Page 32 of The Fiance Dilemma

“No,” I croaked.“Why?”

“One, because you ignored my request, left your socials public, and now there’s nothing to do about that except act normal,” she answered, and my cheeks flushed. “The fact that Blondie doesn’t have any is a blessing in disguise.” Her gaze sharpened on Matthew. “Unless you tell me there’s a burner account with boy shit. And if that’s going to come up, it better come up now.”

“What is ‘boy shit,’ exactly?” he asked nonchalantly.

Bobbi’s jaw clenched in a way that had me intervening before she could speak. “How is a boudoir picture going to fix that? Not that I’m not open to that kind of thing. But maybe for something else.” I felt Matthew’s gaze on my profile. “Not for this.” Not with Matthew. Not if it’s all insincere. Not if—

“Breasts have the power to fix almost every issue,” Bobbi countered, bringing my thoughts to a stop. “I don’t make the rules. If I did, we wouldn’t be here, on this farm, breathing in the scent of manure, trying to show two random prattlers with a podcast that you’re actually in love with this man.”

Ouch.Nick and Sam had pointed out that I had no pictures of Matthew anywhere, and while that was a good point, it was also dangerous enough for me not to resist Bobbi’s impromptu photoshoot. “I don’t even post that much. That’s why I haven’t shared pictures of us. And—”

“You’re a private couple. The hackers. Yeah, whatever.” Bobbi shook her head. “At least, thanks to that, the focus seems to be shifting away from Andrew being… rich and selfish. As if those were bad things to be. Either way, that wholeUnderwood Affairthing needs to be contained. Andrew is concerned.” I stiffened at the mention. “He doesn’t—”

Matthew interjected. “How about you just tell us where you want us? You don’t need to brief us on Andrew’s feelings, yeah?”

Her hands braced on her hips. “The fence. Stand by the fence.And look like you’re in love this time around. It can’t bethathard.” She met my gaze. “You’ve done it a few times, yes?”

I smiled at her, giving her my best accommodating face before walking toward the fence. But I kept thinking about that comment she’d made about Andrew. Matthew was right, I didn’t need to be briefed. The idea of being informed about how concerned my father was made me want to crawl out of my skin. Even when a part of me wondered why he hadn’t gotten in touch. Directly, not through Bobbi. Was it because I’d ignored his latest attempts? That seemed a logical explanation. I’d be irked, too.

Before I could really notice how, I was turning around and Matthew was there, right in front of me. His lips parted, but whatever he was going to say was silenced by Bobbi’s annoyingly amplified voice.

“WILL YOU CONSIDER WEARING A COWBOY HAT?”

“Christ,” I murmured. “Not the bullhorn again.”

Matthew’s head turned slightly over his shoulder. “No.”

I leaned my back on one of the posts, arms crossed a little awkwardly over my chest. “I hate to side with Bobbi, but you might break a few hearts by not wearing one.”

“I’m from Boston,” he countered, stepping closer. The tips of his boots—Chelsea boots, not cowboy ones—brushed the tips of mine. “And how would I break any hearts?”

I thought of how half of Green Oak was still convinced I was engaged to Tennessee’s Maverick. “Just a hunch.”

There was a glint of interest in Matthew’s eyes, as if he wanted to ask more. But once again, Bobbi’s voice was filling the Vasquezes’ property. “LESS CHATTING. MORE TOUCHING.”

“I swear I’m going to—”

Matthew’s hands braced on the wooden rails, his arms suddenly caging me in. “You’re going to do what?”

I cleared my throat, telling my brain to chill. Telling the pounding in my chest to calm the heck down too. These were just arms.And Matthew was just… a man. Blond. Tall. A little more built than I’d expected. But still a man. Only now, it seemed very important to find out whether he worked out regularly. Or what he did as a workout. Strength of some kind. Weights? Pull-ups? The image of him lifting himself up to a bar—I stopped myself. This wasn’t helping. It was also terribly inappropriate. I wanted to keep this as practical as possible.

“SUN IS SETTING,” Bobbi warned. “TICK TOCK.”

That wasn’t helping either.

I blew some air out my nose. “I’m going to have very vivid dreams of me and that bullhorn in one of those rage rooms where you can smash stuff with a bat.”

The corners of Matthew’s lips tipped up. “Mmh, do I get to be there too?”

“In the smash room? Of course.”

Matthew leaned forward, his head coming to the side of mine. I went very, very still. His breath tickled my ear. “Anywhere in those very vivid dreams you’re telling me about.”

Somewhere in my head a bell went off. But both my brain and nervous system were busy, all of me tingling with… awareness. The closeness of him. The waves of body heat his arms and chest gave off, feeling like a blanket over me. The brush of his chin on my cheek. “Matthew?”I whispered. “Are you flirting with me?”

The chuckle that rumbled out of the man’s throat was brief and deep and extremely inconvenient. I was genuinely trying to figure out if he was. “Yes,” he answered. Simply.

“Why?”

---