Page 64 of Beyond the Stroke

“What’s yours?”

Scarlett made me do one of those quizzes senior year. All three versions said the same thing, physical touch. I won’t be sharing that with Rory.

“Personal space.”

He chuckles. “That’s not a love language.”

“It is if you want me to even consider your proposal.”

Rory moves to the other side of the booth with a huge smile in place. “So, you’re still considering it?”

I stare at his handsome face filled with optimism and warmth. He’s a good guy. Why does he want to marry me?

Because it wouldn’t be real.He needs a decoy wife. Maybe my standoffishness is appealing for an arrangement like this.

“How do you know this arrangement won’t be miserable? We don’t know anything about each other.”

“That’s not true. I know you like pickles and Dr. Pepper. And I know you like painting.”

“What?” My heart rate ticks up a notch at his mention of me painting. “How?”

“The way your face lit up when I returned your paints.” His smile is soft, like he’s remembering the moment.

My heart pounds, but I swallow back the discomfort. “They were a gift from Scarlett. They meant a lot to me.”

“And Scarlett is your best friend and would know what kind of gift would make you happy.”

He lifts his brows.Gotcha.

“Fine. I paint. It’s a hobby.” I stir my straw around in my soda. “What about you?”

“Hobbies?” he asks.

I nod.

“Training and traveling for competitions take up most of my time, but I enjoy music. Going to concerts. When I’m in town, the Tunes & Tides concerts at the Emerald Beach band shell are a good time. Hanging out with the guys. Playing video games.” He takes a sip of his water. “Snuggling on the couch with my wife.”

“Ah, congratulations. Who’s the lucky lady?” I say with mock-sincerity.

“You,” he says, tossing me a wink.

My body responds by melting further into the cushioned booth.

“There wouldn’t be any snuggling.”

“Oh, come on. You know you get handsy when you’re sleeping.”

“I do not.”

The waitress arrives with our burgers and I take a moment to dress mine. Putting the onion and lettuce to the side, I stack the tomato and pickles on the burger before squeezing mustard on top of everything, then cut the burger in half.

I take a bite. As the blend of savory meat, sweet cheddar cheese, tangy mustard, and sour pickles hit my tongue, I sigh. Maybe it’s the chaos of the last few hours, but damn this is the best burger I’ve ever had.

I look up to find Rory’s burger hovering halfway to his mouth as he stares at me.

My eyebrows lift. “What?”

He blinks, realizing he’s caught. “Nothing.”

---