Her Best Friend Fake Fiancé

by Kimberly Krey

  “Betzy,” he said, voice low and raspy, the heat of his breath a tease of its own.

  And then his mouth was on hers once more. A full, strong, and glorious kiss. A playful push here, a gentle, encouraging pull there, the rhythm like a well-crafted song, the slow and steady build toward that perfect crescendo.

  Sawyer liked her. He really did. And while she wasn’t sure what that meant, one thing was very certain: now, more than ever, Sawyer Kingsley owned a piece of her heart. She just wondered, with him heading to the other side of the country, if she’d ever get it back.

  Chapter 2

  ~Present Day

  A classical version of Jingle Bells floated into the oversized dressing room as Betzy waited to try on the next wedding gown for Grandma’s catalog. This one, an Italian vintage design. Long in the sleeves, low in the back, and tight in the bodice.

  Rachel prepped the dress for her by untying the ribbon binding along the back. “Lo did a great job with this shipment. I can’t wait to photograph this one and get it on the website. I bet Camila would have picked it if we’d have had it in.”

  Betzy gazed at the unique beadwork along the neckline, bodice, and sleeves. “She might have,” she agreed. “But I love the one she picked. In fact, I loved everything about their wedding day. I wonder if that’s normal. Is that how you felt when your brother got married?”

  Rachel pulled at the sides of the dress, hunching to create a complete hole for Betzy to step into. “I’m sure it would have been if I liked his wife. Camila’s amazing. That’s why it was so great for you guys.”

  “True,” Betzy agreed. Camila, James’ new wife, was easygoing, generous, and a little feisty as well. The perfect match for her younger brother.

  Betzy sighed as she thought over the last few months. Attending that wedding, witnessing the magic of their love, it fanned that deep fear within her. One that had been there for years.

  Sure, she got to slip into wedding gowns at her grandmother’s boutique each time a shipment her size came in, but that was just for the online catalog. The truth was, Betzy feared that her own wedding day might never come.

  After all, how often had Mom told her not to pursue a big career? How many times had the woman drilled it into her head: Men don’t want a woman more successful than them. Just play the part of happy heiress unless you want to wind up a lonely old spinster.

  Betzy hadn’t taken the woman’s advice, but what if Mom was right?

  She pushed the thought aside and tried focusing on the task at hand. “I swear, if my Grandma Lo didn’t have me doing this for her, I would have probably said goodbye to my waistline a long time ago.” She tiptoed over the mounding silk fabric, setting her feet carefully onto the spot of floor visible in the center.

  Rachel wasted no time pulling the dress up around her frame. “Turn,” she said, gripping her hips and giving her a spin. At once, she was tightening the bodice, one hefty cinch after the next. “This is going to look incredible on you.”

  “I heard that,” Grandma Lo said from the other side of the door. “I can’t wait to see.”

  The song changed to a modern holiday tune. One Betzy recognized but could never name. “I can’t believe it’s already December,” she said. “This year has flown by.”

  “Wait until you’re my age,” Grandma hollered. “When you get to be in your seventies, one year is a mere point-seven percent of the life you’ve already lived. They go by very quickly at that rate.”

  Grandma had overcome a lot in her seventy plus years. Some might think that a billionaire’s life was charmed, but Lorraine Benton had buried her husband, her only son, and one of her grandsons too. Proving that life, no matter financial rank, had its challenges.

  “Okay,” Rachel said while taking her hand. “Step into some heels. Do you see the champagne colored ones there?”

  Betzy glanced over the gorgeous heels lined up along the edge of the dressing room. “Yes, those will be perfect.” She slipped into one, and then the other while Rachel helped fasten the straps.

  Her friend straightened up once she was through, running a gaze up the dress, when a gasp pulled from her throat.

  “What?” Betzy asked, patting at the dress as she looked down to inspect it. “Is there a tear or something?”

  But Rachel only shook her head. “No,” she said, taking a step back. “It’s your dress.”

  Betzy furrowed her brow. “What are you talking about? I’m nowhere near getting married.”

  “That’s not what I’m saying. I’m saying…” Rachel died off as she spun a slow, complete circle around her. “I’m saying that this. Is. Your. Dress.”

