The Accidental Girlfriend

“That’s something I’d like to see. Do I have to pay for it, or are the tickets free?”

“You can get a free front row seat since it’s you I’m tearing down.”

“The romance. I can hardly take it.”

“I’ll sprinkle rose petals across the floor before I rip your arguments to shreds. How does that sound?”

“If you were a good girlfriend you’d sprinkle a trail of your clothing toward the bedroom, but whatever.”

“Well, thank God I’m not.”

Trevor looked between us both with bewilderment in his eyes. “You two need to get married.”

With that comment, he left us alone, heading in the direction of where Kirsty and Pru were huddled over the table talking.

“That’s two people in your life who think you need to marry me,” I said slowly. “Either you need to re-evaluate your taste in women, or I need to stop being so delightful.”

“Probably the first one.” Mason leaned back against the bar, his finger tickling my arm. “You are a real delight, did you know that?”

“I tell myself it every day before I brush my teeth. Putting good thoughts out into the universe and all that.”

“I can never tell when you’re joking and when you’re being serious.”

“That’s part of the joy of living in my world. Keep up, Mason.”

“My bad.” He turned his body into me, bringing his mouth to my hair. “My mom is watching us and pointing you out to my uncle. Play along.”

I tilted my head as if I was listening to him and moved into him, smiling as I did so.

All right, it wasn’t the worst thing in the world.

“How long do we have to keep this up for tonight?” I murmured, lifting my lips close to his chin. “Not that standing next to you is the worst thing I’ve ever done, but I don’t want you getting too attached to me.”

Mason chuckled. “Couple hours at least. You agreed to this.”

I groaned. “So I did. That was a terrible idea.”

“I’m great company.”

“I never said you weren’t. I’m just not sure I’m that great.”

“Well, you’re better now than you were. Plying you with wine seems like it’s the way forward.”

“What are you trying to say?”

“Nothing, nothing.” The grin that spread across his face was both playful and sexy. “Don’t worry. We’ll leave before the old ones get out their cowboy boots and start line dancing.”

I wrinkled up my face. “You promise?”

“Promise.”

***

Spoiler alert: Mason Jackson was a big, fat liar.

It was the only explanation for why Pru had wrangled my wine glass out of my hands and guided me into the position I was in now.

In the middle of a line of women who, at a minimum, were old enough to be my mother. I knew only three of the women who were shuffling side-to-side excitedly—Pru, Kirsty, and Nadia.

I’d also seen the videos.

I knew what was about to happen.

I was about to be a line-dancer extraordinaire. I wasn’t wearing the shoes for this. Nobody could line dance in four-inch heels. This was going to be a disaster from the very first beat of the music.

“Off.” Pru swerved so she was standing in front of me and held out her hands. “Take them off.”

I looked at my feet. “No offense, but they’re my only line of defense at this point.”

“Lauren, remove the shoes, or I’ll do it for you.”

Shit, she wasn’t joking.

I wasn’t sure if it was the look in her eye or the four glasses of wine that made me lean on Kirsty’s shoulder to stabilize myself while I removed my trusty black heels. Pru took them from me with a triumphant “whoop” and handed them to Mason.

He took them by the heels, looking over at me with confusion glinting in his eyes.

“Help,” I mouthed.

He held my gaze for a moment that felt like it lasted forever, then winked. “No,” he mouthed right back, using his beer bottle to hide his smile as he wrapped his lips around the rim of it.

Jerk.

I bit the inside of my cheek as the Macarena filled the room.

That’s right.

The Maca-freakin’-rena.

No.

This was not happening.

Inside my head, I was at home, eating pizza while Henry sat on my head. In reality, I was stretching my hands in front of me, doing a dance I hadn’t done since middle school.

I was doing the Macarena. Barefoot. In the middle of a function room, on the other side of tipsy, with my fake boyfriend’s family.

Einstein was wrong. The definition of insanity wasn’t doing the same thing over and over again.

This was.

This had to be. It was the only explanation for anything.

Oh, God, what was happening? How had I ended up here? And why the hell was I enjoying it?

We shook and jump-turned for the second time. Kirsty caught my eye as we laid our arms out in front of us for the third time and winked.

“Welcome to the family.” She laughed, knocking her elbow into mine when we both moved to put our hands behind our head.