Page 1 of The Wedding Fake

1

HUDSON

Claire was here again, making my mouth go dry and my heart thud in my ears. Her dark hair whipped her face as she stepped through the door and into the building’s vestibule.

“Hello,” I said pleasantly, a smile tilting my lips as I tucked my mail under one arm. With a surgical mask covering the bottom half of my face, she couldn’t see the smile, which was a damn shame, since women tended to like my smile. I could’ve taken off the mask, but I didn’t, because Claire still wore hers.

Claire Davis was quiet, with dark waves that caressed her shoulders, bright green eyes, and a sexy-as-hell body. I’d say she was the most gorgeous woman I’d ever met, except for one problem. I had no idea what the bottom half of her face looked like. Also, I hadn’t officially met her.

So, two problems.

Using my greeting as an excuse to look directly at her, I tried—not for the first time—to imagine what the bottom half of her face looked like. The worst of the pandemic had passed—deaths were down, vaccinations were up—but it wasn’t uncommon to interact with people who remained masked, and Claire was one of those people. Did she have a pre-existing condition? Was she one of those people who remained vigilant despite being otherwise healthy? Or—hell, I’m a shithead for even considering it—was the bottom half of her face unattractive? Shithead or not, I couldn’t help but be curious.

“Hello,” she replied politely, a line creasing the space between her mesmerizing green eyes. I’d said hello once before and received the same chilly reception, which was probably a fair sign to stay clear of her, but something about her made me want to know more, and a greeting in the vestibule was neighborly. It wasn’t like I was hitting on her.I was simply curious about her, and sure, that curiosity extended to her looks. She was ninety percent stunning and I just wanted a peek at the last ten percent of her.

I pushed a hand through my hair, letting out a hearty sigh. My sister, Sammie, would declare me a shallow, repulsive pig if she had access to my thoughts. I could hear her yelling at me now, and she wasn’t wrong. I was being shallow.

But fuck, I really wanted to know.

Claire smoothed her hair and pinched the nose of her mask tighter. The movement did little to tame her windblown brown waves, and my hand itched to reach out and smooth down the back where it still stuck up, but I wouldn’t dare.

In the few months since I’d first seen Claire on the elevator headed down to the lobby, she’d given no indication that she wanted a relationship beyond the polite nod of city neighbors. I hadn’t even known her name until a couple weeks ago, when she’d accidentally dropped her mail while reaching to press the button for floor four. I bent to scoop up the envelopes and saw her name in neat print on each—Ms. Claire Davis. Now all I needed was to see her whole face.

And introduce myself and get her to give more than one-word greetings.

But one thing at a time.

Holding her mail to her chest, Claire gave me a polite nod as she slipped through the door I held for her and into the cramped lobby. Today she wore a fitted red dress lined with oversized buttons down its front. Considering she was a stranger, it was surprisingly easy to imagine a reality in which she was mine. Alone in the elevator, she’d pull me closer, and I would lean into her, pressing her body against the steel wall. Then I would pop each of those buttons open with an easy flick of my thumb. I rubbed my face. Maybe Sammie was right, and I was a repulsive pig. One thing was for sure—it’d been too long since I’d gotten laid if I was having vivid sexual fantasies about the sixty seconds between the lobby and my apartment.

We stood shoulder-to-shoulder as we waited for the elevator, staring up at the arrow where it remained frozen on three for many moments and then began to swing towards two. I opened my mouth to speak—maybe I’d say something asinine about the weather, I hadn’t decided—just something to fill the silence, but the elevator dinged its arrival at the same moment, and Claire stepped forward so she was slightly in front of me. I might’ve thought the action was rude, but it gave me a guilt-free view of her ass, so I decided I didn’t care.

Sammie was definitely right about men.

Unfortunately for Claire, the elevator that opened in front of us was full, and rather than maneuver around her, the occupants—three of the four miscreant Probst boys from the third floor—exited in an unbroken line that was liable to run her over. Claire shifted uncomfortably out of their way, and I used the distraction to slip into the elevator first, settling myself on the button side of the box and giving me yet another reason to talk to her.

When she finally got in, she looked frazzled, and I was hit with a rush of guilt. I should’ve stepped in front of Claire to make sure the boys had kept a respectful distance from her. The Probst boys were shit humans, and I wouldn’t put it past one or all of them to try to brush a breast on the way by a woman. If it happened again I’d definitely remember to make sure they backed off. “Those kids are assholes. You okay?” I asked as she stepped through the doors. “I could talk to them,” I added.

She looked ill-impressed, and I assumed she was scowling under her mask. “It’s fine,” she replied coolly.

I hit the button for five, my floor, then looked at Claire once more. “Four?” I asked, and her chin dipped as she drew back.

“Yes,” she replied cautiously.

Excellent. Now she assumed I was a creep. “I remember things like that,” I explained. “Names, dates, all of that. Those boys, those are the Probst boys from the third floor. There are four of them—James, Artie, Kyle, and Andrew. All pains in the ass, but their parents both seem?—”

“There were only three,” Claire interrupted.

The words caught me off guard, and for a moment I was silent. “Artie wasn’t there,” I said finally, picturing the group as they’d rushed by.

The elevator dinged closed. “I see,” she replied.

She offered nothing else, and I wondered if she was uncomfortable talking to me because I was a strange man and we were trapped in a small box.

Or maybe she was just unpleasant.

I hoped it was the former and worried it was the latter. “Anyway, I’d avoid them if I were you,” I said needlessly, mostly to fill the silence. The elevator dinged once more, announcing its stop at the fourth floor.

Claire’s back stiffened as she smiled politely, and even though I could only see her stunning green eyes, it was clear this was a blow-off smile. “Okay. Have a good day,” she said.