  The way she emphasized each and every word caused Betzy to turn and face the mirrors. Whoa. Rachel wasn’t kidding. Betzy had gotten used to giving each gown no more than a second glance. But as she stepped closer to the mirror, eyes set on her reflection, Rachel’s words resonated within her.

  Of all the dresses she’d modeled for Grandma’s bridal boutique, this—with its champagne colored silk, antique pearl accents, and custom stitching—had Betzy imagining her own walk down the aisle.

  “Admit it,” Rachel said. “You look incredible.”

  “Open up,” Grandma hollered. “I have to see this for myself.”

  Rachel came up behind her, gathering the silky train into her arms, then came to a stand. “Okay,” she said. “Go ahead and step out.”

  Betzy nodded as she pulled her eyes off the gorgeous sight of the dress. She reached for the door, turned the knob, and gave it a push.

  Grandma Lo’s posture shifted before Betzy’s eyes. Gone was the hip-leaning, arm-folding scrutiny—the gaze that usually led to moments of tucking fabric here or pinning the neckline there. She lifted her arms at either side, palms up as if she might break into a song of praise.

  “Heaven and all its angels are shining down on you today,” she said in a whisper. “This is a sign. It’s your year. Your time has come at last.”

  All thoughts of the dress hit the floor at Grandma’s words. “A sign? You do know it’s December, right? It can’t possibly be my year—it’s practically over.”

  Grandma rubbed her hands together as she approached. “I don’t mean it that way. I mean that, before this time next year, you’ll be walking down the aisle with the man of your dreams. Trust me, I have a sense for these things.”

  “She does have a sense,” Rachel agreed.

  “Well, if that’s the case, why don’t you put this on hold for the ninth of never since I haven’t met a man I’d even want to marry and I don’t sense one coming any time soon.”

  “Really, Betz?” Rachel mumbled. “The ninth of never? That’s pathetic.”

  “Maybe you’ve met him, maybe you haven’t. But that’s what makes it fate,” Grandma said with a dismissive wave. “It’s got timing of its own.”

  Rachel was already standing behind her tripod. She adjusted its height while squinting across the room. “Turn more toward the window.”

  Betzy turned, but she kept her gaze on Grandma as a sharp, prickly irritation bubbled within her. “How do you explain fate when everything we do alters our future? It’s like you opening up this boutique after the plane crash. You said we’re in the driver’s seat, remember?”

  Sure, Betzy’s voice was getting tight and her tone had turned high, but this wasn’t a nonchalant conversation. In fact, Betzy had made some very important life decisions based on what Grandma said in the crucial months following the tragedy that took both Dad and Grandpa Benton to an early grave.

  Grandma merely chuckled under her breath with the shake of her head. “Oh, we’re in the driver’s seat, all right. And we map out our course and go on our way and think we have it all planned out, down to the time of arrival. But then fate takes the wheel.”

  “Okay,” Rachel said from behind the lens, “can we save this conversation for another time? We’ve got a lunch date, remember?”

  “That’s right,” Grandma agreed, her gaze darti
ng to the crystal clock above the entrance. “Let me just fix this…”

  Betzy held still as she gently tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. There was no point in reminding Grandma that her face wouldn’t be in the pictures—just the dress. She had to primp Betzy just the same.

  “Ah, there! Beautiful!” She attended to the dress’s train next, laying it just so before hurrying out of the shot, hands squeezed together in delight.

  “If you were to walk down the aisle anytime soon,” Rachel said as she adjusted the lens, “who would you marry?”

  An image of Sawyer Kingsley shot to Betzy’s mind. Dark hair, perfectly trimmed five o’clock shadow, and hazel eyes that tugged at her heart like nothing else.

  A sigh slipped from her lips. “No one.”

  “Oh, you’ve got to come up with one or two,” Grandma said. “Definitely not Marcus Creighton—that jerk.”

  “Yeah,” Betzy agreed firmly. “Not him.” A guy who let her rescue his company before publicly taking credit for that rescue wasn’t even worth a mention.

