Blessed by the Fake Boyfriend

Chapter One

Michelle Bright had never loved a man as much as she loved Garret Smith. It was because of this humiliating love that she found herself hiding from him in his parents’ home during their annual fall barbecue. Her own dear parents had guilted her into coming, not understanding that the last time Michelle had faced Garret was at their high school graduation celebration five years ago. The same night Michelle had attempted to profess her love to him. And the very same night he later hooked back up with his ex-girlfriend.

“It would be rude not to show up,” she huffed, mimicking her mother’s high-pitched demands that morning. “The Smiths have been family friends since you were a baby. We can’t disappoint them. They throw this party every Thanksgiving.”

With a toss of her long dark blonde hair, she made a face. She never could tell her mother no. Even as an adult. It was frankly pathetic.

Her fingers lingered on the brass doorknob to the bathroom. She’d asked to use it the moment they arrived, determined to bolt herself inside for the next two hours until running into Garret was no longer a threat. But as she paused in the darkened hallway of the Smith home, her thoughts turned to the old study she remembered playing in as a kid.

Garret and his older brother, Joey, would dare her to go in, insisting that it was haunted by the souls of dead Civil War soldiers. It had seemed terrifying at the time, but now at the age of twenty-three, the idea was laughable. It would certainly make a better hiding spot than the bathroom. She had to revisit this room and see it through her adult eyes. And maybe at the same time, she could finally put to rest the ghosts that haunted her heart.

She tiptoed over the old oak floorboards, feeling at once ridiculous and stealthy. Everyone else was enjoying the warm November afternoon. There was no one inside the cool, Victorian-style home to stop her. They were all munching on Kansas-style barbecue, drinking chilled sweet tea, and talking about the recent rains.

These kinds of events never changed. Even though Michelle had been gone for five long years attending Brown University in Rhode Island, she could still predict moment-by-moment what would happen at these get-togethers. Small towns never changed. Especially the small town of Blessings, Kansas.

The study was just ahead, at the end of the hallway. She pushed the door open a foot and winced when it let out a moaning creak. Slipping inside, she shut it firmly behind her and gasped at what she saw. The room wasn’t anything like she remembered. No ghosts or dark shadows. Unlike in most modern homes, the Smith’s study was more like a grand library than a stuffy office.

The room traversed the whole side of the house. Shelves upon shelves jutted from the walls and were stacked to the brim with old leather-bound books and manuscripts. Her child self obviously hadn’t appreciated the grandeur of such a room. Immediately, she found herself running her fingers along the spines, her wide blue eyes taking in the golden embossed titles.

“Civil War ghosts or not, I officially love this room,” she announced, her eyes trailing up the honey gold wood trim and ornate ceiling. They didn’t build houses like this anymore.

A massive mahogany roll-top desk stood just to her left with a cracked dark red leather rolling chair. She plucked the first book that looked interesting from a shelf and settled into the chair, quite ready to immerse herself in it until everyone at the party made their way to the town carnival and forgot about her.

She was halfway through the first chapter when a large, dark figure suddenly appeared from behind one of the bookshelves. The movement caught the corner of her eye and she shrieked loudly, slamming her book closed and chucking it toward the ghostly figure with impressive force. The book met its mark and drew a loud swear from its target, who began to rub the side of his head.

It took her a second to realize the visitor wasn’t a ghost—it was a man. A large man with an oval shaped face, chiseled jaw, heavy brow, and short cropped brown hair. He couldn’t have been older than twenty-five. He wore dark-washed denim and a thin unzipped grey jacket that bulged at his muscular biceps. It was obvious from a mere glance that the guy was in good shape. He could’ve easily bench pressed her, had he tried. Not that Michelle often went around asking men to bench press her. But still, the guy was fit. However, the most striking thing about him was his golden amber eyes as they stared accusingly at her.

“You scared me!” She grasped the desk in front of her with white knuckles. Her heart was still beating away like a stampede of cattle. “What are you doing here?”

“What am I doing here?” He spoke in a deep bass, punctuating the question with a surly shake of his head. “This is my house. And you nearly took my head off.”

“Your house?”

“My house,” he repeated, his brow raising in a challenge. “Are you serious, Michelle? Do you really not recognize me?”

There was something strangely familiar about him. It took a minute for her brain to put two and two together, but when she did, she felt all her blood pool in her cheeks. Joey Smith was home. Garret’s older brother. She’d been so freaked out, she’d hardly recognized him.

“Joey? Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry I hit you.”

He smirked and picked up the book she’d thrown off the floor. “Actually, I go by Joseph now. And that would’ve been a whole lot easier to forgive if you hadn’t just chucked Anna Karenina at my face. You had to pick the heaviest book in the library, didn’t you?”

She folded her lips in and tried not to grimace. It had been a long time since she’d seen Joseph Smith. He was taller now. Broader, too. And he carried himself with the confidence of a man. “It looked interesting. I’ve read War and Peace, but haven’t had a chance to dive into that one.”