Page 9 of Fake Out Forever

I’m attracted to the man. Even worse? I like him. And despite my most valiant efforts, I haven’t stopped thinking about him for three years.

I’m doomed.

I grab a pillow, toss it over my face, and let out a small shriek.

If his smug smile stops making me weak in the knees or if his deep-blue eyes stop burning my skin, I might survive this horrible encounter unscathed.

He’s a hockey player.

And I can’t fall for a hockey player.

I just can’t.

I stare at the ceiling, ticking through my options. I can stay in this room and brood until AAA rescues my car. But that would be rude. I can pretend to be the Ice Princess the world thinks that I am and make Cade’s life a living hell. But that would be going too far. Or I can take a shower, get dressed, and make Cade breakfast as a thank you for helping me. I settle on option three. The storm is holding us captive. Our time together doesn’t have to be miserable.

I climb out of bed and remind myself that I am a strong-willed woman with rock-solid control over my emotions. And I can one thousand percent remain in the friend zone with Cade Wylie.

When I turn on the shower, the image of Cade’s blinding white smile from last night makes my knees wobble, my heart flutter, and my brain grinds to a halt.

“Oh, my God.” I slap my hand over my mouth.

With vivid clarity, I understand… I’m not in control.

I’m in trouble.

Big, big trouble.

I’m turning smoked apple thick-cut bacon strips when the door at the back of the kitchen opens. Cade freezes in the doorway.

“Are you cooking?”

The disbelief in his voice is irritating. “Don’t look so surprised.” I turn off the burner.

“I don’t want you to take this the wrong way, duchess.” He takes off his coat and hangs it on a hook. “But I don’t see you as the domestic type.”

“I made the salad last night.” I huff.

“Chopping vegetables isn’t the same as cooking.”

A few minutes ago, I was terrified I might make a horrible mistake and sleep with Cade Wylie. Now I’m worried I might toss the pan of bacon grease at his face. “You’re a caveman.”

I open the oven to take out a tray of muffins.

“Are those muffins?”

“No, they’re rocks.” I lift the lid off the pan of eggs. “And these aren’t eggs, either.” I shoot him a glare. “In case you were wondering.”

He stares at me for a heartbeat, then yanks his coat off the hook. “I’ll be right back.” I suck in a breath watching him leave. There’s something wrong with him. Desperately wrong.

Suddenly, the door flies open.

“Mmmmm…” He walks into the kitchen, flashing one of his killer smiles. “Something smells divine.” He takes off his coat and hangs it on a hook.

“What are you doing?” I wipe my hands on a kitchen towel and toss it over my shoulder.

“Starting over, duchess.” He saunters over and smells the muffins. “Banana. My favorite.”

I hold my hand over my chest as my heart decides to do summersaults.

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