Page 76 of Fake it ’Til Fall

“What? I work at a nonprofit. We name things until they sound fundable.”

He sighs because I’m being impossible.

See? I know him. We’re perfect for this allegedly fraudulent courtship. Honestly, the paperwork should already be printing.

“Listen, Forrest, I don’t want a fake boyfriend because I need a man to prove I’m okay. I know how hideous that sounds. Very tragic-woman-standing-near-seasonal-centerpieces. But Winterberry Cove is built on optics, wine, grudges, and women pretending they don’t hear everything.”

His eyes stay on mine.

“You need optics. I need optics. This is a win-win situation.”

My throat goes tight, so I smile.

Bad habit.

“If I go back with you, they’ll still gossip,” I continue. “Obviously. They’ll probably need hydration and a snack break. But they’ll have a different story to chew on.”

“The Thorn woman and the Wolfcraft asshole,” he states.

“See? Already more dynamic.”

“Daisy.”

“You need this more than I do, Forrest,” I say with so much conviction I almost believe myself. “I’m there for just a week. You, on the other hand, need the perfect optics to get a job. You need someone who can make you look less like a man whose emotional range begins and ends with bench-pressing a door.”

“I’ve never bench-pressed a door.”

“That is exactly what a man who has considered it would say.”

“Parents need to see me with someone who trusts me,” he says.

“Yes.”

“You trust me?”

“Yes,” I respond. “Inconveniently. Against several internal advisories.”

He sighs. “Rules.”

I blink. “What?”

“If we do this⁠—”

“We’re doing it?”

“If,” he repeats, glaring.

“Fine, we’ll go with ‘if.’” I grab my pen so fast the cap shoots off and rolls under the table.

Puck lifts his head.

“Don’t eat that,” Forrest and I say at the same time.

We look at each other.

I refuse to acknowledge the tiny domestic horror of that.

Forrest retrieves the cap, sets it beside my notebook, and I write RULES at the top of a clean page.