Page 33 of Just (Fake) Married
Oh my God. STOP.
He took another step forward and now it didn’t matter if I was breathing or not, my breasts brushed his chest and I could smell him – soap and cedar fire, and something spicy beneath it all, that my body remembered from that fucking closet.
I wanted to say something mean, to put him in his place, but his thumb touched my jaw line. A feather light touch and all the air left my body. Every thought deserted my brain. I didn’t know what I was going to say. I didn’t know words.
“It wouldn’t be hard to believe. You grew up to be a beautiful woman, Harmony,” he said.
His other hand touched my jaw, his hands cupped my neck and I knew he could feel my heart pounding against his palms.
“You’re…definitely not ugly,” I breathed. I could feel my eyelids fluttering, wanting to close. My body leaning towards him. I licked my lips like I could already…taste him.
“I think we’ll be fine,” he said. Then stepped back so fast I had to catch myself before I stumbled forward.
He rubbed his hands against his pants like he was rubbing off the feel of my skin, but his face gave me nothing. Was this a joke? Was he affected? Unaffected? Did I dream that whole thing?
“So?” he said, and held out his hand. “Will you fake marry me and save Last Hope Gulch?”
I put my hand in his and tried very hard not to feel anything about it. Not the strength or the callouses. The warmth. The size. But despite my efforts, I felt all of it.
All of him.
The pantry rushed back and my skin contracted with this strange longing I couldn’t control.
There went my New Year’s Resolution, because there would be no kissing in this marriage. None, whatsoever. I couldn’t risk it.
“No kissing,” I blurted out.
“Pardon?”
“That’s my first rule. No kissing on the lips. In public.” I added, because why would he think I wanted him to kiss me in private?
“No kissing?”
“Safe kisses only.”
“What are you talking about?” He looked confused.
“You can do the forehead kiss,” I said, counting out the types of innocent kisses on my fingers. “The cheek kiss, but it’s got to be up here,” I said, pointing to my cheekbone right under my eye.
“That’s pretty high. Why would people think I want to kiss your eye?”
I ignored his question and laid down another finger. “You can do the cute nose kiss, right at the tip. Littleboop.”
“I’ve never been a nose kisser. Always afraid of catching boogers,” he mused.
“You’re notlickingmy nose. I get that we have to pretend to be in love, or whatever, but we’re not kissing on the lips.”
He nodded like that was a ground rule that made sense. “Okay.”
I coughed and pulled my other hand, the one that was still holding his, free. I was so painfully off balance, so completely upside down, I would have to reorganize the entire store just to get myself together.
“You okay?” he asked, and this new version of him, polite and interested, was making everything worse.
“Are you really on a sabbatical?” I said, lifting my eyebrow.
“Sort of,” he said, giving me nothing.
“What does that mean?”
