Page 28 of The Cowboy's Second Chance Bride

“Puh-lease. You really are under the illusion that I am the girl you used to know.” I took a step back.

If he saw the email, he would one hundred percent blame himself and loudly proclaim,I told you so.

He clenched and unclenched his fist, and I knew he was about to leap. His tells were still the same. He would clench his fist as he made his plan, then unclench when he had it figured out. He was going to come over the couch like a field-and-track runner in the hurdles. And he would be able to clear it easily. We’d done this tango before.

“How long do you think we need to pretend, Paul? I say ‘pretend’ because we wouldn’t really be dating.” I wanted Cal distracted by Paul’s proposition.

“Just a few weeks—like eight to twelve—and then you guys can break up and go your separate ways,” Paul said.

“That’s two to three months. Saying it in terms of weeks does not make it feel less like an eternity. Have you not seen us? We can’t be together more than a few hours.” I did the math in my head. Twenty-five K for two weeks of work, times six, would be one hundred fifty thousand dollars. If we pretended for two months, the amount went down by fifty K.

Sweet Jesus. My heart skipped a beat.

Goal achieved. Next level unlocked. I couldn’t even wrap my mind around it, the prospect was so unreal.

Cal and I swayed, moving from side to side, mirroring each other. “What do you say about that, Cal? You and I pretend to be dating again?” I asked.

Cal launched, but I saw it coming when he had no response to my use of the word again. He took two long steps, then pushed off the edge of the couch to go over.

In any relationship, it seemed there was always one person more in love than the other. I’d been the more-in-love one, and I had devoured all-things-Cal like an addict does a drug. I knew how to anticipate him more than he did me. As he came over, I ducked down and went under. He literally leaped over me.

I burst out laughing. “You’re a jackass,” I said, skirting the couch. “Look at how you’re behaving.”

I was halfway back to my chair when a long arm snaked out and jerked the purse from my hands. I gave a scream of protest. Cal’s other hand grabbed me by the elbow and dragged me toward him. He tossed my purse to the ground as he wrapped one arm around my waist and pulled me up against him. His body was a hard wall.

“I know whatever it is you’re hiding has to do with this whole situation. And I’m sorry to do this, Reenie, but I need to say I told you so.” And he plunged a hand down the front of my shirt and slipped out my phone from between my breasts.

ChapterEleven

CAL

She was like a bad recording on repeat. “You don’t know me; I’m not the same, blah blah blah.”

Yeah, some things about her were different. Some things weren’t. Hiding things in her bra had been her standard go-to in college. And by the way she clung to the purse, holding it in front of her chest, I knew she’d tucked her phone down her shirt.

I had one arm around her and the other down her shirt. Her hair was in my face and smelled like peppermint. She fit next to me perfectly. My chin was at her temple. The feel of her took me to a place I long thought had shriveled up and blown away. But as my knuckles brushed the smooth skin of her breast, my fingers scraping the lace of her bra, I was catapulted back in time to a place where I could drink from her sweetness because I had an open invitation.

Now, she was probably going to stomp on my other foot. As she should.

I have no right to touch her.

God help me, I wanted to touch her more. To run my thumb across her bottom lip. To taste the coffee she’d had earlier. To lose my hands in her hair as I tasted her skin.

I had to get away from her. If she knew what she still did to me, she could break me in two. And I would deserve it.

As I slipped out the phone, I spun her away and held the phone high, out of her reach.

“I got some great pictures of that,” Paul said.

“What?” Sabrina and I asked simultaneously, our attention swiveling to him.

Paul pointed a finger and moved it back and forth from me to Sabrina. “Whatever that was, I caught it in pictures, and it looks good. Sabrina, you have an Instagram account, right? You should post this.” He turned the phone so we both could see it.

I leaned forward as did Sabrina. Dammit if we didn’t look good together. The image showed what could be interpreted as her leaning into me with one of my arms around her waist and the other across her front, as if I were pulling her in to kiss her from behind on the temple. Her hands were on the arm over her chest, and the camera caught her laughter. No sound was needed. The image looked romantic as fuck.

“We do a handful of these pictures paired with showing what dates the app suggested you two try, and I think we come out ahead on several fronts,” Paul continued. “The app gets tested, we improve your image, and I think this will work sufficiently to distract your dad, so we can make some counterattacks. Hitchens won’t have anything this great either. Come on. You both know I’m right.”

Sabrina straightened first and pointed to her phone. “A client I signed canceled. They had a change of heart. Yesterday they were gung ho, and today not so much. Cold feet.”

---