Page 19 of Rockstar's Fake Engagement

Nate’s lips curve at that. “So I’ve heard.”

“Which means we probably need to be able to, I don’t know…” I tilt my head. “Flirt convincingly?”

He huffs a laugh, shaking his head. “You think we’re bad at it?”

I raise a brow. “I think you’re bad at it.”

That gets a full chuckle out of him, deep and low and unfairly sexy.

And then—before I can process it—he leans in, just a fraction, his voice dropping as he says, “You sure about that, sweetheart?”

My breath hitches. The way he says sweetheart—isn’t for the cameras. It isn’t for a headline or a staged moment for the press. It’s just for me. A slow, deliberate tease. A dare.

The air between us is suddenly too thick, the world too quiet. I hold his gaze. Letting the heat linger, letting the moment stretch. Finally, Nate lets out a slow breath, shaking his head like he’s amused. “Go to bed, Lacey.”

I grin, taking a slow step backward. “I think I just won that round.”

His smirk is pure mischief. “We’ll see.”

I turn, my heart still hammering as I retreat down the hall.

And long after I slide into bed, long after I close my eyes and listen to the waves. I remember the intense blue of his eyes, how they felt almost familiar. That’s when it hits me—I remember a flash of blue, an intense gaze. Familiar. Haunting. That was Nate I glimpsed that night at the Atlanta hotel. I shiver at the memory.

That was then, and this is now, but I can still feel his gaze—still feel the tension crackling in the air.

And l wonder if I just started a game, I might not be ready to finish.

Seven

Nate

The morning air is cool but already warming as the sun stretches over the horizon. The waves roll in steadily and surely, the golden light catching on the surface, making everything look like it’s glowing. I breathe it in—the salt, the quiet, the peace.

At least, it’s peaceful until—

“Come on, drummer boy. Keep up.”

Lacey grins over her shoulder as she picks up speed, her ponytail swaying with each stride. She’s wearing some sort of thin leotard that hugs every curve in a way that should be illegal on a public beach. Each step makes my mouth go dry, and I have to force myself to look at the horizon instead of how the fabric clings to her sweet ass. The tide laps at her feet, her laughter carried bythe ocean breeze, and something hot and dangerous coils in my stomach.

I huff out a breath, lengthening my stride to catch up, even though I was enjoying the view. “I thought this was supposed to be a casual run.”

She smirks. “Where’s the fun in that?”

I shake my head but match her pace. The sand is firm beneath my feet, the cool morning air balancing out the heat starting to build. I don’t usually run with anyone, but with Lacey, it’s easy.

We fall into a rhythm, neither of us speaking, just the sound of the waves and our steady breathing filling the space between us. She’s fast, but I’m taller, and eventually, I pull ahead.

Lacey groans. “Not fair. Your legs are longer.”

Now it’s my turn to smirk. “Excuses, excuses.”

She huffs, picking up speed, pushing herself to close the distance. I don’t let her win, but I do slow just enough that when we finally stop, panting and catching our breath, we’re side by side.

She bends over, hands on her knees. “Okay, maybe I should’ve started with stretching.”

I chuckle, rolling my shoulders. “You good?”

She straightens a flush on her cheeks—not just from the run. “More than good. I love mornings like this. It’s the one time everything feels… fresh.”

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