Page 18 of That Kind of Guy

“I don’t work on job sites, my brother does all that. Here.” I carried the spoon of sauce over to her. “Taste this.” On instinct, she opened her mouth, and I slipped the spoon between her lips. She blinked in confusion. “Enough salt?”

“No. What?” She sputtered and blinked, and I returned to the stove to add more salt. “Can we go back to the part about me definitely not being your fake girlfriend?”

“I thought you wanted to buy The Arbutus.” I glanced at her over my shoulder.

Something flashed across her face. Focus. Determination. Shame. She stared at her wine glass. “I do.”

“Everyone in town is talking about how you got rejected for a business loan.”

Her nostrils flared and the look she gave me could have singed my eyebrows off. “Everyone isnottalking about it.”

I raised my eyebrows at her.

She looked down at her wine, and for a moment, I almost felt bad for her. But then I remembered I was going to offer her a mutually exclusive deal that would give her exactly what she wanted.

“What does this have to do with me definitely not being your fake girlfriend?” she asked.

She watched as I plated the pasta—a pesto white wine sauce with sun-dried tomatoes and prawns. It had everything delicious—salt, fat from the olive oil and pesto, sweetness from the tomatoes. Her fingers toyed with the stem of her wine glass.

“I have you to credit for my genius idea, actually,” I told her, sliding the plate towards her and pulling forks from the cutlery drawer. “Isaac Anderson has something that I don’t—a perfect family of robots.” I took the seat beside her and gestured at her food. “I mean, at least try it.”

She gave me a withering look out of the corner of her eye, picked up her fork, and ate a bite. “Cyborgs. Max and I call them cyborgs because they’re all so perfect,” she said and reached for another bite. “I’m not dating you.”

I laughed. “Of course not, not for real. It’ll all be for show. I just need to show the town that I’m a responsible, reliable guy.”

“You want to lie to everyone.”

I blanched. “Of course not. Iama responsible, reliable guy, but people can’t seem to get over the fact that I’m single.”

“Why would I do this?”

“Because I’m going to loan you the money for the restaurant.” I took a bite of pasta and flavor burst on my tongue. “Damn, I’m a good cook. It’s the wine, it always makes food better.”

She didn’t answer. Her fork hovered over her food, and she stared at her wine glass.

My mouth hitched, but I stayed quiet. She was thinking about it. She was turning over in her mind, inspecting it from all angles, and weighing her options. She had no other choice. I had her right where I wanted her.

“No one is going to believe us,” she finally said.

I had her. She was in, but I kept my expression neutral. “Sure they will.”

She shook her head. “It’s not going to work. This town knows us. They know we—” She flicked her finger back and forth between us. “—would never.”

“Don’t say that about yourself, Avery, you’re a very attractive woman.”

She looked murderous. “That was more about you than me.”

“No one is going to believeyouwouldn’t sleep withme.”

She put her head in her hands. “Oh, my god. This isn’t happening.” She looked up and shook her head. “I’m not doing this. I’m not lying to everyone. It won’t work, and it’ll blow up in our faces.”

I set my elbows on the counter and leaned forward toward her, resting my chin on my palm, looking into her eyes. “What’s your grand plan?”

Her chest rose and fell but she stayed silent. She had nothing. She stabbed her fork into the linguine and took another huge bite. It was good, and shehatedthat it was good, and something about that made me very, very happy.

She shook her head. “No. No one is going to believe that two people who can’t stand each other are together.”

“It’s onlyyouwho can’t standme,” I pointed out. “People believe what they want to.”

---