Page 61 of Fake Shot

“I don’t do sleepovers.”

“Because you need that big bed all to yourself?” I can tell by the way she curls her legs up onto the leather seat and turns toward me that she’s teasing.

“Because I don’t want to set any expectations.”

“Don’t worry. Not only are wenotgoing to be sharing that bed tonight, but even if we did, I wouldn’t have any expectations that it meant something.”

“Maybe that’s your problem, Jules. Maybe you don’t expect enough.” I chance a quick glance at her so I can watchthe flush of embarrassment creep across her cheeks. It’s too damn easy to make her blush, and I enjoy it too damn much.

“Like I said”—her voice is defensive—“I wouldn’t expect anything fromyou.”

“What if I was your real fiancé?”

Shut up, you idiot, my brain screams. Why am I letting her know that I’ve even considered that, when I’ve already told her that I can’t act on anything I’m feeling toward her? I’m a fucking mess.

She coughs out a laugh. “Colt, the world would have to be ending before I’d actually agree to marry you.” Despite her words, there’s no heat behind them. It’s clearly an attempt to rebuild those walls she occasionally lets down around me.

“You’re going to at least have to pretend that you like me if we’re going to sell this engagement this weekend.”

“Nah, you’d never marry someone who was always fawning over you. That would be the surest sign ever that this wasn’t real. You need someone to put you in your place, Colt. And I plan to do just that, even in front of your family.”

Driving through my hometown is surreal. Everything’s the same, yet everything’s different. Same buildings on Main Street, different stores. Same high school, with a huge new addition off the side. Same grocery store, new name.

It’s been so long since I’ve let myself think about this place, and about what I’m missing by not coming home, that I actually have a lump in my throat as we drive through the center of town. As if she knows how I’m feeling, Julesreaches her arm over and rests her hand on my thigh. It doesn’t have the calming effect I’m sure she intends. Instead, it has my heart beating faster. Or is my heart rate increasing because now that we’re here, I’m going to have to tell her what happened between Gabriel, Cheri, and me so long ago?

My GPS directs me to take a left, but I’d have been able to find the inn without it. Pinevale is small enough that you don’t come here unless you’re visiting someone. There’s only one inn in town. But when we pull up to the white Victorian with its contrasting pale sage green gingerbread trim and wide front porch with floorboards painted in the same shade, I realize my mistake. I’ve waited too long to tell Jules the truth about my past.

Because sitting in three of the rocking chairs on the front porch are my brother, my mom, and my dad—and they wave enthusiastically when we pull in.

I drive to the farthest parking spot I can find, down at the end of the wide circular driveway, and then turn toward Jules in my seat. “I haven’t seen my brother in fifteen years, and I wasn’t expecting him to be waiting for us.”

“It’s going to be fine,” she says, squeezing my thigh, but I feel like she’s saying it as much for her own benefit as for mine.

“No, it’s not. Because I haven’t told you everything that happened between us, and there’s no way it’s not coming up right now, and no matter what’s said, I need you to pretend like you already know all of it.”

“Uhh...” She glances behind me, and when I look over my shoulder, my family is standing on the grass waiting for us to get out of the car.

“Please, Jules,” I whisper, then take her hand and bring itto my lips. “There’s no way they’ll believe that this is real if you don’t already know the whole story.”

“When were you going to tell me?” she asks, her brow furrowing.

“When we got inside.” I brush my lips over her knuckles. “Please play along.”

Dropping her voice, she says, “I like it when you beg.” Then she turns and is opening her door, leaving me speechless for maybe the first time in my life.

Mom must go around to the passenger’s side the minute Jules’s door opens, because as I open my door, I’m face to face with my dad and my brother. On the other side of the car, I can hear Mom gushing over “finally” meeting my fiancée.

Dad holds his arms out and wraps me in a hug, and when I pull back, Gabriel extends his arm, offering me his hand to shake. I just look at it, then up to his face, nodding in acknowledgment before I head to the back of my SUV, popping open the lift gate and pulling out our bags.

Mom and Jules come around from the other side of the car, and my mom takes one look at my carry-on suitcase and Jules’s over-the-shoulder bag and says, “Where’s the rest of your stuff?”

I point at the suitcase and say, “That’s mine,” and then at the bag sitting on top. “That’s hers.”

“Wow, you pack light,” she says to Jules.

“I’m pretty low maintenance.”

Mom laughs and says, “Good. Someone in the relationship should be, and I know it’s not my son.” Then she introduces Jules to my dad and brother, and I don’t miss the wayGabriel eyes me after Jules shakes his hand, as if to say:See, at least she’s mature.

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