Page 23 of Four Steps to the Perfect Fake Date

He gave her a look like he knew she was full of shit. “I mean how areyou, Daphne. You haven’t talked about Pete at all. Or how it feels to be back here.”

Even now, after all these months, her ex-fiancé’s name still made her shoulders stiffen.

“It’s been nearly two years, Dad. What’s there to talk about?”

“You didn’t even mention it when it happened. We wouldn’t have found out if Ellie hadn’t gone to stay with you.”

“It” being Pete deciding that he didn’t love her anymore. That she wasn’t exciting enough. That he’d never seen himself with a boring accountant like her for a wife.

“It was a breakup,” she said, pushing the last of her food around her plate. “It sucked, and I got over it. He’s seeing someone new now.”

She’d blocked him on social media after they’d parted ways, of course, but there had been moments of weakness in the months that had passed. She knew he had a girlfriend, and they’d moved in together recently. The girlfriend was beautiful. They’d been skydiving together.

“Hmm,” her dad replied.

“It’s like Grandma with the pot,” Daphne explained. “The pot’s gone now. It’s done. Like that relationship.”

“So you’re never going to date again?” He arched his brows. “Like your grandmother and her favorite hobby?”

“Of course I’ll date again. Just ... not right now. I need to focus on work.”

Besides, who would she date? Who would be interested in a dull woman with a dull job who never took any risks? Even the thought of going to talk to a contractor about her very reasonable questions made her nervous. What kind of man would stick around when she was utterly devoid of any kind of bravery?

“Your face is looking better,” her dad said, nodding to the black eyes.

“Yeah, putrid green and yellow are my colors. The touch of dark purple really brings out my eyes.”

He laughed and shook his head, then turned when Grandma Mabel ambled through the doorway. She slid into the seat next to Daphne’s and bumped her shoulder against her granddaughter’s.

“We’re famous, Daphne. Between your run-in with that Lane boy at the Winter Market, your sister’s heroics a year and a half ago, and my near miss with that maniac in the truck, we’ll never have to buy our own drinks again.”

The older woman’s words made Daphne’s throat tighten. She’d never been lumped in the same category as the rest of her family before.

Maybe there was a drop of bravery in her, after all.

The next morning, Daphne sat behind her desk and gathered all the relevant invoices she needed to talk to Jerry Barela about the work he’d done on the station’s unfinished construction work. She was reviewing her list of questions when her doorway darkened.

“Ready?” Flint asked. He wore his perfectly pressed uniform and a pair of very shiny black shoes. His dark hair was combed back from his forehead. He always looked immaculate, she noticed. She wondered why he kept himself buttoned up so tightly.

Today, there was a wicked sparkle in his eyes.

It was a challenge. And for once, Daphne didn’t feel the need to back down. She closed the manila folder over her gathered invoices and notes and slid it into her bag. “Lead the way, Sheriff.”

When they got to his truck, Daphne slid into the passenger seat and buckled herself in. She took a deep breath. “How are we going to approach this?” she asked as Flint turned the key in the ignition.

He glanced over. “We’ll just ask him some questions and see what he says.”

That was vague and utterly unhelpful. Daphne rolled her eyes. “You want to take the lead? I can go over the invoices with you now.”

The sheriff leaned a forearm on the steering wheel as he turned to look at her, his eyes narrowed. Firm lips pressed into a line, he tilted his head. “You’re more than capable, Cupcake.”

“Will you stop calling me that? I hated it in high school, and I hate it now.”

“That’s what makes it fun.” His lips curled as he put the truck in gear, and they headed toward the other side of town.

The truth was, Daphne didn’t hate the nickname as much as she had the first time he’d said it. Besides, he was giving her a vote of confidence. Most people would expect her to crumple and scurry back to her books. Flint didn’t seem to consider that an option.

It felt ... good, Daphne decided. It made her heart beat a little bit harder and her palms grow damp, but she liked that he believed in her. Not many people did, except with things like accounting and to-do lists. She took a deep breath and watched the buildings go by while she got used to the feeling of Flint’s confidence in her.

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