Page 31 of Bonfire and Bliss Bookstore

Monty squeezes his fists by his side. “Well, I’d like to write a romance. Problem is, I don’t know how.”

I roll my eyes. “Of course you do.”

“Says the woman who told me my characters lacked chemistry.”

“Because you didn’t try and capture it!” I hear the frustration in my tone and then ease my approach. “I think you are more than capable of writing a romance, Monty.”

“No, before today, I really couldn’t.” He shakes his head. “But today, fuck, Penny, since spending time with you, I—” He glances toward the stairs then closes his eyes. When he opens them, his expression is softer, though I can still see the excitement coursing through him. “I think it helped.”

“Spending time with me helped you write?” This time, I look toward the stairs that I know lead to his bedroom—the same place where he found me naked—and my stomach tightens. “I’m not sleeping with you so you can write a book, Monty!”

He holds his hands up in panicked surrender. “That’s not what I’m suggesting, I swear it. Fuck, I keep screwing this up. I’m not explaining myself well.”

“Then just come out with it.”

Monty straightens as his emerald eyes lock on mine. “I’d like to be your fake boyfriend.”

“So you were serious?”

I hear my mom telling me to take a chance. And it could help me figure out what I want, but standing here so close to him. Knowing he wants to know what I taste like. It feels like playing with fire. And I don’t want to get burned.

“Think about it,” Monty explains. “This works for both of us. You said it yourself, you’re tired of everyone trying to set you up. And that you just need to be single for a while.”

“Exactly,” I say. “But how does being single equate to me fake dating you?”

Monty opens and closes his mouth a few times before shaking his head. “That’s not— Fuck, I knew I would screw this up.”

“Stop trying to sell me on something and tell me what you’re thinking. It’s just me. Why are you acting so weird?”

“Because the almost kiss is fucking with my brain, Xuxuzinho.” Monty tugs at his hair. “Because I haven’t written a single page for months and, after one night hanging out with you, the words are finally coming. This is my last shot, Pen. I need to write the best book I can. But I can only do it if you help me.”

His desperation is written all over him. In his voice, in the sagging of his shoulders. In the way he tugs at his dark hair.

“But how will dating me help?” I ask.

“Maybe it was just a fluke. Maybe spending more time together won’t help me write. But maybe—” His shoulders lift.

“I’m your muse?” I tease.

He shrugs. “Crazier things have helped writers.”

“Still—”

“I know this is crazy, and maybe it won’t work. But you know romance more than anyone. Give me a few months: you can help me write the best book, and everyone in town will leave you alone. No more ridiculous dating suggestions, no more candle séances. You can just focus on your store because everyone else will be focused on how I’ve fallen for you…”

“So you want us to act in love?”

“Fuck, Pen, I don’t know, I’ve never even been in a relationship. You’ve studied these books more than a doctor studies for the boards. What do you think?”

“I wouldn’t say I read that much.” I laugh and he looks at me quizzically. “Okay, maybe I have. But this is crazy. No one is going to believe that you are dating me.”

Monty steps closer and his eyes dip to my lips again. I do a tremendous job of not doing the same. “But they already think we are.”

He nods his chin to the phone in my pocket and I suck in a breath.

“The town chat.” Monty grins devilishly. “We use it against them; give them just enough information to keep them hooked. Date in town, flirt in public.”

My pulse ricochets a million miles per minute. “And I teach you how to be a romantic hero in private?”