Page 42 of Love You Truly

“You went quiet when Gene mentioned your dad. And it’s not like him to miss an event like this when he’s better at working the crowd than anyone. I haven’t seen him for months. Is everything okay?”

I open my mouth and promptly shut it, unprepared to answer her question or even entertain the idea that she’s someone I could confide in. A fake marriage is one thing. Sharing personal family secrets is entirely different.

“Everything’s fine,” I say with an edge in my voice. She hears it. Her eyes dart around, and she bites her bottom lip, deciding whether to press me or not. Finally, she nods.

“Okay.”

“Okay. Thank you for leaving it alone.”

She nods again. “Sure.”

I look away, but I can feel her studying me. I know I should probably tell her about my dad’s condition, but I’m not sure yet if I can trust her. Better to keep our most sensitive family secrets to myself for now.

Instead, I lead her farther from the crowd.

This is one of those moments we talked about, a quick instance when we slip away but stay in view of enough people to get them talking if they see us sneak a kiss. Or something more salacious.

Mallory looks at me expectantly because she sees the opportunity for what it is. Now it’s on me to pull out my best acting chops. I kind of wish I’d taken my theater elective more seriously back in tenth grade, but it’s bygones now.

“I brought you a present.”

“Oh, aren’t you sweet?”

I roll my eyes. “Yes. Sweet enough to follow instructions.”

She laughs, and it sounds like bells. I want to clear everyone out of the room or stop them from talking so I can listen to this sound without distraction.

I take a small package from the breast pocket of my jacket and hand it to her. “Sorry, I didn’t have time to wrap it.”

Mallory turns it over in her hand, and the wrapper crinkles. So do the corners of her eyes when she smiles down at the Mallomar candy in her hand. And the tiny flecks of gold dance in her eyes when she looks up at me.

“It’s perfect. Thank you.” She wraps her arms around my neck and nuzzles my cheek. She’s very good at playing this game. Too good. I need to keep my wits about me.

I encircle her waist with one hand and feel her relax into my hold. Sliding a knuckle beneath her chin, I tip her face up to angle toward mine.

She has the same determined look I saw at the bar that night, ready to do what’s necessary to convince anyone looking that we’re a couple madly in love.

Fine. I can do that too. I block out everyone else in the room, which is easy because I only want to look at her. Plump lips, a wave of heat in her steely eyes. What man would be crazy enough to be this close and not kiss her?

When my lips graze hers, I feel her tremble in my arms. She doesn’t hesitate to kiss me back, angling her face to meet mine.

I don’t need to pull out any acting chops to bring this home. It feels too good, and she’s too perfect. So expert at this game that I forget for a moment that it’s an act. I kiss her the way I’ve been wanting to since that night at the bar when I barely got a taste of her cherry-sweet lips.

Moving my hands into her hair, I’m oblivious now to anyone who might see us. I’m taking what I want right now, and it’s not for anyone else’s benefit. Except maybe hers…because the way she moans softly as I deepen the kiss can’t be heard by anyone else.

Makes me wonder again if maybe, just maybe, she’s feeling something for me. And as much as that kind of terrifies me because this is business, a bigger part of me wants her to feel it. I want her to feel what I can’t deny I feel.

When we break the kiss, Mallory inhales a long, shaky breath that mirrors how I feel. She wipes her bottom lip with the back of one knuckle and looks up at me, a shy smile playing on her face. “That oughtta do it,” she says.

“Yeah. Guess so.”

I immediately shut down the shreds of feelings that threaten to derail this entire plan because there can be none.

Eyes on the prize, Dash.

I know very clearly what that prize is—all the cabernet grapes we’ll ever need to ensure long-term growth at Buttercup Hill. That can be my only focus. Tiny thoughts about Mallory being an even bigger prize—one I’m starting to believe I want even more than I want what’s good for our business—can never enter into the equation.

I know this, and yet…the more I play the role of a guy in love with the woman who’s too good for him, the more I find myself starting to believe it.

---