Page 3 of Fake Dating My Valentine

When I rolled into Holiday Grove an hour ago, the absolute last thing I expected was to be ogled by my sister’s best friend. Torey’s blue gaze darkened as it raked over my body, wrapped in nothing but a towel. She licked her lips and continued her slow perusal, sucking in a sharp breath.

“Torey,” I growled to get her attention, but she was transfixed. That was the word—she was transfixed by my body. I couldn’t deny the pride that swelled at the way she looked at me. I worked hard to stay in shape; my job required it. But this level of appreciation had my body reacting. “Enjoying the show?” I asked with a hint of amusement to hide the instant attraction that shot through my veins.

If she stared any longer, I wouldn’t be able to keep my body’s reaction to her a secret. Dammit. And when the hell had Torey Jones gotten so beautiful? I’d only seen her in passing during the few trips I made home when I was on leave, but I never remembered her looking like this. A raven-haired bombshell with sapphire blue eyes and the kind of curves that made menstart wars. The pale blue sweater she wore hugged her D-cups perfectly, and even thinking about them made my cock stir.

“Torey!”

She startled and batted her long black lashes quickly before her gaze finally clashed with mine. “What? Oh yeah, I’m enjoying the show. A lot, actually.” She flashed a teasing smile and licked her full lips again. “Ryan, the Army does a body good, huh?” Her brows dipped into a concerned frown as she reached out to the spot where my newest scar was. “Mostly.”

I gripped her wrist a second before she touched the still pink scar.

“What happened?” The concern in her voice touched me in a way it shouldn’t have. Most women wanted to know the story behind the scar, but Torey was just worried about me.

“I’m fine,” I assured her, mostly because I wasn’t ready to talk about it. I wasn’t sure I would be fine emotionally, at least not for a long time.

“But—” she began and studied my face.

“I’m fine, Torey. I promise.” I used the same firm tone I used whenever I didn’t want to talk about shit.

She froze and yanked her hand from my light grasp. “Okay. Sure. Right.” She shook her head and took a step back. “Of course you’re fine. And even if you weren’t, it’s not my business. Sorry.” Her cheeks flushed. She was embarrassed. “I’m sorry about…encroaching. Welcome home, Ryan.” She waved and walked backwards until she disappeared into Nix’s room.

Left alone with my thoughts, I did what I always did—moved forward. I shook off the unfamiliar emotions and retreated to my childhood bedroom, untouched by time, and got dressed. Barely a minute passed before Torey's hurried footsteps echoed down the stairs, culminating in the soft, final click of the front door.

For the first time since I was put on medical leave—indefinite medical leave—I managed to find my smile. And it was all because of Torey Jones.

I laid down with a grunt and rubbed my thigh, which hurt like a son of a bitch most of the time. Two bullets, that was all it took to potentially ruin my career in the Army. The one in the abdomen throbbed dully, but it was mostly healed. The thigh, however, tore through some muscles and required PT before they would even consider letting me return to active duty. Uncle Sam wasn’t sure if I still had what it took to serve effectively, which was bad enough. Worse? My team was already on another mission. Without me.

I hated that more than anything, even my own pain.

But I couldn’t deny that it was good to be home. At least it would be. Eventually.

When I stopped hating that my career might be over already and I didn’t have a backup plan. I didn’t think I needed one. I was sure I’d be one of those crotchety old fuckers who would have to be yanked from the field screaming and shouting that I had one more mission to complete.

Now that looked like nothing more than a pipe dream.

I sat up, feeling a hit of determination surge through me. The same surge that got me through Basic Training and special ops and all the rest. I just had to take care of myself. Relentless exercise and physical therapy, and I would be as good as new. In a few months, I would be back in the thick of the action. Back with my brothers.

Maybe.

Hopefully.

Chapter 3

Torey

Inever felt exotic or anything special in my life. I was just plain ol’ reliable Torey, the one everyone knew they could count on. Except when I loaded up the bread order for Holiday Beef, the town’s best date night spot. The canvas bag made me feel like I should be wearing a beret and riding a bicycle, like some ingenue in a French film. I smiled as I walked down the street, feeling like someone else for those five short minutes.

“Torey dear, there you are.” Molly Dickson stopped right in front of me.

I flashed a smile I didn’t feel, readjusted the bag of bread in my hand, and nodded. “What’s up, Mrs. Dickson?”

She wore a satisfied smile, as if she knew she had me. “Do you remember me telling you about Lewis, my grandnephew? He’s an accountant and he’s coming for a long overdue visit. I think you two would get along well.” Her smile was wide and filled with expectation.

“That’s so nice of you, but really, Mrs. Dickson, it’s not necessary.”

“Nonsense,” she patted my shoulder. “I’ll set something up for you when he gets to town.”

“Don’t trouble yourself, just have fun with uh, Lewis.” I stepped around her and rushed into Holiday Beef. A harsh breath rushed out of me, but I didn’t stop until I was in the kitchen with the chef.

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