Page 83 of The Guy Who Fake Dated Me

Last night her stuff had been scattered everywhere. Now the bottles, arranged from tallest to shortest, lined up against the mirror. The tubes—also in size order—lay in front of the bottles, and everything else had been neatly placed.

On further inspection, I found zero spots on the mirror, and the sink had been wiped clean.

Maybe she’d had a bunch of excess energy she’d needed to burn off.

I understood that, so I jumped into the shower and let the water burn some of my apprehension away.

I’d lain awake for hours the night before imagining what our life would be like if Victoria and I got married.

Yes, it was a jump from “I love you” to marriage, but I was a traditional guy, and unless everything fell apart, that was the next step.

Eventually.

I’d also studied my schedule, looking for times that I could come visit over the next two months. It would help if it wasn’t a ferry ride and then a long bus ride to the nearest airport from my house. Victoria could be at her airport and board a plane within an hour. My trek was much longer.

But that hadn’t stopped me from flagging a few days that I had a lighter schedule at the Moose and looking for flights.

Once I’d washed my hair and rinsed off, I climbed out and used a towel to dry my skin.

Yes, I’d checked for the towel before I’d gotten into the shower. Mostly because I wasn’t sure what my reaction would be with only a scrap of cloth hanging between the two of us.

A knock sounded from Victoria’s door, and I jumped.

“You almost finished?” she asked. “I need to pee.”

“One minute.” I quickly used my deodorant, brushed my hair, and then clicked the lock. “I’m heading out.”

She waited until she’d heard me shut my side before she entered. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

I got dressed, knowing it would take her a few minutes to wake up and use the toilet. We were going to spend all day in nice clothes, but I didn’t want to get into my button-down shirt yet, so I threw a T-shirt on with my slacks.

A few minutes later, I was looking at flights, and the door from the bathroom creaked open an inch. “Are you decent?”

“Yup.” I put my phone down and grinned as she came out. She was still wearing a pair of scandalously short pink bottoms and an even pinker tank top. This wasn’t my first time seeing her in her pajamas, but it was the first time she’d done her hair before coming out of her room in the morning.

Maybe she was trying to impress me. It was working. I stood and went to her.

Her grin started on one end of her lips, and by the time I slipped my fingers behind her neck, it had encompassed her whole face. “Morning,” she said.

Our lips met, and all of the anxiety that had been building in me melted away. I’d honestly been expecting morning breath, but she’d brushed her teeth.

After a few seconds, I straightened up. “Coffee?”

“Mmmm.” She nodded.

“Black roast with cream, right?” I slid my hand down her back.

She nodded again.

“It’ll be here when you’re finished.”

Without the heels from the night before, she had to go up on her toes to reach my lips. She did so now, her chest brushing against mine, and I breathed in the feeling of her lips thanking me.

Then we broke apart, and she went back into the bathroom.

I wondered if the windows in the suite could open so I could get some fresh air. I shook my head and pulled my phone out to call down for coffee. After I took care of that, I went to sit on the couch, and my phone rang.

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