Page 95 of The Guy Who Fake Dated Me

I watched as he bit his lip in anticipation.

“There should be a bank card, business credit card, an insurance card, and some cash along with a piece of paper.” After a moment, his shoulders relaxed. “That’s mine. Thank you so much. Sounds good.” He handed me the receiver and heaved a sigh of relief.

“They have it?” I hung up the phone.

“Yes. Someone turned it in last night, and it sounds like everything is in there.”

“Good.” I reached out and squeezed his hand. “Disaster averted.”

He gave me a grin. “For a second, I thought you’d hidden it so I couldn’t go back.”

I snapped my fingers. “Great idea. I’m going to file that away for next time.”

“Naughty girl.” He tugged me to him and kissed me.

I stiffened for a moment, remembering my morning breath, but forced myself to relax.

And man was it good. How could this keep getting better and better when I’d been sure that our kiss on the balcony had been the best?

Is this how it would always be with us? I wanted it to be.

Logan’s lips moved from mine to my cheek and then to my neck. I couldn’t help the little sigh of pleasure, and I felt him smile.

“Oh yeah?” he asked as he started down the other side of my neck.

“Mmm.”

After an unspecified amount of time that was entirely too short, Logan stopped and looked at me. “I already miss you.”

I grinned. “Same.” I stared into the blue eyes of the man I had fallen for and wished that I had thought of a way to stall his departure, but it was too late now.

Thinking of our final goodbye, I didn’t want to have to worry about halitosis, so I disentangled myself from him and stood.

“What?” he asked.

I headed toward the bathroom. “I need a minute.”

He laughed and moved back to the living room.

I didn’t want to take forever, but one look in the mirror told me that I had to at least tame my hair, wash my face, and brush my teeth.

Normally, I took my time getting ready, but I could be fast when I needed to. I made quick work of my hair and face and was about to brush my teeth when my phone, which I’d shoved into my pocket, dinged.

I figured it would be a message from Logan, teasing me about taking so long, but it was from William.

Of course he was up this early.

I swiped the screen to life and started to read the words on the pictures he’d sent.

My Requirements for a Wife:

She can’t have an annoying laugh.

She can’t be blond.

She has to be confident enough that she isn’t constantly begging for compliments on what she’s wearing or the things she’s done. If she needs this kind of reassurance, she’s not the one.

She can’t be too good for potty humor.

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