My arm is still around her waist, and neither of us moves. The scent of coffee and baked goods mixes with her sweet perfume that’s been on my skin since she fell asleep in my arms.


    “Thank you for showing up at the right time,” she whispers, her voice shaky. “I seriously owe you.”


    “Nah, he needed to fuck straight off,” I say, still not happy with how overbearing he was being. “You were ufortable. I saw it on your face.”


    Before Julie can respond, ire screams from behind the counter with excitement, “Oh, it’s Nick. For five seconds, I thought you were kissing Craig!”


    Her hands sp together, bracelets jangling.


    “ire.” Julie’s cheeks are pink.


    She straightens her apron, ncing around the coffee shop, making note of the audience size. All eyes are still on us and have been since the moment I entered. But that’s not anything new. I’m used to people staring. That’s what happens when you’re revealed as the love child of a well-known and highly followed billionaire.


    “I saw the sparks,” ire whispers.


    Julie tenses beside me. Without thinking, I slide my arm tighter around her, pulling her closer against my side. She rxes, melting into me like she was made to fit there.


    “Oh, hush.” Julie tries to hide her embarrassment, and I chuckle, finding it adorable.


    She turns to me. “Wait for me, okay? I’m about to get off.”


    “Of course.” There’s no other option because we need to discuss what the hell just happened.


    After a long pause, Julie sucks in a deep breath and pulls away. She walks through the dining room, avoiding eye contact with everyone. I immediately miss her closeness, exactly how I did this morning when she thought she was sneaking out. I was awake, but I didn’t want to make it awkward for her. The thought makes meugh.


    I move to the register to order a drink, and ire grins at me.


    “What are you having today? The normal ck serial-killer coffee, just likest season?”


    “I’m a changed man,” I admit. “I’ll have an Earl Grey with a dash of milk, a spoonful of honey, and one raw sugar.”


    When I pull out my wallet, she shakes her head.


    “So bougie. This one’s on the house.”


    ire punches a few buttons on theputer, and I hear the order print. I catch a glimpse of Julie in the back, chatting with the other manager. My eyes slide over to the evening crew, making my tea, while ire stares at me.


    “You’ll never be able to read me,” I tell her.


    “Ahh, you’re not as obtuse as you believe, Banks.” Curiosity radiates off her in rolling waves. “But I’d love to listen if you care to exin.”


    “I plead the Fifth.”


    “Typical billionaire response,” she says.


    “I’ll let your bestie tell you what’s going on.” I move to the end of the counter, and she follows me.


    “Oh, you’d better believe she will tell me everything,” she whispers, which does absolutely nothing. “I have at least fifteen follow-up questions after that kiss.”


    “Honestly?” Iugh. “I do too.”


    My Earl Grey appears, and as I grab it, Julie approaches me, sliding her hand into mine.


    “I want all the deets,” ire yells as I’m tugged outside, around the building wall, and away from the nosy customers of Cozy Coffee.


    Her face is still red. “I don’t know what to say.”


    “Can I walk you home?” I hold my arm out for her, and she loops hers through it with a nod.


    Her green eyes and bright red hair practically sparkle under the afternoon sunlight. She’s a dream.


    On the stroll to her ce, we don’t say much. The two of us are too lost in our heads—or at least I am. Julie lives close, but I’ve never been to her ce before.


    “That was …” She removes her arm from mine as we cross the busy street.


    “Intense?” I nce over at her as we file in behind a crowd of tourists.


    “I was going to say unexpected, but intense works too.” She chuckles. “I don’t know what happened back there.”


    “I don’t either,” I reply, brushing my fingers against hers as we walk. “You needed an out, and I gave you one. Just didn’t expect you to kiss me.”


    We turn up the sidewalk to her ce.


    “Ohhh, no, no, no, you were the one who kissed me,” she says.


    “Nope. I’m a gentleman. I always ask first. You stood on your tiptoes, and I couldn’t deny you in front of that piece of shit.”


