Page 69 of Four Steps to the Perfect Fake Date

He wasgood.

And what did that mean for her—for them? She had no plans to stay on Fernley once the job ended, and the last thing she wanted to do was change her life plans for a man. The only reason she was here was to find a bit of steadiness before she could move on and chase her dreams properly.

But—what dreams? A gray cubicle in a sad office building? Wilted lettuce in a Tupperware at her desk? A man who settled for her because she was the safe option?

What had shereallylost these past two years, other than shackles holding her back?

And how would he react when he found out she’d lied about the vow renewal? How could she possibly explain the fact that she planned on stealing back an old, worthless pot? She was using him to prove something to herself—to her family—and the more time she spent with him, the worse it felt.

She could admit it to him now. They’d opened up to each other; it would be the perfect time.

But what if she told him about the family heirloom and he pulled away? She’d lose him and any chance of retrieving her grandmother’s Dutch oven. She might even lose her job if he took enough offense.

There was a slight chance he’d help restore the pot to Grandma Mabel. But was it worth the risk of losing it all?

“Talk to me,” he said, torso leaning toward her on the couch.

Daphne bit her lip. There wassomethingbetween them, but what if it was just the convenience of proximity, built on the shaky foundation of shared high school experience? Telling him about the pot would mean betting that this budding romance was real. It would mean trusting him to understand that it wasn’t an old cooking pot. It was a precious family heirloom that contained her grandmother’s childhood memories. It was Daphne’s one chance at proving that she wasn’t the boring, safe option that would inevitably be tossed aside when someone better came around. If she got her grandmother’s pot back, that would mean she truly belonged in her family. It would mean Pete had been wrong about her.

Could she take the risk of telling him and losing her chance? She’d been taking more risks lately, but betting on this tenuous connection with Calvin Flint seemed like more than a risk. It was reckless.

Besides, she still needed that out. If she wanted an excuse to leave the island once her project with the sheriff’s department was over, she couldn’t mess this up with Calvin. As she sat on his couch and sharedsecrets with him, though, it was hard to think about leaving the island at all.

Blinking, Daphne met his gaze. She couldn’t bear the thought of losing this thread of intimacy with him, even though she didn’t have the courage to tell him about her harebrained scheme. Instead, she gave him another piece of her. “I’m ashamed of myself for thinking so badly of you,” she finally replied.

His face softened, head leaning back against the cushions. His hand slid from her calf up to her knee, the warmth of it a brand through her denim. “Don’t be. Whatever you thought about me, I can promise you I thought worse. And I’m sorry I got you in trouble with Mrs. Matthews.”

Daphne snorted. “We’re going there, huh.”

His grin made it hard for Daphne to breathe. “I’ll go anywhere with you, Davis.”

It hit Daphne that she was in trouble. It was written all over the teasing smile on Calvin’s lips, paired with the tenderness in his gaze. She felt trouble lurking in her heated blood, pulsing in her wrists and neck and core. The longer she spent with this man, the harder it became to resist him.

Even when he brought up the main reason she’d cursed his name for nearly two decades.

Halfway through senior year, Calvin had copied from her during a math exam. It should have been an automatic failure for both of them, and Daphne had had to beg and plead to be allowed to retake the exam, since a failure would have cost her a lot more than a bad grade. Her scholarships—at the time, her whole future—depended on top academic performance.

After teasing her relentlessly all year, Flint hadn’t seemed remorseful in the slightest that he’d almost cost her everything. She’d hated him with a passion from then on.

As the memory resurfaced, a gust of breath left Daphne’s nose. What had seemed so important to seventeen-year-old Daphne nowseemed inconsequential. “I was so mad at you for so long. I cursed your name anytime I thought of you for years.”

Interest sparked in his gaze. “Are you saying,” he asked slowly, “that you kept thinking about me all this time?”

“Don’t sound so smug,” Daphne shot back, but her cheeks were flaming.

“I didn’t know I’d left such an impression.”

“I’ll never hear the end of this now.”

He laughed, his thumb stroking the inside of her knee. “‘Daphne Davis was obsessed with me for years,’” he mused. “Sounds pretty nice when I say it out loud.”

Clicking her tongue, Daphne reached over to pinch the underside of his arm. When he yelped and jerked back, she harrumphed. “‘Obsessed’ isn’t the right word, Flint. More like ‘extremely spiteful.’”

“Better than being forgotten.” His smile was broad and unrepentant.

“You’re the most annoying man I’ve ever met.”

He beamed at her like she’d just paid him the compliment of a lifetime. Daphne’s heart couldn’t take much more of this. She swallowed past a lump in her throat, wondering what they were doing. What this meant. Tearing her gaze away from him, she fiddled with a stray thread on the seam of the couch. It took a while to start breathing properly again.

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