Page 24 of Fake Dating My Best Friend

Every nerve in my scalp sits up like it’s just been personally greeted. It’s not the first time he’s touched my hair. When we were younger, he used to braid my hair on long car rides or when I couldn’t be bothered to do it myself. Sometimes he’d brush it, too. He said he heard his aunt claim it made hair smoother if you did it often. He always took it weirdly seriously, like it was a mission.

But right now, it feelsdifferent.

“What are these key traits I’m missing?” I ask.

“Oh, I don’t know.” His tone dips lower. “Maybe someone passionate, a little clumsy, but always means well.”

What is that supposed to mean?

“You’re making this harder than it needs to be, Collymore.”

“Maybe I’m not as easy to match as you think.”

Asher’s lips curl into a slow smile that does absolutely nothing to help my indigestion. His hand slips from my hair.

My fingers twitch. They’re half a second from reaching up to keep him there.

“You want me to keep going?” He raises an eyebrow.

“That will be—I mean—nope. I’m good.”

Oh boy. Why is it suddenly so warm in here? I fan myself with my notebook, hoping he doesn’t notice my flushed cheeks. It’s really not professional to get like this in front of my potential client.

“You okay there? You look a little flustered.” He reaches for the pack of peach rings on the table. “Do you need some?”

“I’m fine! Just, uh, thinking deeply about your perfect match. Very professional thoughts happening here.”

“Thanks for the offer, Isla, but I think I’ll pass. I’d do just about anything for you, just not this one.”

My smile falters, and my stomach drops. “What? But . . . why not?”

Asher runs a hand through his damp hair. “It’s not that I don’t trust your skills.”

“Then what is it?” I ask, my voice small. Does he think I’m bad at matchmaking, too?

“It’s not about trust. It’s about knowing what I want andwhoI want.”

I blink. My brain’s in a full-blown traffic jam. Thoughts swerving, honking, trying to merge into the same lane at once.

Because Asher is impossible to read tonight.

“Right, of course.” I wave my hand. “Mr. Picky strikes again.”

He catches my hand mid-air, closing around mine before I can pull away.

“You think you know me so well.” His thumb settles low in my palm and holds there. “It’s time you realized you don’t.”

Chapter 6

Asher

“Ifit’saboutIsla,you’ve come to the right place!”

Elaine calls out when she spots me as I step into the bakery, her grin wide enough to rival the Cheshire Cat. Roxanne sets aside her book, one brow arching as she spots me from her perch at the corner table.

The scent of fresh pastries and coffee wafts through the air in Fresh n’ Fluffy, Elaine’s family bakery. My stomach’s in knots.

“What gave me away?” I mutter, approaching the counter.

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