Page 98 of Fake Dating My Best Friend

“And you, dear?” Mayor Parker turns to me. “What made you finally see what was right in front of you?”

“I, um . . .” I swallow hard. “It’s the way he cares for everyone. Like Mrs. Johnson’s arthritis, or how he modified all those exercises for Mr. Peterson after his surgery, and . . .” I pause. “And his . . . strength!”

Asher lifts an eyebrow.

“I mean—inner strength! Yes. That. But also, he is objectively strong. Not that I think about that a lot—”

I clamp my mouth shut, heat flooding my face. Asher’s lips twitch like he’s fighting back a grin.

“Oh! This is perfect for the town website!” Mayor Parker whips out her phone faster than a matchmaker spotting true love. “We need a photo for the ‘Couples of Frosthaven’ feature. You know, to promote local romance!”

Mayor Parker loves romance. Correction: Frosthaven loves romance.

This is a town that treats love stories like breaking news. There’s literally a weekly feature on the “Sweethearts of Frosthaven” complete with interviews, dramatic retellings, and (probably) an unnecessary amount of heart-shaped clip art.

“Asher, dear, could you—oh!” Mayor Parker beams as Asher’s already-present arm tightens around my waist. “Perfect! Now just a little—”

Asher shifts, turning me slightly toward him. The movement brings us chest-to-chest, and suddenly, breathing becomes an optional activity. His cologne, something woodsy and warm, wraps around me like it’s trying to seduce me into bad decisions.

I’m trying really hard not to bury my face in his chest right now.

“Closer!” Mayor Parker instructs, her antennae bobbing frantically. “This is for love!”

“Is this okay?” Asher murmurs, his breath warm against my ear as he tugs me closer. According to our hastily established fake-dating rules, this definitely falls under acceptable public displays of affection. Though I’m pretty sure my racing heart isn’t part of the protocol.

“Perfect! Now kiss her! Just a sweet one for the camera!”

My entire body freezes. Kiss? Kiss on the lips? We didn’t cover kissing in our hasty rule discussion.

Asher leans in, one hand sliding up to cup my face. He’s not smirking this time. It’s a soft, gentle smile, the kind that makes my heart squeeze.

Do I tilt right? Left? Is there some kind of best-friend-kissing rulebook I missed?

But Asher’s lips don’t go where I expect. Instead, they brush my temple, soft and warm and somehow better than anything I’d imagined.

“Breathe, Peachie,” he whispers against my skin.

“Perfect! Just perfect!” Mayor Parker beams at her phone screen. “These are going straight to the website. You two are naturals!”

My cheeks are burning hotter than Elaine’s Fresh n’ Fluffy’s ovens in the morning rush. I spot an alcove near the refreshment table, partially hidden by one of Betty’s over-enthusiastic heart-shaped balloon arrangements. Perfect for a minor breakdown.

“Come on,” I mutter, tugging Asher’s hand. Several heads turn our way—probably assuming we’re sneaking off for a romantic moment. Which we’re not.

Mrs. Henderson winks at us as we pass, nudging her friend with a knowing look. Great. That’ll be all over her knitting circle by tomorrow morning.

Once we’re semi-hidden by the balloons and a towering display of cupcakes (courtesy of Elaine’s baking), I turn to face him. “You’re getting a little too serious at this boyfriend act, Collymore.”

His eyes sparkle with mischief in the soft glow of the fairy lights strung above us. “Who says I’m acting?”

“Please. Is this how you normally date? Smooth moves and perfect photo ops?”

“Depends.” His hand slides up my back, slowly, stopping just beneath my hairline. The warmth of his touch makes it impossible to focus. “Is it working?”

“That’s not an answer.” I manage to sound almost normal, despite the fact that my nerve endings are doing the cha-cha wherever he touches me.

I mean, purely from a best friend’s perspective, I should know these things, right? Like how he treats his dates, what makes him boyfriend material. You know, for . . . research. Future matchmaking purposes.

“What would you do if this was real?” I ask.

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