Page 6 of Fake Out Forever

“You just want to torture me, don’t you?”

“If I wanted to torture you, I would have left you in the snow.” Cade opens the refrigerator. “Now, hurry up and get changed out of those wet clothes. You can help me with dinner.” He gives me a smirk that makes my toes curl. “That is if you’re not afraid of the kitchen.”

“You are insufferable.”

“Change.” He sets a head of lettuce on a cutting board along with fresh tomatoes, cucumbers, and an onion. “You can make the salad as long as you don’t use the knife to carve out my heart.”

“Don’t tempt me.”

“Upstairs.” He points to the doorway.

“I’m going not because you’re telling me to but because I want to get away from you.” And because I’m freezing to death in these wet clothes. But I’m not going to give him the satisfaction of letting him know he’s right.

I march down the long hallway and step into a gorgeous open living room. The walls are cedar-lined. There are exposed beams. A sweeping staircase, and everywhere I turn, there are massive windows that frame unbelievable woodland views. In the center of the room is a huge double-sided fieldstone fireplace.

It’s exactly the kind of house I want to build.

As I walk up the staircase, I’m startled that we have the same taste. I pass by Thomas Kinkade artwork and can’t believe it. We like the same art, too? When I peek into the rooms and see rustic furniture decorated in blues and greens accented with shades of soft ivory, my stomach trembles.

It’s the exact color scheme I would choose.

It’s a fluke.

Nothing but a coincidence.

There is no way on earth I have anything in common with Cade Wylie. How could I? He’s arrogant. Pigheaded. And obnoxious. Which, of course, I am not.

I thrust out my chin and make my way to the bedroom.

I’m stuck with this horrible man for now.

And as soon as I can, I’m leaving.

5

CADE

In oversized pale pink cardigan.

A pair of black yoga pants.

And a white ribbed turtleneck.

Ordinary clothes.

But as I watch Maya walk into the kitchen wearing them, I have to make a quick pivot to hide the growing bulge in my jeans. On her, it’s the sexiest outfit I’ve ever seen. And when my eyes scan to the floor and see the thermal socks she’s wearing, I might just have to excuse myself to take a cold shower.

What in the hell?

This woman doesn’t want a damn thing to do with me, but my body obviously doesn’t care. She saunters over to the counter, picks up a knife, and starts dicing tomatoes, and all I am thinking about is bending her over the counter.

I need a drink.

“Duchess, I’m going to have a beer. Would you like one?”

She glares at me for a heartbeat while chewing on her bottom lip. “You aren’t going to call me by name, are you?”

“Duchess suits you. It’s better than Ice Princess.”

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