Page 1 of The Bad Boy's Fake Wife

Chapter 1

Emma

Ofallthecoffeeshops in all the towns, he had to walk into mine on the morning I decided to look like a sleep-deprived raccoon. The universe clearly has a personal vendetta against me.

When Jonathan Thomson waltzes into the coffee shop where I’m waiting first thing in the morning, my stomach drops like a stone. Every muscle in my body screams at me to run, to disappear before he sees me. I wonder what’s more mortifying: being forced to share space with Jonathan after years apart, or the awful fact that my hair looks like a squirrel made a nest in it.

I entertain the wild notion that the earth might just swallow me up, dragging me down before Jonathan’s gaze can lock onto mine, before he can see the disaster that is my hair and the exhaustion clinging to me like a second skin. But Grover Hill isn’t exactly earthquake country, and the universe rarely listens to my wishes. Still, there’s a first time for everything, I suppose.

“You look like you just saw a ghost,” Mia observes from beside me, keeping one eye on the counter—still oblivious to Jonathan’s arrival thanks to her notorious shortsightedness.

“This is worse than a ghost,” I mutter, quickly averting my gaze from Jonathan before he catches me gawking. If I ignore him long enough, maybe he’ll vanish, or at least figure out he’s in the wrong place.

Mia peeks over my shoulder. “What were you looking at? Did you see someone?” Her eyes dart around as she searches the shop for something worse than a ghost, and her gasp is loud enough for half the town to hear it.

“It’s Jonathan!” she blurts, staring at him. “I can’t believe it—I haven’t seen him in years!”

Of course, as luck would have it, he appears on the very day I return to Grover Hill, before I’ve had a chance to settle in and still reek of travel and desperately need a shower.

“He can’t see me like this!” I squeak. “Quick, hide me before he reaches the counter!”

Mia frowns. “I thought you hated him. So why do you care how you look?”

My eyes narrow. Can’t she see this is a catastrophe? This calls for immediate action—Jonathan can never see me like this. You never let the person who always gets under your skin see you at your worst!

“Oh, trust me, I donotcare about how I look. I just don’t want to deal with Jonathan. He irritates me like no one else.” I sigh, barely noticing the concern on Mia’s face. “Running into him today is just not what I need.”

“Didn’t expect a warm welcome, but ouch,” says a voice behind me, laced with dry amusement. I jump, heat rushing to my face as I turn to see Jonathan standing there, his expression guarded but his lips quirking up slightly. “Didn’t mean to interrupt your grand re-entrance,” he says, his tone light, yet there’s a hint of something I can’t quite read.

My jaw drops and my cheeks burn with embarrassment—he heard every word I said. Embarrassment twists inside me, yet my anger and loathing eclipse it.

I face him, his strikingly handsome face contorted into a frown, his mocking glare daring me to speak first. Once this had been a game between us—who would break the silence? I always lost.

“You’re insufferable, you know that?” I glare at him.

He tilts his head. “Geez, have you looked in a mirror? I’ve never met anyone as insufferable as you.”

I hear Mia stifling a snicker, and try to ignore it. My energy is waning after the long journey back to town.

“I can’t believe this is how my first day back is unfolding,” I sigh, taking a seat at the counter. If I just ignore him, maybe he’ll leave. Or if I pretend he doesn’t exist, he might simply vanish.

But to my dismay, he slides into the seat next to me and asks, “You’re back for good? I thought you were off in the big city chasing your dreams.”

I exhale sharply. “Not everyone gets to chase their dreams without limits, Jonathan. Some of us have to make hard choices.” Instantly, I regret the outburst as I meet his disapproving gaze.

Jonathan’s face remains guarded, though his jaw tightens for the briefest moment. He shifts his weight slightly, his fingers tapping against the counter before stilling. A flicker of something—annoyance? Something else?—crosses his features before he simply exhales and offers no retort. I feel a hollow pang, maybe a slight urge to apologize, but I hold my tongue. What would I even say? That I didn’t mean to snap, that my frustration wasn’t really about him? That would be a lie. And yet, the longer the silence stretches, the more I wonder if I’m the one who’s changed, or if Jonathan has always had this ability to unsettle me in ways I don’t fully understand.

Mia finally says, “Are you two going to order, or should I start charging admission for this show? A little less tension and a little more coffee, please—bad vibes aren’t on the menu.”

Before I can protest, Jonathan leans in slightly, just for a second, like he’s testing if the familiarity still lingers between us. Then he straightens and says, “I’ll have an iced Americano, and you’ll have your usual soy latte.”

I stare, my pulse quickening, mouth slightly open. “You really think you can still read my mind after all these years?”

Jonathan raises an eyebrow. “I remember you always refused almond milk, said it ruined the taste.” He smirks. “Let me guess—if it were fall, you’d have some seasonal concoction instead?”

“Uh…”

Have I slipped into an alternate universe? What’s happening here? After all these years, how could he possibly remember my coffee habits? Warmth stirs in my chest before I can push it away—the quiet kind that comes with being seen, even when I don’t want to be. It unsettles me, but there’s something undeniably sweet about it, too.

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