Page 24 of Knot a Good Idea

I chew slowly, still in shock at the amount now in my bank account. “I can’t take this money. I haven’t even decided if I’m able to do this with you.”

“It’s yours regardless,” Donovan says, watching as I take a sip of wine.

“And if I say yes? What happens next?”

“You would meet the others, and we would go over boundaries and expectations, then the contract.”

“When?”

“By the end of the week at the latest.”

“And how soon is the first event you would need me at?”

“Two weeks from now.”

I let out a slow breath. “And where would we be going?”

“You would meet everyone at our house in Stone County.”

Ofcoursehe’s in Stone County. It’s the richest area in California, tucked away near breathtaking views of snowy mountains and woods.

I can hear Skylar screaming in my head to do it. She’s talked about Stone County more than once, daydreaming about opening a café there and charging fifty dollars a cookie.

“Just meet with my packmates once,” Donovan says softly. “Please.”

Thepleaseis so quiet I’m not sure if I imagined it. But his sky blue eyes are vulnerable and earnest, and his ocean scent makes my mouth water.

I know I need to meet new people, especially ones that don’t know my past.

And so, as foolish as it may be, I nod.

“Okay,” I whisper.

Donovan,without the added pressure of his offer, is good company. He’s smart, well spoken, and as Skylar put it, has his shit together.

Which is why this agreement is bittersweet.

He’s looking for someone to pretend to date—he’s not interested in a real relationship.

To be fair, I’m not in any place to be in a relationship, anyway.

Still, the idea that he didn’t wantmeand only wants someone on his arm stings.

The money in my bank account helps ease the pain, though.

“The end of the week?” he asks me as we pull into my driveway. “Are we in agreement?”

Before I can open my door, it opens automatically for me. He’s at my side in an instant and I take his hand, his warm palm engulfing mine, and do my best to ignore the electricity that shoots up my spine.

“We are,” I say, keeping my voice as even as I can. I don’t want to let him know how much he affects me.

He walks me to my front door, and we both linger for a moment. The porch light illuminates the contours of his sharp jawline, and I wish this had been a real date.

“I’ll be in touch,” he says softly. “Have a good night, April.”

“You too,” I murmur. I shut the door behind me quickly, trepidation building in my stomach.

What the hell did I just agree to?

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