Shifting in my seat, I realized none of her relatives would doubt I had a thing for Astrid since my dick was going to be hard all weekend.

The way she’d responded in my office last Saturday meant she was right there with me. The chemistry between us was undeniable—and we’d only kissed, but the rest? She’d bought me at an auction. Bought me.

This was transactional. No strings.

I knew where I stood with her, and it wasn’t behind her with my dick in her pussy.

I was her wingman. Her fake boyfriend. That was all.

Right?

If her ex, the stodgy-sounding Edward, had any second thoughts about Astrid, he was going to be sporting a black eye in the wedding photos.

He’d had his chance.

When I’d first agreed, I thought this was going to be easy. A piece of cake, no pun intended. But as I made my way across the lot to Astrid, I was second guessing that.

When she turned to face me and gave me a huge smile, I was in big trouble. She blushed, hopefully remembering how I’d cupped her breast and played with the hard nipple. It was something I hadn’t forgotten, even relived every time I’d been in the shower since. And out.

“Hi,” she breathed.

I leaned down and kissed her cheek, tipping my head so my hat didn’t bump her. Yeah, fucking vanilla.

“That your sister’s cake?”

She peeked at it the way a mother would ensure her child was safely secured in a car seat. “It is. I’d usually put the tiers on after I get there, but Amy wants to see it finished and I won’t have time to do the finishing touches later.”

“I’m not all that familiar with wedding cakes, but it sure is pretty.”

I counted four tiers. White frosting. Flowers all over it in shades of white to pale yellow and pale pink. It was elaborate and… well, impressive.

“Thanks.”

“I didn’t think you could get flowers that color around here.”

“I made them.”

Made them?

I took a second glance at the cake. Leaned closer to get a better look, but I knew not to touch. Each petal was curved and angled to perfection. I’d swear they were real. “They’re not real?”

“Nope. You can eat them.”

Turning, I looked to Astrid. “You’re really talented.” I wasn’t lying. The work she’d done was incredible. The amount of detail and artistry...

She sighed and gave me a pleased look.

“Thanks. Are you ready to go? I don’t mean to rush you but while the cake’s been in the fridge, I’ve got to get the van going and the air conditioning running before it softens,” she said.

“You’re transporting it like that?” I pointed, worried.