Free The Reluctant Bachelorette by Rachael Anderson Page A

piece of paper.
“Oh, how sweet. You wrote me a love sonnet,” she joked.
    “Sorry, no. Did you want me to write you a love sonnet?”
    She wanted to kick him. Shake him. Tell him to knock it off
right now or she’d call his mother. Honestly, who says stuff like that on
camera? Luke. That’s who. And he’d keep doing it. All. Night. Long.
    Taycee unfolded the paper, not quite sure what to think. It
was a take-out menu for Maris’s diner, including a coupon for some free curly
fries. At the bottom, Luke had scribbled in Liza’s work schedule for the next
couple of weeks, along with the words,
     
    If you want to avoid long waits, I suggest you steer clear of
these times. Luke
     
    Taycee’s heart thump-bumped in her chest. Why did he have to
be so nice and thoughtful at times? It was becoming cyclical. Goad Taycee into
despising him. Do something charming to throw her off. Then repeat.
    Burt stepped closer with the camera, and Taycee slid her
fingers over the handwritten words at the bottom. “Thank you, Luke. Curly fries
are my favorite.”
    Luke gave one of his adorable half smiles. “Maybe we’ll bump
into each other there sometime.”
    Taycee’s eyes met his in a look that made her forget how to
breathe. His expression was almost . . . sincere, as if he actually wanted to
bump into her. But no, Luke wouldn’t want that or even think about wanting
that. This was just his way of discomfiting her. And, to her frustration, it
was working.
    Taycee broke eye contact and refolded the note, placing it
back inside the box. “I guess I’ll see you inside?” She needed time to compose
herself. To slow her racing heart and convince herself that Luke wasn’t worth
all this fuss. He was a sour grape. The sourest of the sour.
    “Am I the last one?” Luke said.
    “You were pretty late.”
    “It was unavoidable.” He held out an arm. “Can I take you in
or would that mess with some sort of protocol?”
    “Um . . .” So much for composure, not that it really mattered.
It wouldn’t take long before Luke stripped it away anyway. “Sure.” She took a
tentative step toward him, and then paused when her bare feet touched the
concrete. Oops. Her sandals. She flushed yet again. “Uh . . .”
    A smiled tugged at the corner of Luke’s mouth as he reached
for her hand and placed it in the nook of his arm. “Barefoot works for you.
C’mon.”
    Taycee stumbled and gripped him tighter, needing his support
to keep her upright. Just touching him seemed to cause some sort of chemical
reaction inside her—the kind that made her want to run for cover.
    Jessa gestured for them to stop right outside the door so Burt
could move his camera inside.
    Taycee took the opportunity to lean in closer. “Whatever
happened to being un-charming?” she whispered.
    Luke winked and gave her that look again—the serious one that
couldn’t possibly be serious. “Maybe I changed my mind,” he whispered back.
    Burt signaled that he was ready, so Luke led her inside, where
he promptly left her standing alone in front of a large group of staring guys.
    Mama Mia.
    With two cameras now trained on her, Taycee hesitated, not
quite sure what to do now. Soft music played in the background, and a fire
crackled in the fireplace. The room grew warm, and the air around her seemed to
thicken as she struggled to fight back a rising panic. What was she doing? She
hadn’t wanted this spot, and yet somehow here she was, forced to pretend that
she was worth all this attention. That she really was searching for Mr. Right.
    Without meaning to, her eyes rested on Luke. Off to the side
and toward the back, he now leaned against a wooden support post—a reminder
that Taycee no longer had his arm to lean on. She swallowed and forced her feet
forward, toward a group of men who were all about to compete for a date with
her—a girl they didn’t even know.
    A confident person who actually wanted to be here might say
something like “Hey, let’s get this party