Page 3 of Fake It for Christmas

Nobody who seemed like they’d want to be my boyfriend.

I turned back toward the bar and ordered a second drink, feeling my Fixer Brothers dreams slip away bit by bit.

Maybe it’s time to pack up and head home. You don’t win things, anyway, Shane.

“Hey,” I heard from beside me a minute later. “You going to come join me, or do you just like the view?”

I looked up in the middle of a sip of my drink to see the guy who’d been over in one of the alcoves, playing pool with the woman.

Damn.

He was being awfully forward for a guy I didn’t know.

“What happened to your girlfriend?” I asked.

He was wearing a sweater with a tiny Christmas reindeer pattern all over it, which I couldn’t help but love. There was something about his eyes, too. They were brown, but speckled with green and gold, contrasting against his dark brown hair. His eyes had the permanently-sleepy bedroom eyes kind of look that I loved a little too much.

Probably straight, and definitely out of my league, but I definitely liked looking at him.

“Not my girlfriend,” he said. “Just a friend from my theater group. And she headed home.”

I lifted my eyebrows. “Theater?”

He nodded. “Local plays. That kind of stuff.”

I furrowed my brow. “There’stheaterhere in Bestens?”

He cast his eyes behind the bar, breaking eye contact with me for a moment. “Well, there was a lot more in New York City, but I haven’t exactly been able to break it there yet. I’m here in Tennessee until the new year, staying with my grandparents.”

“That’s a long time for a vacation. Two months?”

The guy moved his fingers over a knot in the wood bar top, his expression far away again. “My living situation got a little fucked up in New York. I’m back here for now.”

My heart panged. It was clear I’d hit a tender spot.

“Well, maybe I’ll come see one of your plays sometime,” I offered. “Here in Tennessee or over in New York.”

His eyes flashed up to meet mine again, the glimmer returning to them. “I’d rather you come play a round of pool with me, right now.”

Damn.

Something inside me perked up.

Something likemaybe he’s not so straight, after all.

I picked up my glass and stood up. “Deal.”

He cocked his head to one side. “If I win, though, you have to tell me why you’re sitting at the bar looking so sad tonight.”

Damn. Knew I looked desperate.

“Sad?” I protested. “Shit. I wasn’t trying to look sad. I was going for… friendly and mysterious and radiating charisma.”

He laughed, and the skin around his eyes crinkled up. “I see.”

“And hold on,” I said. “I get to say my terms, too. If I win the round, you have to… tell me your deepest, darkest secret.”

I expected pushback from him, but he just nodded. “Easy. Done. I’m Rowen, by the way.”

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