Page 27 of Fighting

“What makes it necessary?” I push back.

She ignores me. “Four: What’s the story with your sister?”

“What do you mean?” Lips pressed together, I study her, hoping her expression will help explain the question.

“In most romance books, when a person is in a relationship with their best friend’s sibling, they keep the friend in the dark until the friendship suffers. I don’t want that to happen.”

I frown, confused. “This isn’t a book.”

“Right. Also, those aren’t fake dating situations. In those scenarios, everyone knows about the relationship. That’s the point. To get the antagonist—in this case Caleb—off the back of the person faking it—me,” Nessa says, her pen tapping noisily on the page.

“This is way too complicated to be a book,” I tease her.

Her face twitches, betraying a tiny smirk. “Never read an eight-character why choose before, I see.” The wicked expression falls quick, along with her voice. “Since Caleb, I don’t date. Been pretty clear on the fact that I don’t plan to, either. Everyone is going to have questions that I do not want to answer.”

“Why?”

Breezing past my question, she continues. “They aren’t going to believe that somehow, months after I randomly hook up with you—someone I’ve actively avoided since high school—I’ve changed my stance on dating… so I guess rule number four is that if one of us adds to the story, we go along with it?”

“Oh. My. God. Nessa, you want me to ‘yes, and’ you?” I grin and clap my hands once before returning them to the wheel.

“Oh no. Are you telling me you are an improv comic?” She shudders.

“Don’t judge. Think about the movies and TV shows I love—the actors are all graduates of a few elite improv schools. I tried to take classes in New York, but my work schedule got in the way. Still, I was an audience member every chance I had.”

She hums, one brow cocked, but doesn’t say anything.

An unfamiliar wave of nervousness runs through me. “What?”

“Just trying to fit this new, extremely uncool information into the picture I have of cool, playboy Mateo,” she teases.

“Uncool? Please. First, it was cool, and second, it was mad fun.” I scoff. “Fun? That gets me thinking. Rule number five: Nessa must do something that is fun and just for herself at least once a week.” Feeling smug, I wait for the fight, but she just continues to scratch the notes on her page.

“Fine.” She taps the end of her pen against the paper. “Now there’s just one last thing to do to make it official.”

I arch a mocking brow. “You want me to change my Facebook status?”

“No, someone will have to text the Springer.” She sighs.

Perfect.

“Don’t worry. I have just the brother for the job. He loves that thing.”

Peacock Springer:

Alert! Insiders confirm that love is blooming between the Sunflower Fest co-chairs.

eleven

Nessa

It’s beena week since Mateo became my personal driver. During our time together, he’s filled me in on the progress he’s made with the festival. He’s already reached out to the entire group of festival vendors and started on a secret plan. He’s saved my ass, honestly. I did not want to take this on once I saw how much was expected of us. But once something has my name on it, I won’t let it fail.

Between the on-demand chauffeuring and weekly Sunflower Fest planning sessions that often end in watching an old show or movie, I’ve started to really enjoy our time together. Worse, Delia might have been right when she suggested letting someone “babysit” me. Not that I’d ever tell her that.

And not that I actually want someone fussing over me. I’m fine.

“So…” Mateo drums his fingers on the steering wheel, his demeanor uncharacteristically nervous. “I know we still have a lot to do for the festival, but I need to take the week off to work on my pitch and meet with some investors and the bank. Do you think you can tackle the rescue folks meeting? It shouldn’t be too crazy.”

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