Page 39 of When the Fake Snow Falls

He catches my hand. “You think I’m lying?”

Looking up at him, I try my best to figure him out, but it’s useless. “I don’t know what to think.”

In one swift movement, he pulls me to him. “Then let me make this very clear.” He glances at my hand in his before meeting my stare again. “Nothing I say to you, tonight or any other night, is a lie. I might lay it on a little thicker than if we weren’t doing this, but I won’t lie to you, Candace.” He brushes my cheek with his free thumb, and I could get lost in the warmth of his eyes. “You’re beautiful. That’s just a fact.” He looks down at what I’m wearing, his jaw tensing. “And in that dress, you could break any man—not just me.”

He steps away, watching for my reaction, and I’m left with my head spinning. “Well, in that case, thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” His smile has shifted slightly to amusement, and I wonder how obvious it is that I’m struggling to breathe.

“Nice tattoo by the way.” He gestures toward my floral half sleeve. I guess all the shirts I’ve worn around him before have hidden it.

“Do you like tattoos?” I ask, curious if this is a good thing or if, like my brown hair, it’s just another thing to make me less his type.

Keeping his gaze fixed on the floral design on my arm for a moment, he swallows and nods. “Right now? Yes. Very much.” I let out a burst of laughter, and he grins. “Come on,” he says as he holds his hand out for me to take. “Let’s go.”

The way he looked at me lingers on my skin as his words echo in my head, and I have to force my feet to move forward.

I am in way over my head.

We walk out to the parking lot, and the only car parked this way is a Lexus.Of course. He would drive a car that’s nice without automatically making him look like an asshole. It isn’t too flashy, and it doesn’t come with a stigma attached to it—like how everyone who drives a BMW thinks they own the road.

When he clicks the button on the fob and confirms that’s the exact car we’re walking toward, I’m not sure if I should be relieved or disappointed. I still want to find something I don’t like about him. I need to sniff out his fatal flaw like a damn bloodhound and let go of this silly crush.

Keeping my hand in his, he walks with me around to the passenger side and opens the door. “Thank you,” I say as I sink into the seat. I think my plan is working as far as becoming desensitized goes. He held my hand for the entire walk to the car, and after the first few seconds, my breathing returned to normal. And a few seconds after that, my shoulders relaxed. I can do this. I can be around Chase as his friend. We can flirt and touch for the sake of keeping his predator of a boss at bay, and I think I’ll be able to keep my wits about me.

Resting his forearm on the open doorframe, he looks down at me with that easy smile of his. “How did I get so lucky to have met you?”

Oh, fuck him. With a shake of my head, I reach for the seatbelt. “Get in the car, Chase.”

He closes my door, but not before I catch a trace of a chuckle.

eighteen

We’re greetedoutside the restaurant by staff opening the doors for us. They seat us right away, and our server just asked me what type ofwaterI’d like to start with.

“Um—” My eyes jump to Chase for a fraction of a second. He’s sitting with both hands clasped in front of his mouth while he watches me with a trace of a smirk. I don’t know why I’m blanking. I know what types of water there are. Right? I’ve just never been to a restaurant this nice with a man this hot, and the combination is making my brain fuzzy.

“Spring is fine,” Chase answers for me, and I could kick myself. A great way to start out the night.

“Excellent,” our server, looking refined in a white button-down with a black vest, says with a grin. “I’ll have that right out.”

My eyes follow the man as he walks away. As nice as this place is, it isn’t stuffy. The guy who just took our water order has exposed tattoos on his forearms and bright blue glasses that remind me a little of Miles. It all helps to ease some of my nerves.

Chase catches me staring. “Blonde with tattoos. The only thing he’s missing is a beard, and he’d be your perfect man.”

I raise my eyebrows playfully. “Two out of three isn’t bad. Maybe I’ll go ask him what he’s doing later.” I set my napkin aside like I’m about to get up.

He points for me to sit with a trace of a smile pulling at his lips. “Not so fast. Tonight, you’re mine.”

Those words pour white heat into me, but I do my best to hide it. Tilting my head innocently, I ask, “You’d stand in the way of love?”

He reaches for his napkin, unfolding it and placing it on his lap. “I would. You might not know me that well yet, but I’m very selfish.”

Yet.It’s such a trivial word, but in that sentence, it could knock me out of my chair.

The teasing glint in his eyes helps me recover. “Fine,” I say with a dramatic sigh. “I guess I’ll just have to come back here on my own to seduce him.”

“I have no doubt you could.” Something new flashes in those eyes, but it’s gone in the matter of seconds. If I didn’t know better, I’d think it was a hint of hunger—desire?

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