her boyfriend at a wedding. I’ve done a lot of impulsive shit in my life. Most of the time it turns out fine. I’m hoping this is one of the times it turns out fucking fantastic.

The couple walks off with promises to catch up with us at the reception.

Laurel turns to me, eyes wide. “Ugh. I’m sorry that was so weird. Thanks for pretending. And for that kiss. Wow, that was almost as good as your tacos.”

I laugh because that’s just fucking hilarious.

“Yeah, so thanks again. Have a great life.”

I catch her rolling her eyes as she turns away, but I snag her elbow. “No, slow down there. I said we’d be at the wedding and we’ll be there.”

“Oh, no, that’s unnecessary. I appreciate you helping me save face, but I can’t ask you to pretend to be my boyfriend at my ex-boyfriend’s wedding.”

“You didn’t ask, I offered.” I grab her hand and give it a squeeze. “And unless you are morally opposed to holding my hand for an evening, then I’m not taking no for an answer.”

She gives me a shy smile. “I’m not morally opposed.”

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