Page 35 of Steeped In Problems

He didn’t move. Didn’t blink. But something in the air changed, just a little. Kristy felt her heart skip, then settle in again.

She tucked the napkin into her pocket. “I’ll memorize all this before tomorrow. Thanks for going along with it.”

He shrugged, but his posture softened. “You said it’d help.”

She smiled. “You’re a good boss.”

He looked at her, deadpan. “I’m going to be an even better fake boyfriend.”

That made her laugh, full and loud, and she realized she hadn’t laughed like that since—well, a long time.

They finished their coffee in a companionable quiet. Kristy packed up the last of her notes, wiped down the bar one final time, and turned off the last overhead light. The shop shrank into itself, cozy and small, like it was holding its breath.

“Ready to go?” Tanner asked.

“Yeah,” she nodded.

They walked out together into the cool night. The parking lot was empty, save for their cars and the ghost of the day’s noise. Tanner didn’t say anything, but he walked her to her car anyway, hands jammed in his pockets, eyes scanning the shadows like he was still on duty.

She slipped her keys into her door lock, then turned to face him. “Thanks, Blaze.”

He nodded once. “You’re welcome,” he told her softly, then walked away.

She watched him go, then got in her car. As she pulled out, she saw him pause at his own truck door, like he was checking to make sure she made it out okay.

She drove home with the window cracked, breathing in the summer night, and wondered how it was possible to feel so nervous and so hopeful at the same time. Maybe this was how second chances started.

Chapter Ten

Tanner wasn’t the type to get nervous about a dinner date, fake or otherwise. But for the entire afternoon, he’d done nothing but circle his living room, second-guessing the blue button-up he’d picked out. It was one of only two he owned that could pass for “nice,” both gifts from his sister at different Christmases. He considered, for the hundredth time, if the sleeves looked better rolled or down to the wrist. The mirror told him to quit fussing, but his gut said to try harder.

By the time he finally left his apartment, he’d changed his shirt twice and worn a permanent crease in the welcome mat. He drove his old Chevy into town, cracked the window, and let the cool evening air slap sense into him. This was supposed to be a play. An act. Something to get Kristy’s ex off her back, nothing more. But it had been a long time since Tanner had played at anything romantically, fake or not.

He pulled up outside Kristy’s place ten minutes early, waited exactly eight minutes, then texted her: Outside. No rush.

His heart hammered while he waited. He watched two kids chase a dog down the sidewalk, an old man in slippers check his mailbox three times in five minutes, and the flicker of a porchlight across the street. He counted seconds and tried not to look desperate.

The door to Kristy’s duplex opened. She stepped out, locking up behind her with one hand, holding a tiny purse in the other. Tanner didn’t know a thing about women’s dresses, but even he could tell this one was something special—pale yellow, scattered with tiny blue flowers. Her hair was down, curls tamed to something shiny and soft. He’d seen her every day for months now, but this version was new. He tried not to stare, failed, and then did it anyway.

He climbed out and met her at the curb. “You look nice,” he said, and immediately wanted to punch himself for how basic it sounded.

She smiled, anyway. “So do you. The blue is...very on-brand.”

He grunted. “A gift from my sister.”

“She has good taste.” She opened the passenger door and slid in, knees and ankles together in a way that made him feel like a lumbering bison.

He got behind the wheel. The air in the cab was thick with nerves. He fumbled for something to say, then just let the silence settle. That had always worked for him—quiet. Most people found it unnerving. Kristy just let it be.

“Do we need to go over our story again?” she asked after a few blocks, voice a little high.

Tanner thought about it. “You mean, like, first date details?”

“I mean, if we’re selling this, we need to be on the same page. Are we the type who does long walks in the park, or the kind who takes and posts photos online?”

He hadn’t even considered that. “Probably not the online one. I don’t even have Instagram.”

She grinned at him, quick and genuine. “Of course you don’t. You probably still use a flip phone.”

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