Page 11 of Faking It with My Bossy Ex

“You’re not?” Marge’s eyes widen and she shakes her head. “Of course, but this would be the perfect opportunity to set aside old grudges and start anew. That’s what the Christmas spirit is about, anyway.”

She leans toward Amy, “You never know what will happen along the way.”

I’m barely containing my laughter and can tell Amy’s about to cave because who could say no to Marge? And the only way to get away from her uncomfortable teasing is to agree with her.

“I suppose I could consider helping.” Amy grinds her response out through clenched teeth, a promise of revenge in her bright eyes. Marge nods enthusiastically, then gives Amy's arm a squeeze and waves to me before she rushes out of the study room.

“What do you think you're doing?” she seethes.

“Me? This was all Marge’s doing. I had no idea.” How unfortunate, we’re stuck working together. My mind races with all the possibilities.

“There's no way I can help you with all of this. What even is this?” Her eyes widen as she takes in the disaster, and I can't help but smile. That deer-in-headlights look? Still adorable.

“These are all their records. I need to sort through them for the budget and financials. Getting this right is crucial for the community center project. Without it, the project can't even start.” Am I guilting her right now?

“Oh, and I'm also supposed to keep the schedule on track. Looks like that's part of the job, too.” I add, hoping to appeal to the old Amy's love for town projects.

Amy’s mouth opens slightly. The uncertainty on Amy's face is palpable.

Do something. Make her stay.

I step closer, my eyes never leaving hers.

“Look, Amy, I didn't plan this little reunion, but here we are, and Snowfall Springs needs us. You gonna bail on your hometown?”

She tilts her head up, defiance flashing in those green eyes. She’s so close I can see the faint freckles across her nose. My finger itches to trace her cheek.

Focus. She's not mine to touch anymore.

“Our town's counting on us,” I continue, my voice low and firm. “Marge is drowning here. We can sort this mess out in no time if we work together. What do you say? For old times' sake?”

“Like partners?” There's a hint of something in her voice—maybe curiosity?

I can't help the smirk that spreads across my face. “Not quite, sweetheart. I'll be in charge. That’s why Marge brought me on board. She's betting on my financial expertise here. But,” I add, holding her gaze, “I need your skills to make this work. You always did have a knack for keeping my attention focused.”

The punch she lands on my arm is about as effective as a kitten's swat. But before I can savor my victory, she's spinning on her heel, making a beeline for the door.

Not so fast, Ames.

I reach out, catching her hand and pulling her back. The contact sends a jolt of electricity straight to my heart, reminding me why it’s beating.

“Running away already? And here I thought you liked a challenge.” I raise an eyebrow, daring her to prove me wrong.

She hesitates, and I seize the moment.

“Come on, Ames. The town needs us. The community center needs us. Think of all the kids who'll have a place to go.”

Her brow furrows, a mix of skepticism and amusement playing across her face.

“The children? Really, Dylan?”

I can't help but chuckle.

“Alright, the community center, the people, the mothers … whoever's going to use the place. You know what I mean.”

“I'm not getting you coffee,” she says flatly.

“Tea, then?” I suggest, unable to resist pushing her buttons.

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