Falling for the Best Man (Sisters of Wishing Bridge Farm, #1)(3)

Emmy stared back at a ridiculously good looking photograph before studying the name next to it. Christopher Sheppard.

She rubbed her brow in confusion. It didn’t help that his overwhelming presence made it hard to think. And by “hard,” she meant “impossible.”

“I still don’t understand. Melinda and Lewis live in California, along with the rest of the wedding party. How do you even know them?”

“Lewis and I have been friends since sixth grade. We both moved away for college, but have always stayed in touch.”

“Oh.” She was finally silent as she accepted that it was true: her weekend-stand from two-years ago and the best man were one and the same person.

And I’ve just promised a hysterical bride he can stay on the farm for the next four days. With me.

Bile rose in her throat.

How could this be happening to her? But, of course, she already knew the answer. It was like Pepper and Bec said—Emmy was always trying to keep the peace. It just didn’t normally involve spending time with the one guy who had every right to despise her.

She took a deep breath. “Okay, we should get going. Do you need to collect your luggage?”

“I travel light. One of the perks of the job is that I have exceptional packing skills.” He tapped the small bag slung over his shoulder.

“Of course.” Emmy winced at the subtle visual evidence of just how much Christopher refused to stay in one place for too long. She stiffened her spine and reminded herself she was going to do whatever it took to save the farm, even force herself to look at his face when she told him where he was staying.

…

Christopher didn’t normally have bad days. He’d long ago learned that if you wanted something to happen, you had to go out and do it for yourself. And that included being happy. However, having been stuck on a flight from Australia with an elderly non-stop talker in the next seat meant his head was pounding. And now he’d arrived in Connecticut only to discover the wedding planner who was collecting him was none other than Emmy Watson.

His brow furrowed.

It wasn’t as if he’d spent the last two years pining for her, or living like a monk, but it still stung she’d left him standing at the airport with two tickets to Fiji and the knowledge they wouldn’t be repeating the two hot nights they’d spent together.

Thankfully, whatever chemistry they’d shared was now long gone. Killed by her decision not to join him.

So, the fact I want to kiss her now is completely irrelevant.

He was focused on his next project.

His mood improved as he thought of the meeting in Hawaii he’d lined up for the following week. It was to talk with a production company about a television show that would let viewers see first hand some of the lesser-known adventures around the world. His agent, Trent had been pitching it for years, and now they finally had some interest.

There was only one small tweak the producers wanted to make. After being burned by too many bad-boy travel writers and celebrity chefs who had attracted the wrong kind of publicity, they wanted to be sure Christopher was family friendly. And the best way to do that was to show them he was in a committed relationship. In other words, he needed a pretend girlfriend.

Someone who could step in for day and help convince the producers he was responsible, stable, and not interested in causing trouble. In return she’d get a free vacation in Hawaii, and his undying gratitude. It seemed like a fair deal.

Now he just had to find the girl.

“And not your regular kind of girlfriend,” Trent had quickly interjected before Christopher could begin to flick through his address book. “We need someone nice, but not too nice, if you know what I’m saying.”

Unfortunately, he did. Which was why he’d decided to wait until he was at Lewis’s wholesome vintage wedding to find the perfect girl. After all, what could be more family-friendly than one of the six bridesmaids who were going to be there? It was like the universe was giving him a clear sign this was the right thing to do. Not to mention—

“This is it,” Emmy’s voice cut through his thoughts like a razor as they came to a halt next to a faded green pickup truck that had seen better days.

Christopher climbed into the vehicle. Despite the rust, the inside cab was neat and smelled vaguely of vanilla cupcakes. He put his compact travel bag on the floor and forced himself to not look at Emmy, because looking was bad. Very bad. Plus, it might lead to disturbing thoughts of nakedness, or at the very least make him acknowledge she was even more beautiful now than when they’d first met.

Okay, so no looking and no thinking.

Her hands tightened around the steering wheel. She was clearly hiding something. It was lucky she was a self-declared homebody, since she obviously didn’t have the makings of an international spy.

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on?” he asked as she shifted into first gear and drove through the parking lot.

“What do you mean?” Her light voice was at odds with the red patches that had now appeared on her cheeks. She didn’t look at him, and if Christopher wasn’t still annoyed with her for standing him up two years ago, he might’ve acknowledged his increased heart rate. Or the fact her skin was still dewlike. Nope, not happening. He slammed that part of his brain shut. “I told you, I’m the wedding planner. I’m here to collect you.”