Page 35 of Fore-Ever Yours

His face as he nervously asks me to work for him…and fake date him.

His hands drumming to the beat on the steering wheel.

His smile as he spins me around in the hotel room.

And how handsome he looks in a tux.

The intensity in his eyes while we dance at the gala.

A smile begins to form on my lips when I’m startled by Matthew nudging me.

“Welcome to North Carolina,” Matthew says with a more genuine expression this time.

Maybe he is perfectly fine.

As we walk through the airport and gather our luggage, I give myself a pep talk. A stern talking to. One to get my head on straight. I know…I’ve done this before. But I just need a little reminder. Maybe the more times I repeat it, the more my brain (and this feeling in my chest) will get the message.

Matthew Wilkes is my client.

And also kind of my boss.

He’s off-limits.

This is a F-A-K-E (saying it louder for the little feeling creatures in the back) relationship.

I need to focus on my job and do it right so I can attract new clients, ones who I’ll strictly be a brand manager for. No more of this fake dating stuff.

As we drive, we go from cityscapes to lush greenery. The buildings get further away from each other, and towering trees line either side of the road with wildflowers blooming. It makes my heart ache for home, but not the same ache as the one I had before, when I was in college. It’s a little different, and I’m not sure why.

The creator in me picks up my phone to record a short video of the scenery rolling by.

“It’s beautiful,” I say, my voice tinged with awe.

“Yeah, I’ve missed it,” he replies, sounding nostalgic.

“How long since you’ve been home?”

“Not that long ago, right before Meadowbrook. But it seems like so much has happened since then.”

“Like pretending to have a girlfriend?” The words tumble out before I can stop them. I wince at my own audacity.

He chuckles, a warm, deep sound that rumbles in his chest. “Yeah, something like that.”

“Are you nervous to see your family?”

He shrugs, staring out the window. “Not really.”

His fingers drum on the center console, and not to the beat this time.

Liar.

“Matthew, it’s okay to admit it this time, unlike at the gala.” I reach my hand over his drumming fingers and squeeze. “We’re a team, remember?”

His eyes dart to our hands, then to me, surprise evident in his green irises.

I slowly put my hand back in my lap but continue talking like that didn’t send a thousand volts of electricity through me.

I promised myself not to become a rom-com trope, and yet, here I am. Falling for the fake boyfriend.

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