Page 9 of Festive Faking
Mac shoved off the wall, stalking closer to where I stood. Sweat graced my temples as I awaited his response.
I stopped breathing altogether when he stepped up behind me, his arms bracketing mine as he placed his hands atop where I gripped the chair.
His breath was hot against my ear as he murmured, “Sounds cozy.” Then he pressed his lips to the side of my neck.
Oh my God, I was going to pass out. His scent surrounded me, making my head swim and my vision blur.
His chest rumbled against my back, and my knees threatened to buckle. Why was he doing this?
Because he’s better at faking it than you are. He’s all in on this charade. You need to get on his level and fast, before everyone sees right through this act.
“The cabin sounds perfect. Thank you, Daisy, for your incredible hospitality.”
Those words sealed my fate.
Chapter 4
Mac
“Wow, you weren’t kiddingwhen you said one bedroom,” I mused as I stepped into the cabin after sharing dinner with Aspen’s family.
As an architect, I could appreciate that these older homes were solid; their bones could rival any house built with the materials available today. The exterior was rustic, the visible stacked logs dating the structure. But inside, it was more modern, even if it was small. And it wasn’t just one bedroom; it was one room total, not counting where a wall had been erected to cordon off an indoor bathroom that had been added at some point over the years.
There was a stone fireplace, with a loveseat set before it against the right wall. A kitchenette took up the left side, with a table that could be pulled down so it didn’t take up too much floor space. And against the back of the room rested a queen-sized bed.
“Tried to warn you,” Aspen grumbled under her breath as she flopped onto the bed with a sigh, dramatically throwing an arm over her face.
Watching her all flushed and flustered as her mother made it crystal-clear that she was cool with us having premarital sex was a rare treat. I might’ve stepped in sooner if it hadn’t made Aspen look even more beautiful. When her blue eyes pleaded with me to put a stop to the madness, a better man would have politely declined the offer to stay on her parents’ property out of respect. But this week was set to give me a taste of what it might have been like if Aspen Sullivan hadn’t written me off the first time we met, and I’d be damned if I was going to waste it.
“Are you seriously mad at me for leaning into the story we’re trying to sell?” I challenged.
It only took five strides to reach where Aspen lay sprawled on the mattress.
Her arm fell away when she sensed my presence, and she sat up suddenly. Gesturing wildly around the room, she yelled, “Take a look around! Every moment we aren’t with my family will now be spent in this enclosed space. Together.”
Didn’t sound so bad to me, but I knew what I was feeling for her was one-sided. There was no need to make this week any more awkward than it was already shaping up to be.
Shoving both hands in my pockets, I rocked back on my heels. “Yup. I can see that.”
Aspen groaned. “Why couldn’t you just say no?”
“Because you turn as red as a tomato when anyone suggests that we have a real relationship, and that’s a problem. I figured if we spent more time together, you’d relax enough for us to make it through this thing in one piece, without anyone being any the wiser that you can’t stand me.”
The words were muffled as she buried her face in her hands. “This was a terrible idea.”
“Too late to back out now.”
“Don’t remind me.” She bent in half, resting her forearms on her knees and took a few steadying breaths.
“I think dinner went well. Your dad’s not much of a talker, but I wouldn’t be either if I thought my daughter would be getting down and dirty with her boyfriend in this little love shack all week.”
She shot off the bed so quickly that I stepped back, instinctively covering my crotch. Judging by the wild look in her blue eyes and the way her nostrils flared, I’d set her right over the top and was now the sole target of her rage.
“You better sleep with one eye open tonight, Blaze,” she forced out through gritted teeth.
Apparently, I had a death wish because I couldn’t stop myself from teasing, “Are you a big spoon or a little spoon, Freckles? I prefer big spoon myself, but I’m flexible, seeing as this is your gig.”
Her brows rose to kiss her hairline, and she scoffed. “Oh, hell no. You have two options: the couch or the floor.”
