Page 38 of The Fiance Dilemma

When he brought both our arms down, I felt so warm—sandwiched between the animal in my arms and the man at my back—and so dazed—by how nice, how natural, how confusing—the last minute had felt, that I didn’t even know if I’d smiled at all.

“I think those will do,” Matthew murmured, his voice deep and almost startling in a way I didn’t even mind.

I took the opportunity to elegantly slip out and return to a spot on the grass. At a safe distance. I tapped on my gallery and studied the results.

Hot freaking damn.

We looked… so hot. So absolutely real, too, with Matthew’s eyes peeking down at me, and the corners of my lips parting my flushed cheeks. There were also a couple of shots of him looking up at the camera while my gaze stayed cast down on Pedro. And one where he was openly checking me out.

My cleavage.

I pursed my lips to hide my delight. I had been very serious about splurging on athleisure, this was the least he could do.

“Bobbi would be proud,” I told him. As casually as I could. “You really seem to know what you’re doing, too. With the selfies. Should Bobbi be worried a Hinge account is going to pop up?”Should I?

A strange chuckle left him as he placed Pedro back on the grass and patted his jeans with his hands. “I’ve never been a big fan of dating apps. I’m a little too blunt for them.” He braced his arms on his knees and met my gaze. “I managed socials at work. Just for awhile. It’s a savage world that makes you learn fast. I picked up a few tricks from the guy they brought in, though. And it was from watching him take the selfies, definitely not me.”

I wanted to ask him so many different things about that that I didn’t even know where to start. What exactly had he been doing? What was his plan now that he was unemployed? How long had he managed socials? I’d been sure he’d been doing something else. Something that had to do with writing. Was he applying to anything now? And if so, where?

But how did any of that concern me? How much prodding could I do without intruding or him closing off? Could I help him in any way? Make up for everything else? And why had he shut down the two times I asked?

“I could pay you, you know?” I blurted out.

Matthew frowned.

“For this,” I said. “For what we’re doing.”

He seemed as surprised by the offer as I was appalled by my poor delivery. A strange laugh left him. “What are we doing exactly?”

I shot him a bland look.

“Why would you want to pay me?” he asked, sobering. “What happened toit’s you I need to do this. Be my fiancé. Oh Matthew, please.”

My cheeks warmed. I knew what he was doing, as serious as he looked or sounded. “I never saidOh Matthew, pleaselike that.” I swallowed, and the quality of his gaze changed. “And I’m offering because you deserve to get something out of it. I didn’t think of that when I asked you for help, but it’s the least I can do. You should get something in exchange. I’m asking a lot of you. Having your picture on the internet. Your time and energy. That must have a cost.”

“You’re making me feel like an escort, sweetheart,” he told me, but his tone wasn’t harsh, or hurt. His words seemed resigned more than anything. “I can freelance until I find something else. Fromhere. That was the plan, anyway.” His jaw clenched for an instant. “It’s sweet of you to offer compensation for the hardship of touching you, kissing your cheek, or pretending I have the right to pull you on my lap just because I want to. All of which I agreed to do, by the way.”

“Okay,” I said with a nod. “That’s fair. I just wanted to make sure you didn’t think I was taking advantage of you.”

“You aren’t, Josie.”

“Do you… want help with the job hunt?”

“It’s all right.”

“I could really help.”

His only response was a small smile. A bitter one. Or a sad one. I wasn’t sure. I was scared to push him for more and of him saying something I didn’t want to hear. Like how he might have already found something and already had a departure date. Or how I couldn’t be taking advantage of him when it was me who needed his help.

“We should talk about the terms, then,” I told him, lowering my voice. “The plan. The rules of engagement. We never did with how… fast everything unraveled, and I think we should.”

“What about them?”

The brown in his eyes flared, so I averted my gaze. My eyes fell on one of my hands as they rested on my thighs. “We’re not getting married,” I said. The ring caught the light of the sun, making it impossible for me not to look at it while I spoke. “I just want to appease whatever fear you might have. There won’t be a wedding on December first. That date just serves whatever narrative Bobbi wants to create. We’re more than a month away, and a professional is handling things. Gossip is fickle. That stuff dies out quickly. People can’t possibly be invested in someone like me for long.”

“Why not?”

I glanced back at him. “Because there are more important or scandalous things in the world than some small-town girl who happens to share DNA with a powerful man, and who never gathered the courage to say I do.”

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