Page 63 of How to Prevent a Fumble

“Do you have a favorite here?” she asks, her voice unnaturally small.

The second I think that we have a breakthrough, Briar always takes two steps back. I get it. You have someone as terrible as her shitty ex in your life, you start to question every man.

And I also know I haven’t been the most upstanding man in the world, too, and I’m not sure how much of her view of me comes from Owen being rightfully pissed at me for what I put him and my sister through.

And as much as I hate being told what to do, as much as I hate that we were put in this situation where we have to fake a relationship to get the media off my ass, I really do want to be better.

There’s something about Briar Crosby that just makes you want to be a better man, and I’m not sure what.

It could be her softness while also commanding respectand attention. Briar knows her worth—most of the time—and demands you know it too. Or maybe it’s her intellect.

I can’t deny that with each passing day, I find myself wanting her attention more and more.

And not in the way that I have other people’s attention. Being the funniest guy in the room only gets you so far. Sure, it gets me validation. It gets me friends. Acting like a complete idiot is my specialty, but that’s not what I want to do around her.

I want her to know I’m smart enough for her attention. That I’m kind enough. That I understand her to an extent, and that I’m a good person.

And I don’t think I’ve ever wanted something like that so badly.

“I usually get the steak,” I tell her, picking up my whisky and giving it a little stir before bringing the glass to my lips. The alcohol burns on my tongue, and when Briar’s beautiful brown eyes meet mine, I can’t help but think how it would taste on her lips.

Stop it, Warner,I tell myself, licking my lip.

“That makes sense,” she says quickly before looking back down at the menu.

“Do you not like steak?” I ask.

She shakes her head. “No, I love steak. Just should have known better. It makes sense you like it.”

I’m not sure what that means, but alright.

When the waiter comes, we put in our orders and hand our menus over. I watch as Briar smiles at the man before her face falls, and she settles back into her seat, looking around.

“You know, if we’re going to trick people you need to look like you actually like me and I’m not just holding you here against your will,” I tell her with a chuckle, taking another small sip of my drink.

She sighs, and when she looks up to fully meet my eyes,her hair sweeps past her chest. A small movement I can’t bring myself to ignore.

Briar Crosby is gorgeous, and it kills me that she thought, even for a second while she was in that fitting room, that she wasn’t.

I could see it in her eyes. The way this usually intense, strong woman shrunk when she realized I was looking at her. The way she thought my comments were anything other than positive.

She’s always been a beautiful woman. From the very first time I met her, I knew that it was going to be nearly impossible for me to ignore my attraction to her.

I always found myself interested, but respected Owen enough to never go after her. And so I didn’t. Over time my curiosity never faded, but I forced the attraction deep down within me until I saw her as just Briar.

But Briar should never be thought of asjustanything.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers. “This is just new to me and I haven’t been on a date since…” her words fade as she studies her hands sitting on top of the table. Her nails are a light baby blue, but they’re chipped a little.

I’ll have to remember to schedule an appointment for her to get them done. Maybe even a whole spa day. She deserves some time to relax.

“Since the divorce,” I finish for her, squirming in my chair.

I hate thinking about that douche.

She nods.

“Not a single one?” I ask, and when I see her face I realize that my words aren’t helpful in any way. “Sorry. I just expected you would have.”

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