Page 8 of My Surprising Valentine

The word ‘pretend’ hit me like a bucket of cold water, snapping me out of whatever spell I’d fallen under. I stepped back, putting some much-needed distance between us. “Right,” I said, forcing a laugh that sounded hollow even to my own ears. “Pretend.”

Max opened his mouth as if to say something else, then seemed to think better of it. Instead, he lifted his glass in a toast. “To pretending to be in love.”

I clinked my glass against his, ignoring the way my hand trembled slightly. “To pretending.”

Chapter Four

Max sethis empty wine glass on the counter and glanced around the half-painted room. “I think I should help you finish painting.”

I stared at him in disbelief, taking in his perfectly tailored suit and polished appearance. “You? Help with painting? Dressed like that?”

“Why not?” He shrugged, and I tried not to notice how the movement made his shoulder muscles flex beneath his crisp white dress shirt.

“But you’re in a suit.” One that probably cost more than my entire wardrobe put together, I couldn’t help but think.

Max looked down at himself and then back at me, a mischievous glint in his eyes that made my stomach do a little flip. “Ten bucks says I don’t get a drop of paint on me.”

I raised an eyebrow, crossing my arms over my chest. “You’re serious, aren’t you? You’re legitimately going to paint in that?”

“Unless you want me to get naked,” he said with a teasing waggle of his eyebrows as he began rolling up his sleeves, revealing forearms dusted with golden hair.

After staring at them far longer than any friend should have, I shook my head and handed him a roller with one of those paint reservoirs attached, saying, “This should be interesting if nothing else.”

“So,” he began, glancing at me as he applied the first stroke to the wall, “we’ve finally gotourstory straight, but what’s the deal with your cousin? I’ve met her a few times, and she seems really intense.”

I sighed, leaning against the doorframe as I watched him work. There was something oddly intimate about having him here in my space, helping with such a mundane task. “This wedding is going to be a circus, honestly. Melody is the queen of over-the-top everything, and since this is her ‘special day,’ she’s pulling out all the stops. Black-tie, a five-course dinner, two photographers, a string quartet for the ceremony—the works.”

“Fancy,” Max whistled softly. “Guess I’ll need to buy a new tux.”

“You can borrow David’s,” I joked, knowing full well that Max would rather show up naked than wear something of my brother’s, especially since David had bought it over ten years ago and had kept it stored in mothballs ever since.

Max shot me a playful glare that made my heart skip. “I’m not wearinganythingyour brother’s worn, thank you very much.”

My brother wasn’t a slob, but he also wasn’t as fastidious about his appearance as he used to be. I hated to say anything because I could understand the reasons behind his lack of self-care, but with his health issues, he’d kind of let himself go. You could most often find him wearing sweatpants—and not the sexy gray kind, either—regardless of whether he was lounging around at home or out and about in the world.

“Fair enough,” I said, taking another sip of wine and watching as Max carefully painted along the edge of the wall, histechnique surprisingly good for someone who probably hadn’t painted since college—if ever. I knew for a fact when he bought his house a couple of years ago—a new construction monstrosity built to look like one of the antique federal-style homes that were common in our town—it had come fully furnished. “You’re actually not terrible at this.”

“I helped paint my sister’s nursery last year. Trust me; nothing tests your painting skills like a hormonal woman with a vision board.”

“I forgot about that,” I admitted.

“I am a man of many talents,” he said, flashing me a devastating smile over his shoulder.

“Such as?” I raised a dubious eyebrow his way.

I loved teasing this man.

Max turned to face me fully, the paint roller held in front of my face, and for a moment, I thought he might actually try to paint me. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” The way he said it, low and teasing, made heat rush to my cheeks.

I quickly looked away, focusing on the paint can as if its label held the secrets of the universe. “So anyway,” I said, desperate to change the subject. “About the wedding …”

“Right.” Max turned back to the wall, but I could hear the smile in his voice.

The silence that fell between us then was comfortable, but every now and then, I could feel his eyes on me, studying me in that way he had, like he could see right through my carefully constructed facade.

“Han,” he said, breaking into the silence, his voice soft. “I know we’ve got our fake dating story figured out, but I can’t help but feel like there’s something else bothering you about this wedding that you’re not saying.”

I hesitated, biting my lip as I considered how much to reveal. I hadn’t prepared myself to be this vulnerable with him, whichwas probably poor planning on my part since Max had a way of seeing me even when I didn’t want to be seen and asking the tough questions I didn’t necessarily have an answer to. “Is it that obvious?” I asked, dropping down to sit cross-legged on the floor.

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