Fakers

by Meg Collett

  “John Wilson.” He holds out his hand to shake mine, but I just glance at it before my gaze meets his again. It really is a shame I’m about to tell this guy off because he has the most gorgeous brown eyes. Eyes that look like they could bore inside of me and find out all of my deep dark secrets. Not that I have many, but if I did. “I’m sorry for your loss.” He clears his throat and frowns slightly.

  “You knew my grandfather?”

  He smiles faintly. “Yeah. I knew Bud. He was a good man.”

  My heart squeezes with his words. Daddy Bud was the best of men. Either way, the suit doesn’t know me and shouldn’t be telling me how the town thinks I’ll go ‘crazy.’ “Well Mr. Wilson, I appreciate your concern, but my personal business is none of your business,” I say, saucily. Oh yeah, I’m officially drunk. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to go work on going mental.”

  I slide off the barstool and he says, “I didn’t say I agreed with them.”

  Spinning around, I narrow my eyes at him. “Why are you talking to me?”

  “You look…lost. I’ve been there,” he says seriously as he stares down at me. I’m not sure what his expression means, but he looks almost…understanding?

  “Lost? And what? You can show me the way, Mr. Wilson?” Why’d I say that? Because he looks like trouble. Sexy, sophisticated, make my toes curl in ecstasy sort of—trouble. I don’t need that kind of stress in my life. I’m almost positive he’s coming on to me, so my response seems appropriate. He looks like the kind of guy that loves women, gets them easily, and lets them go just as fast. When he doesn’t respond, I continue to tell him off in my belligerent state. “I’m not the type of woman that needs to be ‘shown the way,’ but I’m sure any of the other ladies in here might bite if you baited them with that line.” God, I’m so clever. Stupid man thinking he can just breeze into town and pick me up when I’m sad and vulnerable and charm me with his big city sexiness.

  “Clearly you have it all figured out,” he responds and smirks, and I hate how sexy he looks. “It was lovely to meet you, Edie.” He takes my hand where it sits by my side and kisses it.

  I stare at him blankly, the skin on my hand prickling from where his lips just touched it.

  “Is there a problem here, Edie?” Earl asks as he slides my pitcher of beer across the bar to me.

  I finally tear my gaze away from the incredibly sexy man in front of me and answer, “No, Earl. Just a friendly conversation that’s now over. Have a lovely evening, Mr. Wilson.” With a cheeky smile, I take the pitcher and head back to my table. The skin on my hand where his lips brushed burns, but in a good way—or a really bad way, depending on how you look at it.

  “Who was that?” Nikki asks, staring at the suit as I slide into my seat.

  “He knew Daddy Bud,” I whisper.

  “That’s a fine piece of man.” Nikki nods approvingly.

  “Stop looking at him! You’re being obvious,” I hiss at her.

  “He wouldn’t notice,” Dierk adds. “He’s too busy staring at you, Edie.”

  With that, I glance back to the suit and our eyes lock. Heat covers my face and I jerk my eyes away.

  “Looks kind of prissy to me,” Joey snorts.

  “If by ‘prissy’ you mean could fuck any girl in this bar if he chose to do so, then yes, he looks prissy,” Nikki teases, her blue eyes still honing on the suit.

  “That’s exactly what I meant,” Joey says dryly. “That guy looks so fuckable,” he says in mock falsetto.

  We all laugh as I fill my pint glass with more beer from the pitcher and quickly begin to chug it down. There are already so many things I want to forget about today. I want to forget the loss of Daddy Bud, his funeral, the fact I have no idea what I will do now, and to top it off, a sexy stranger that somehow got under my skin after barely speaking to him. I need to drink myself into obliteration.

  “I’m going to drive you two home tonight,” Dierk volunteers as I continue to chug my beer down.

  “That’s probably a good idea,” Nikki nods.

  And that’s the last thing I remember.