How to Fake a Fiancé by Mallory Black

Author:Mallory Black [Black, Mallory]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Itty Bitty Creative, LLC

Chapter Twelve

Friday Evening, November 9

Dallas, TX

Ian

* * *

The fall evening air is cool against my face as I walk up the stairs to Kami’s front door. The threshold is lit by a single porch light to the upper right-hand corner of the red door.

I hold a small bouquet of vibrantly pink chrysanthemums as I adjust my black dress shirt. If there was anything other than flowers that I could give her to best convey how I feel, I would.

Taking a deep breath to calm my nerves, I knock and wait.

After I told Mom about Kami, word soon traveled fast within the family that I was finally dating again. I never expected everyone to not only be rooting for me, but to also offer to cover most of my shifts for the rest of the month so I could spend more time with her. Even when I told them I would be with her and her family for Thanksgiving, they were still happy for me.

Not even a minute later, I hear the door unlock and open with ease. Kami stands directly in my line of sight, looking more gorgeous than ever.

She’s stunning with her spiral curls pinned into a neat, large bun. A strand lays on the side of her delicate face. She wears silver hoop earrings while her slender neck is decorated with a small, simple, heart-shaped necklace. She wears a bright, hot pink dress that accentuates her breasts and small waist, shows off the curves of her hips, and falls just past her knees. Her feet are adorned with black heels with a bow at the toes.

My cock, on the drive over, was already hard just thinking about her. But having her stand in front of me turns it to steel.

“Hi there, gorgeous.” I smile.

“Hi.” She gives a half smile, taking notice of the flowers in my hand. “Are those for me?”

“Yes, ma’am.” I hand them to her.

“Thank you. I’ll put them in a vase, and then we can go.”

She holds the door open for me, and I walk inside. The place is clean with hints of a feminine touch throughout.

I follow her into the kitchen; she grabs a glass vase and a pair of scissors.

“I can cut the stems while you fill the vase with water,” I suggest.

She looks pleasantly surprised. “Sure.”

A few moments later, the freshly cut flowers are in their vase, standing proudly on the breakfast table.

“You didn’t have to help me,” she insists.

“I like being useful.” I shrug my shoulders.

“Well, thanks for your help. Mia will like them too since it brings color into the kitchen.”

I scan the rest of the open-concept apartment. The ambience is cozy, warm, and inviting. “You have a nice place here.”

“Thanks. You should have seen the place the other day. The amount of boxes Mia brought was insane.”

“I can’t imagine.” This easygoing conversation brings me back to when we first met. Casual yet engaging.

She grabs her black clutch and lace sweater, then walks over to the front door. “Shall we?”

I open the door for her, and she beams at me with an optimistic smile.

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