Plan B (Best Laid Plans #2)(8)

"You're with Kyle?"

"I'm his—" I cut myself off. Do not say baby momma, do not, do not, do not, I chant silently in my head. "Fiancée," I blurt out instead.

Oh, my God.

That's worse. That's way, way worse than baby momma. Why did I say that? What is wrong with me? I've gone mental. Engagement chitchat and hormones have rendered me temporarily insane.

"You're engaged to Kyle Kingston?" Snooty blonde's tone is dripping with disbelief now.

"Yes," I volley back because honestly, I'm in too deep. I want to turn and run, but I'm frozen to the spot. What am I supposed to do now? Admit I'd been searching for an appropriate label when the word “fiancée” just vomited itself out of my mouth?

Beside me, there's a soft laugh. Masculine and accompanied by the sensation of someone standing just a little too close. I turn my head, preparing to deal with the interloper, when he surprises me by smiling. A big, white-toothed, disarming smile.

"Wyatt Kingston," he says, extending a hand. "Cousin of your betrothed," he adds when I slip my hand into his.

I flush, both from the gargantuan lie and the attention of this very attractive man. There's a slight family resemblance to Kyle, something in the jawline and the shape of his eyes, but Wyatt is light where Kyle is dark. Blond hair, where Kyle's is a rich brown similar to my own. The style tousled, where Kyle's is too well trimmed to be in any disarray.

"Daisy Hayden," I respond, my hand still in his. He can't be terribly close to Kyle if he's believing this fiancée farce, but I think he's my ticket inside so I'll go with it.

"Allow me to accompany you inside," he says, amused grin firmly in place as he places a hand on the small of my back, turning me toward the door.

"She doesn't have a ticket." Margo glares at Wyatt, something passing between them.

"Now’s not the time, Margo," Wyatt responds with an imperious dismissiveness that I'll never be able to pull off. And with that, we're in motion.

Margo doesn't stop us. The security guards don't stop us. The arm of a Kingston heir is the only ticket one needs to gain entry, it would seem.

"I didn't think he'd do it," Wyatt murmurs once we're inside. He says it almost to himself, but it's loud enough for me to hear.

"Do what?" I ask, distracted as my eyes adjust to the lower light in the ballroom.

"Get married."

"Commitment issues, huh?" I say offhandedly as I scan the room we've entered, trying to get a bearing on the layout and, if I'm honest, orient myself with escape routes. It's a huge space, decked out nicer than any event I've ever attended. The floral budget alone must have been more than most weddings, I think, taking in the elaborate arrangements spread throughout the room as far as I can see. It looks like we've entered into a cocktail reception area, waiters carrying trays of tiny finger foods and drinks. A long bar anchors the wall to the right and I count no fewer than five uniformed bartenders hustling behind it. It’s a full bar, based on the wall of liquor behind them and the drinks being slid across the bar's surface. I scan the area for Kyle but come up empty.

"That's why you're here, isn't it?" Wyatt looks at me assessingly, his eyes taking in far more of me than I'm comfortable with. "What's he paying you?"

Okay, that I wasn't expecting. He thinks I'm an escort. I know it was asking a lot for him to believe I was Kyle's fiancée and that his assumption got me in the door, but I'm kind of pissed off to be honest.

"Excuse me?" I take a physical step backward, eyes narrowed. Wyatt's hand slips from my back, but slides to within an inch of my ass before he pockets his hand with a smirk, taking another slow sweep of me from head to toe. As if he's perfectly entitled to do so. As if this is some kind of a joke.

"Where did he find you?"

"I'm not sure that it's any of your business, but we met in Boston." On a sidewalk, where I was not hooking, I add silently to myself.

"Boston, huh? He took that trip, what"—Wyatt pauses as if searching his memory—"two months ago?" He raises his eyebrows in suggestion. "Quite the whirlwind engagement."

"What can I tell you? He's quite taken with me." I scan the room again, looking for Kyle so I can get out of here before this night gets any worse.

Wyatt smirks and I'm almost positive I don't like him. His eyes drop to my hand before meeting mine again. "No ring?"

"It's being sized." I smirk back and I realize why I don't like him. Wyatt is exactly the type of man I used to date. An asshole. "It was nice meeting you, Wyatt, but I'm going to find my fiancé now." I make a move to step away but he's quicker, his hand on my back keeping me attached to him.

"Not so fast. I'll come with. Help you navigate, introduce you to the family, since Kyle hasn't bothered."

"It's been a long-distance love affair," I grit out. This guy is really pissing me off. "And I think it'd be better if Kyle introduced me," I add in another effort to ditch him.

Wyatt grabs two glasses of champagne from a passing waiter and presses one into my hands, unperturbed by my attempts to brush him off. He tips the rim of his glass to mine in toast, quipping, "Welcome to the family," before taking a sip.