Scoring a Fake FIANCÉE: Mr. Match Book 2 Page 23

  I was surprised they'd dated so long. Both because I would have imagined Felicity would have given up on this grumpy Gus sooner, and because most people seemed to know within a year or so whether things were meant to be.

  "That's lovely," I told her. "How did you meet?"

  "Well, that was before Mr. Match," she laughed. "So we met the old fashioned way. Through friends."

  I nodded. "Okay, well, what if we had the layers offset?" I drew a quick sketch of a cake that was built on a series of platforms, forming a gentle curve around a center pillar, which would add stability. "Like this?" I dug through my sample book to find a similar structure I'd made before. "That way the the stability comes from the actual construction and doesn't have to be built into the cake itself. I'm confident about building up four tiers, but once you're moving a cake around town, I'm not sure six will hold up."

  Felicity was nodding, but Arlo was squinting at me. "Maybe we need a better cake maker," he suggested.

  Felicity whipped him in the shoulder with the back of her hand, and then giggled. "She's the best," she whispered, a pleading look in her eyes. "That's perfect," she said, conceding the point.

  "Lovely." I input the final details into the order form. "I'll have a 3D model of the design for you to see next week, and you've already chosen flavors, so I think we're all set."

  "I can't believe we have to pay in installments for a cake," Arlo complained, more to his bride than to me.

  He had a point. My cakes were ridiculously expensive. My mother in Durnland hadn't believed me when I told her what I could charge here for a single cake, but weddings in Durnland were a bit of a different affair than they were here in the states. Not that I would ever be involved in one of those. I planned to stay here, meet the man of my dreams—or at least the next man of my dreams because I'd let the first one get away when I was too young to do anything about it—and live happily ever after in a place that isn't sinking.

  The couple departed, and Anna, my partner, began cackling from the back. "Just be glad he doesn't want a dragon cake!" She pointed at the tiny fondant dragons she had been making for her latest client.

  "I like dragons," I said. "I'm less sure about blood on a wedding cake. Seems a bit grim." I walked to the back and put my notebook on the long counter. Our shop was tiny, but it was bright and sunny and situated perfectly on a busy block in downtown La Jolla, next to a bridal shop. The kitchen was the biggest draw for Anna and me, besides the location. We could do all the baking and assembly here, and we kept a little display case up front full of mini cakes for off-the-street shoppers or couples who tasted something they wanted to take home. It was perfect, if a little ironic since neither Anna or I had any hopes of getting married any time soon.

  "I know you're going to ask me today, so I'll just tell you now," she said, her voice as annoyed as if I had actually asked her a question she didn't want to answer. "I still haven't heard from Mr. Match. Evidently I'm unmatchable." Anna pursed her plump lips and widened her eyes at me, waiting for me to reassure her. The truth was, I hadn't heard from the dating site either, and in a way it was a relief. I wasn't sure I wanted to be matched, but Anna had talked me into signing up after we'd seen some news coverage about the site the year before.

  "I'm sorry Anna," I said. Anna was the only woman I'd ever met who saw a husband as a means to an end. She wanted children. Lots of them. And she was less picky about the man who provided the sperm. "It'll happen."

  "Well, I'm on Tinder and match dot com too, just in case."

  "So your odds are good then."

  "And what about yours?" Anna leaned on her forearms on the counter, looking sad for me unnecessarily.

  I shook my head and smiled as brightly as I could manage. "I'm not so invested in all that. I'm just happy to be here, where it's sunny and warm and I get to bake all day and call it work."

  "Well, it is work when you deal with people like Yoga and Dark." We ended up with nicknames for most of our couples.

  "True," I said. "They weren't so bad though, really." The couple I was most dreading was scheduled for later in the day. And I only dreaded seeing them because of their connection to the one person I'd vowed to avoid here in the states. I'd seen him once, soon after I'd arrived, and that had been enough to prove he was well and truly over me. I didn't want to put myself through that pain again. So when Erica Johnson and Fernando Fuerte of the Sharks came in later today, I'd do my best to get them in and out quickly, and avoid all discussion of other Sharks players. Especially big, handsome Durnish princes.

  Hamish MacEvoy was in my past, and I needed to keep him there.

  * * *

  Ready to read book 3 now? It’ll be out March 28th!

  Pre-order here!

  Also by Delancey Stewart

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  The MR. MATCH Series:

  Book One: Scoring the Keeper’s Sister

  Book Two: Scoring a Fake Fiancée

  Book Three: Scoring a Prince

  …more to come!

  The LOVE IN THE VINES Series:

  Vintage

  Redemption Red

  Beyond Redemption

  A Holiday Delay

  The Love in the Vines Box Set (Books 1-4)

  The STARR RANCH WINERY Series:

  Chasing a Starr

  THE GIRLFRIENDS OF GOTHAM Series:

  Men and Martinis

  Highballs in the Hamptons

  Cosmos and Commitment

  The Girlfriends of Gotham Box Set

  STANDALONES:

  Without Words

  Without Promises

  Mr. Big

  The PROHIBITED! Duet:

  Prohibited!

  The Glittering Life of Evie Mckenzie

  Copyright © 2019 Delancey Stewart

  All rights reserved.

  SCORING A FAKE FIANCEE, MR. MATCH BOOK 2

  by Delancey Stewart

  All rights reserved. Published in the United States of America.

  No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  SCORING A FAKE FIANCEE is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.