Page 6 of Dirty Secret Love

But to be honest, the service in this library is terrible at best. Sutton has too many fucking rules. She won’t give me a library card, or allow me to use the computers, and she’s constantly reminding me to keep quiet when Bach and I start bickering. It’s not like the place is swamped with people trying to work. It’s usually just Bach and I—or just me. If I was in DC, things would be different. I could tell her if she fucking knew who I was, but she doesn’t.

River Thorndale is no one in this town. Actually, I can’t even say my real last name to the people of Heartwood Lake, or CQS will kick not just me but the entire family out of the program.

Sutton rummages in her drawer, the soft rustling of papers filling the brief silence. She pulls out a stack of cards and regards me with a challenging look. “I need to see your driver’s license or any other government issued ID.”

I gawk at her, appalled. “It’s not enough that I’m my uncle’s nephew? He’s the sheriff of this town, the most trusted person in Heartwood Lake.” Okay, maybe I’m playing it a little too thick, but this woman has to loosen up and let me take books out of this place. It’s not like I’m going to run away with them.

This is why Bach would be great for her. He can show her how to live and . . . could he? I mean, he’s also a little too goody-two-shoes and a rule follower. Maybe I’m trying to fix her up with the wrong Thorndale.

She chuckles a warm, melodic sound that resonates deeper than I expect, sending an unexpected shiver down my spine. My body reacts in a way I hadn’t anticipated, catching me off guard. I mentally shake myself. I’m close to looking down at my crotch and saying “Down, boy” but instead, I focus on Sutton.

“Actually,” she begins, her voice dripping with amusement, “I’m the most trusted person in town, not him. So . . . no, you don’t get to leave with a book.”

I shoot her a playful wink and a teasing smile. “But I’ll take great care of them. Promise not to dog-ear pages.” I cross my heart and, with a flirtatious tilt of my head, add, “I’ll even read the books bedtime stories.”

Sutton’s posture changes, her body subtly angling toward mine. The earlier indifference seems to have melted away, replaced by genuine interest. “You’d do anything, huh?”

“Absolutely,” I confirm, matching her intensity.

She narrows her gaze, her eyes sharp and calculating. “For a book?”

Okay, now we’re talking. Seems like she’s open to negotiations. Maybe I can convince her to let me use her computer. This is perfect. Leaning in a little, and with an encouraging smirk, I say, “Well, for more than one book, of course.”

There’s a slight tilt of her head, and her fingers idly tap on the counter. “So, if I give you access to the sci-fi books, you’ll do anything?” she probes, searching my eyes.

I chuckle. “Almost anything. I draw the line at becoming an accessory to murder.” I wag a finger at her playfully. “But other than that, negotiations are open. Perhaps I could lend a hand around the library? You know, an exchange of services.”

Okay, so I shouldn’t be flirting with her, but what if . . . I get a little more than books and computer time. What if I’m the one who gets to fuck her? It wouldn’t be bad. I mean, she’s gorgeous. Dark hair, beautiful big brown eyes, and a body that’s made to worship. I’m in if she agrees to it.

My wandering thoughts are cut off when she suddenly waves a dismissive hand. The playful air between us shifts, replaced by something unexpected and heavier. “All I need,” she says, her voice steady with a hint of vulnerability peeking through, “is for you to be my fiancé for a few weeks—a month at most.”

I blink in surprise, taking a moment to process her unexpected request. The atmosphere in the room grows thick, charged with tension and uncertainty.

Did I hear right? She wants me to be her . . . fiancé?

ChapterThree

River

Fiancé.The word resonates inside my head.

Did she really just ask me to pretend to be engaged to her?

That’s definitely not what I expected her to ask. The audacity of the request leaves me momentarily stunned. I clear my throat, trying to find the right words, and finally manage to ask, “Your fiancé? As in, I dropped to one knee, offered you a ring, and now we’re planning our big day?”

“Yes,” she says, her lips curving into a small, confident smile.

“Your fiancé?” I repeat, swallowing the huge lump forming in my throat.I can’t help but stare, my heart pounding unusually hard. “Your fiancé?” I repeat again, trying to grasp the enormity of what she’s asking. My gaze travels over her, taking in her delicate features—the sharp cheekbones, expressive large brown eyes, and full lips. A woman of her stature and beauty could easily date any man.

Why would she need to fake an engagement?

Why fake it?

And why me?

So many questions hit me at once. All I can ask is, “Why?”

She hesitates, biting her lower lip before she begins her explanation. I’m expecting anything, but for her to tell me about her family. Demanding parents, nasty siblings, and how they criticize her for not being toxic like they are. The way her voice cracks when she speaks of her sister’s engagement and how she’s used as a comparison, it’s clear she’s desperate.

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