  Rachel tipped her head past the camera. “Move your hands behind your back now.” After Betzy did just that, Rachel sparked up the conversation once more. “I think if you had to pick someone right now it’d be Sawyer. You two have a marriage contract and everything.”

  Heat filled Betzy’s face, but it was nothing compared to the explosion in her chest. That was the problem with keeping the same friend for so long—they knew all your childhood secrets.

  “He is still single,” Rachel continued.

  Grandma shuffled closer to Rachel, watching over her shoulder as she worked. “What marriage contract is this?” she asked. “Go down a little lower, will you? Get the reflection of the floors in a few shots.”

  “It’s nothing,” Betzy assured. “We were just kids.”

  “If it really was nothing,” Rachel said, “your face wouldn’t match the roses Lo had delivered this morning. Sheesh, good thing I’m shooting from the neck down.”

  Betzy could hardly believe the irony of it all. What were the chances that fate, Sawyer, and stupid Marcus would come up in the same conversation?

  Still, if she were being honest, Betzy had always felt as if she and Sawyer were meant to be or fated, as Grandma might say. Especially after that kiss.

  But then Sawyer left. Five years later, just when Betzy thought he’d return and life would go back to normal, Dad and Grandpa were killed in the plane crash, and life shifted to a new kind of normal.

  Mom, who’d always been closer to the boys, went quiet. Retreated to her room for days, sometimes weeks at a time. Grandma had swooped in to pick up the pieces. Forget the fact that she was hurting too.

  Amongst it all, Lorraine Benton, after burying her husband and her son, opened the wedding boutique of her dreams. Not to make money—heck, the family had more than they could spend—but to fulfill an inner desire: to be at the place where happiness begins. In essence, she’d taken fate into her own hands.

  An act that inspired Betzy to do the same with one bold move. It hadn’t gone well.

  She mused back on that time in her life while driving to the clubhouse. Outside, shoppers hurried along the bustling sidewalks. Christmas lights hung from the palm trees along the storefronts, reminding the city of Los Angeles that it was Christmastime indeed.

  She couldn’t help but wonder if Sawyer would come home for the holidays this year. And if he did, would he reach out to her? Try to get together for a drink and catch up?

  After flying in for the double funeral, Sawyer veered from the norm and flew his mother out to New York for the holidays instead. Betzy hoped he wouldn’t do the same this year.

  “Your mother’s going to be here, right?” Grandma asked as she retouched her lipstick.

  “Yes,” Betzy said. “And Camila too.”

  “Good, good.” Grandma tucked her lipstick back into her purse and smoothed a hand over her blonde hair. Mid-seventies as she might be, Lorraine Benton was beautiful as ever.

  The women arrived soon enough. Camila sat next to Betzy, Rachel sat on the other side, and Mom plunked beside Grandma with a sigh.

  “You’re not going to believe what Kellianne just brought me.”

  Betzy’s heart pumped a clumsy beat out of rhythm. Kellianne, as in Sawyer Kingsley’s mom. She and her mom had been close since Kellianne started cleaning house for their family years ago. “What was it?”

  Mom dug into her bag, pulled out a magazine, and plopped it on the center of the table next to the decorative butterballs and bread bowl.

  Betzy’s eyes shot to the headline:

  Most Eligible Bachelors From East Coast to West.

  “Again?” Betzy was the first one to snatch the magazine off the table and pull it to her chest.

  “This one’s with Slipper Magazine,” Mom said. “Last time it was World’s Way.”

  Quickly, Betzy flipped page after page, not bothering to look at the index in front.

  Advertisement.

  Another advertisement.

  Portland’s Bachelor.

  Makeup tips.

  Washington’s…Tampa’s…

  Him. Sawyer Kingsley, one of New York City’s top real estate moguls, right there in black and white. And what a stunning picture it was.

  Betzy steadied her breath; it felt like a jackhammer was going off inside her chest. The photographer had opted for the night-after-a-long-day look. His white, button-up shirt hung open, revealing a generous view of his sculpted pecs and chiseled abs. The ends of a skinny black tie dangled at either side. In the photo on the left, Sawyer looked off in the distance, his squared jaw and furrowed brow giving him a pensive expression.

