Page 30 of Brazen Being It

“You know, I’m not your wife,” I murmur, pulling my knees up to my chest, chin resting on them. “Yet.”

He shrugs, leaning back on his hands, stretching long and slow like a cat. “Technicalities.”

Little Foot looks at me like I already belong to him—like the fact hasn’t caught up to me yet, but he’s willing to wait. Or maybe not even wait. Just be next to me. With me. In whatever this is turning into.

There’s a coffee mug between us. Mine, half-drunk and not quite sweet enough. He doesn’t even like coffee, but he keeps it stocked for me, and I won’t dare tell him it’s not my favorite thing. It means so much that he even has this level of consideration for me. That’s the kind of thing he does. Quiet care. No performance. No angles.

The air smells like dew and pine, and something about the light, the way it hits his jaw, makes everything feel deeper.

He watches me, and I feel it like a touch—warm, wondering, a little amused. “You’re thinking too much.”

“I’m not,” I lie, softly.

“You are. You get that crease between your eyebrows when you’re trying not to.”

I smooth it away without thinking. “Maybe I just don’t know how to sit still in something good.”

Little Foot turns to face me fully now, his eyes serious under the playfulness. “You don’t have to know how. Just stay in it with me. That’s enough.”

My heart trips over itself. Stupid, soft thing.

I nod. It’s barely more than a breath, but he sees it. He feels it.

And then he leans in.

No warning. No dramatic music cue. Just the two of us and the early morning and the quiet press of his mouth against mine.

It’s slow. Gentle. Not asking for anything more than the moment. His lips are warm, his hand grazing my jaw like he’s afraid I’ll vanish if he holds on too tight.

I don’t disappear. I lean in. I kiss him back.

The world doesn’t stop turning, but it feels like it does. Just for a second. Just for us.

When we pull apart, he doesn’t say anything. He just brushes his thumb along my cheek, barely there, and gives me that smile—the one that says he’s already sure of me. Of this.

“I don’t know what this means yet,” I whisper, because I have to say it. “But I want to find out.”

Little Foot nods once. “Together.”

And just like that, the morning feels a little warmer.

The fake marriage. The real chemistry. And now... the beginning of the lie that’s about to take on a life of its own.

Ready or not, I’m all in.

And I’m not looking back.

SEVEN

DREW

When the lines blur things become clear somehow.

The lie is startingto feel real.

Cambria fits. Better than I ever expected. She walks the compound like she was born into it—head high, eyes sharp, mouth smarter than most of the patched men around here. They test her, sure. Subtle digs. Half-serious challenges. But she doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t cower.

And when she’s standing next to me?

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