Page 12 of My Lumberjack Valentine

“They were the exception,” I say. “Not the rule.”

“Still, you have to admit true love exists.” Rosalie tilts her chin, looking triumphant. “Your grandparents are the proof.”

“I guess in very rare cases, true lovemightexist. Emphasis on the word might.”

“Better than nothing,” Rosalie says brightly. “I’ll make a believer out of you yet. At this rate, you’ll be a hopeless romantic by Valentine’s Day.”

I can’t resist smiling at the satisfaction on her face. She’s so damn cute. There’s a smudge of strawberry sauce on her cheek, and I reach out to brush it away, my fingers burning when I touch her soft skin. Our eyes meet, my heart thumping as I say, “You had a little something…”

She nods, blinking at me. “Thanks.”

My gaze flickers to her lips, pink and plump, and I feel my cock twitch beneath my jeans.

Fuck, I want to kiss her so badly.

It’s so easy to feel like this is real—like Rosalie is really my girlfriend, here to spend the night at my cabin. Hell, taking this curvy beauty to bed with me is all I want right now. I want to kiss her, taste her, feel those thick curves. It’s torture to be this close without touching her, and my desires are getting harder to ignore with every passing second.

It’s not real, you idiot.

None of this is real.

She doesn’t want you; she just wants to save her store.

That’s all this is. Get a fucking grip.

I force myself to clear the plates, breaking eye contact with Rosalie and disappearing into the kitchen, where I take a few deep breaths and splash some cold water on my face. Once I’m calmer, I head back into the living room, trying not to look at Rosalie. After a few minutes of strained silence, she suggests we put on a movie, and I do as she asks, keeping to my half of the couch.

The movie is a rom-com, and I don’t take in a single thing that happens. I spend the whole time thinking about thebeautiful girl sitting next to me, forcing myself not to stare at her, keeping my leg from brushing against hers. I need to remind myself of what’s real. We only need to pretend when Grandpa is here to see us. In the meantime, I need to remember what we really are: not a couple, just two strangers pretending to date for their own reasons.

When the movie finally ends, I show Rosalie to the guest bedroom.

“This is perfect,” she says as she looks around the cozy room, with its fresh sheets and warm fireplace. “Thanks, Boone.”

“Don’t mention it.”

We say our goodnights and I shut myself in my room. Once I’m in bed, I run a hand over my face with a groan, thinking about Rosalie—her soft curves, the pretty lines of her face, her big brown eyes. Knowing she’s so close to me sets my skin on fire, my cock aching with need as I stare at the ceiling, waiting for sleep. It won’t come. My mind is racing, running over every moment of my evening with Rosalie. Every smile, every laugh. And as I picture her face lighting up, her eyes sparkling, I can’t help wishing I could believe in happy endings after all.

7

ROSALIE

Booneand I quickly settle into a routine. Each morning, he heads into the forest to chop wood while I drive to Peak Sweets and open up as usual. When I get back in the early evening, Boone has a delicious dinner waiting for me, followed up with dessert and a movie. It’s intimate and familiar, and I think Lloyd is starting to believe it. He’s been coming over most nights, dropping by with various pretexts and excuses to see if our relationship is as committed as we say. With every visit, he seems more convinced, and my optimism is growing by the day.

I think we could really pull this off.

I’m so confident that I even told Melissa I was trying to scrape up enough money to buy the building, and she agreed to hold off on accepting the offer from Candy Corner. As long as Lloyd accepts our relationship within the next couple of weeks, Peak Sweets will be saved and all my problems will be solved.

So why do I feel more confused than ever?

Living with Boone is making it harder to remember what’s real and what’s not. As we spend more time together, I’m losing focus, forgetting that this charade is all just a means to an end. When we’re sitting on the couch together, watching a movie and sharing a bowl of candy, it’s easy to feel like we’re a real couple. IfLloyd is around, Boone makes a show of putting his arm around me or holding my hand, and I melt against him like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

In those moments, it feels so real.

But sometimes, Boone acts differently toward me. He pulls away, avoiding my gaze like he doesn’t even dare to look at me. His shifting moods are only adding to my confusion, and it’s hard not to take it personally when he draws into himself and puts walls up between us. He’s right to keep his distance—I’m the one who’s acting like an idiot by forgetting this is all fake.

But God, he’s so hot.

Why does he have to be so hot?

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