  She knew that expression well. Loved it.

  “I can’t believe he didn’t tell me about this,” Betzy mumbled.

  “Maybe he’s humble,” Camila said over her shoulder.

  Rachel hovered over the other side. “No one that good looking knows humility.”

  Betzy grinned, partly amused by their dialogue, and partly wistful as she recalled the walking contradiction of Sawyer Kingsley. He played a cocky male as well as the next guy, with his flirtatious ways and bold, charismatic smile, but beneath that, there was a humble quality. An endearing one at that.

  Her eyes drifted to the photo on the right. He was looking straight into the lens in that one, running a hand through his hair with a smile that made her heart quiver and ache.

  She’d earned a whole lot of those smiles over the years, but that thought only added to the hurt.

  How? How after all this time was she not over Sawyer? She’d sent a piece of her heart with him when he left to New York, secretly hoping he’d come back and marry her. But as the years passed, Betzy realized he’d never promised any such thing.

  She gulped past a shallow breath, cursing the heated longing deep in her chest. It reminded her of the incident she tried very hard to forget. The one that forced Betzy to snatch that part of her heart back and bury it. Bury it deep like a worm in the ground.

  But all too often, her mind became the beak of a bird, piercing through the soil to snatch it up and devour it whole.

  Not right now, Betzy. Don’t revisit that right now. She wouldn’t. What she would do is send Mr. hot, sexy bachelor of NYC a text. Just to prove she could. How many women ogling his spread could do that? Not many, ladies. Not many.

  She pulled her phone from her purse and tapped out a text to the one and only.

  Betzy: Check out our lunch conversation topic at the clubhouse today.

  She snapped a picture of his magazine spread and hit send.

  “Who’s that going to?” Camila asked.

  Betzy glanced up from her phone to see that Grandma, Rachel, and Mom awaited her answer as well. “It’s to him.”

  Camila gripped hold of her forearm. “You really do know this guy?”

  Betzy grinned. Her new sister-in-law was the only one at the table who didn’t know about their history.

&nb
sp; Rachel pulled out the finger quotes. “They’re friends.”

  A grin spread over Camila’s face. “Have you ever kissed him?” That question, sweetened by her Spanish accent, rolled off Camila’s tongue with far too much ease.

  “Camila,” Betzy said with a gasp.

  “Well,” Grandma Lo blurted. “Have you?”

  Betzy made a quick survey of the table before nodding ever so slightly.

  The ladies’ chorus of oohs and ahs gained attention from nearby patrons. It was a good thing Rachel wasn’t still shooting pictures of her since Betzy was likely red all the way to her toes.

  “Hello, lovely ladies,” their table host said cheerily. “Have you made your selections yet?”

  Slowly, hesitantly, the eyes peeled away from Betzy and shifted to their host. And while they placed the ladies orders one by one, Betzy was replaying that heavenly kiss.

  “Mind if I take a little peek at this for myself?” Rachel asked, gripping the corner with her finger and thumb.

  Betzy shook her head. “No, go ahead.” She watched numbly as Rachel licked a finger and turned the page.

  “Maybe I’ll snatch up one of these other bachelors for myself,” Rachel said under her breath.

  “What magazine is that?” Camila asked.

  “Slipper,” Mom answered. “Hey, that reminds me. Don’t the Shays run Slipper Magazine?”

  Betzy resisted an eye-roll. “Yep.”

  “That’s what I thought. Kellianne says the editor went to school with you and Sawyer. What’s her name?”

  “Daisy,” Betzy said. “Daisy Shay…” She added emphasis to help Mom recognize the name. Daisy had caused Betzy a whole lot of grief during their school years. Spreading false rumors and going after any guy Betzy took an interest in, namely Sawyer.

  “That’s right,” Mom said as enlightenment lit her eyes. “I guess Daisy personally delivered three copies of the magazine to Kellianne the day the issue came out.”

  “I bet she did,” Betzy said under her breath. Irritation gripped her fast and hard. Seemed as if Daisy still wanted to get her hands on Sawyer. At one point, she’d accomplished that very thing. Was she simply up to her same old tricks?