Page 7 of Fake Dating My Best Friend

My hands rub slow circles on her back, trying really hard not to focus on how perfectly she fits in my arms.

“You did nothing wrong.”

Except for having a terrible taste in men. Present company excluded.

I swallow hard, resisting the urge to say it out loud.

“I supported his business when no one thought he’d make it. Used my own hard-earned savings to help him. The only time I said no is when he wanted me to blast his marketing services to all my clients.” She throws her hands up. “My clients trust me with their personal information. I can’t just hand that over for his sales leads. Am I wrong?”

“No, you aren’t wrong.” My jaw tightens.

I hold her closer, breathing through the wave of protectiveness boiling in my chest.

Isla pulls back slightly, her teary eyes locking on mine. “I thought I did everything right. I really thought this time would be different. But everyone leaves me,eventually. I guess I’m really the problem in all my failed relationships.”

A sharp ache spreads through my chest. If only she knew how wrong she is, how she already owns my heart without having to try.

I cup her face in my hands, forcing her to look at me. “You’re not the problem, Peachie. The problem is these guys can’t handle how amazing you are.”

She lets out a watery laugh. “Amazing, huh? That’s not what Kyle thought.”

I grit my teeth so hard it’s a miracle I don’t crack a molar. “Kyle doesn’t think. Period.”

That earns me another laugh, a real one this time. Can Kyle make her laugh like this?

“So . . . what’s my type then?”

I pause, wanting to sayme, obviously. “Someone who sees how incredible you are and doesn’t make you question it.”

It’s vague enough to keep me out of trouble, but true enough that I mean every word.

“So,” I say, gently easing away from her and nudging the vacuum with my foot, “what do you say we put my cleaning skills to the test?”

I flip the switch, and the vacuum hums to life. “Bet I can vacuum circles around you.”

Isla arches a brow, the corner of her mouth twitching. “Is that a challenge, Collybear?”

I grin at the childhood nickname. She’d coined it after watching me meticulously build a snow fortlike a bear making the perfect den,combining “Collymore” with “bear” in her ten-year-old logic.

“Only if you’re not scared of losing.”

She narrows her eyes at me, then cracks her knuckles. “Oh, it’s on.”

As we dive into a very unnecessary cleaning competition, laughter spills into the room. I know the pain isn’t gone, not even close. But right now, she’s smiling again. And that’s enough.

I follow Isla to her bedroom, grabbing a few stray items along the way—until something on her nightstand catches my eye.

A very pink paperback featuring a fireman holding a puppy with the titleBurn for You, written in bold, fiery letters.

Before I can comment, Isla lunges across the room and snatches it off the nightstand like it’s classified information.

“That’s just . . . a book club pick.” Her cheeks turn the color of the cover.

I bite back a grin. We trade book recs and movie takes all the time, but she never brings up the ones that make her giggle and blush.

She doesn’t know I’ve seen a few of those tucked between cookbooks on her shelf. Or that I caught her reading one while giving an impressively dramatic performance about finding the perfect snickerdoodle recipe.

She definitely doesn’t know I’ve read them all.

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