Page 36 of Holiday Love
And somehow, just like that, I’ve roped myself into fake-dating the hot, half-naked man who lives in my guest room.
What could possibly go wrong?
***
I finish tossing the last of the groceries into the fridge, then join Teddy on the couch. He sits with his cast sprawled out, wearing my robe like he owns the place.
“All right,” he says, my sticky notepad in his hand. “Let’s figure out the details of this fake relationship.”
I raise an eyebrow as I drop onto the seat beside him. “You’re really into this, aren’t you?”
“Eating it up,” he says, then clears his throat. “First question. Our meet-cute. Coffee shop? Grocery store? Wedding-related incident? Something with spark. Maybe danger. Possibly bears—”
I cut him off. “Teddy. We already have a meet-cute.”
He blinks, catching up. “Wait. You mean when you and Gwen came for drinks at my bar? When I was working?”
“You kissed my hand, remember?” I try to keep it casual, but the words come out sharper than I intend. The fact that he doesn’t remember that moment the way I do, with vivid, excruciating clarity, stings more than I want to admit. I tack on, “Very Regency drama of you. Very Mr. Darcy.”
Hearing the snark in my tone, Teddy protests. “I was being charming! Also trying to piss Gwen off.”
“Well, it worked.” I blow out a breath and give him a rueful smile. Softer, I add, “On both counts.”
That settles him down. Quieter now, he watches me in a thoughtful lingering way. “You were staring at me.”
“No, I wasn’t,” I say, a little too quickly. “I was just…surprised. I didn’t expect you to be so…”
“Brillant? Charming? Devastatingly handsome?”
“Shameless,” I say flatly, even as my face burns.
I cross my arms over my chest, aware that this conversation is like walking across a field full of landmines. One wrong step, and I’ll blow up the easy truce between us. “Let’s use it. That first meeting. There was fake snow and you were working at the bar.”
Teddy snaps his fingers. “Yes! You were wearing that red dress, with your hair up. Your ponytail bobbed every time you moved.”
I freeze, my stomach giving a slow, unsteady flip. Hushed, I ask, “You remember all that?”
“How could I not?” Teddy shrugs, like it’s obvious. His gaze softens, becomes unfocused as if he’s replaying it in his head. “I saw you and thought, ‘Whoisthat?’”
Another flutter of my stomach, like I’m made of champagne and he’s making all my bubbles fizz. I look away quickly, hoping he doesn’t see the flush creeping up my neck. I’m not used to being remembered like that. To having someone pay such close attention to me.
While I struggle to regain my composure, Teddy writes:Met at bar. Hit it off. No one stared. Definitely no swooning.
“Teddy!” I cry out when I see what he’s written. I lunge forward to grab the sticky note, but he just laughs and effortlessly holds it out of my reach. He rips it off and slaps it on the table with a flourish.
“Stop editorializing,” I growl, only half-irritated. A few more seconds of staring at those words and the absurdity of our situation hits me square in the chest. “This is insane,” I mutter, dragging my fingers through my hair. “There is no way we’re pulling this off.”
Teddy leans back, propping his cast on the coffee table. “Why not?”
“Because I am terrible at this,” I answer, tugging at the collar of my shirt. “I’ve never been a good liar.”
He sits up a little, his expression softening. “Hey, breathe. It’s fake dating, not brain surgery. You’ve got this.”
“I’m serious.” I try the breathing thing. Doesn’t help. “What if she sees right through it? What if I screw it up? What if—”
“Then I’ll step in and save it with a dazzling fake boyfriend monologue,” Teddy says, with a smirk. “I’ll hold your hand dramatically. Gaze into your eyes like we’re in a rom-com. Maybe whisper something meaningful about our ‘first kiss’ while your mom dabs away tears.”
I make a strangled sound.