    “You were moving close, so I thought you were … wait, so it was a pity kiss?” She sounds offended.


    I don’t know how to respond. “Hell no. The opportunity presented itself, and it happened. But you totally kissed me.”


    “That won’t be how I tell the story,” she says, wearing a soft smile.


    “That’s fine. The truth always lives somewhere in the middle,” I say.


    “Well, regardless, thank you for being a good friend.”


    The word hangs between us.


    I’ve never kissed a friend and felt so right. I’m tempted to ask her if the world stopped spinning for her, like it did for me, but I don’t. That kiss will forever be burned on my lips.


    The electricity between us crackles stronger as I taste her ChapStick on my lips. Julie’s sweet and addictive.


    As we arrive at her door, I shove my hands in my pockets so I’m not tempted to reach for her. “If you ever need me to rescue you again, just text me. I’ll even answer this time.”


    Herughter lights me up inside. “Careful, Banks. I might take you up on that.”


    “I’m counting on it.” I grin, heart pounding harder as she turns to her door. I’m not ready to say goodbye yet.


    We stare at each other for an eternity.


    “Want toe in?” she asks.


    “Abso-fucking-lutely,” I say, and I’m relieved.


    When I step inside, it’s how I imagined it would be. Warm and cozy with color everywhere. The ent walls in her living room and office space are painted deep jewel blue and purple. Several mismatched throw pillows that somehow work lie neatly on her couch. Big nts are in every corner of the room, reaching toward the natural light of the windows. It feels like home, a ce where life happens.


    “Wine?” she asks.


    Before I can answer, she’s already pulling two sses from her turquoise-painted cabs.


    “Sure.”


    I watch her move around the kitchen, noticing more entric decorations, like the chili pepper string lights hanging above the window. A collection of coffee mugs with sarcastic quotes dangle on a rack.


    “Your condo is great,” I say, settling onto her couch, twisting my body to watch her.


    “It’s no New York penthouse, but it will do, I suppose.”


    She pops open the cork and pours us two sses. I take one as she sits on the opposite end of the couch, legs tucked under her.


    “You know, I actually grew up in a small town that’s not much different from Cozy Creek.”


    “Oh? Really?” she asks, intrigued.


    “Most assume I had a silver spoon in my mouth because of who my father was, but that wasn’t my life. After my stepdad passed away, it was just me, my mom, and my older sister, Miranda. My mother raised me to be humble.”


    “Wow, I’m sorry.”


    “He was the man I considered to be my dad. I took it hard, but also I’m grateful he was such a big part of my life. I think about him and smile now.”


    Her face softens. “How did you and Zane be friends?”


    “We took lessons from one of the best coaches in the country, who trained Olympians. Our friendship wasn’t formed because of who our fathers were. It was because of our interests. Before I got into hockey, I thought I’d professionally snowboard like Zane.”


    Julie drinks her wine, watching me. “Wow. You were a normie turned billionaire baddie? How did you adjust?”


    This makes meugh. “Who said I have?”


    “Oh. Fair.”


    “I never yed hockey for the money. I yed for the game,” I tell her.


    “And why do you work at the marketing firm?” I ask.


    “Hmm. That’s interesting.” I blink over at her. “No one has ever asked me that question before. No one has cared.”


    She scoots a little closer. “Is it your dream job?”


    “No,” I say out loud for the first time.


    Her brows furrow.


    “I work there because of my sister. Now, it’s about continuing her legacy.”


    She thinks about it. “What is your legacy?”


    “You’re asking the hard questions today.”


    This earns me a grin as she runs her fingers through her hair. Our eye contact is intense, and I can’t help but study her lips or watch how her tongue darts out when she licks them.


    “We should probably talk about earlier,” I say before we lose track.


    She nces up at the clock above her mantel of photos. “Right. We should probably figure out how to squash this before the rumors start.”


    “Or not,” I say, standing to grab the bottle of wine from the kitchen counter.


    Julie finishes her ss, then swipes the bottle from my hand and takes several gulps.


    “I’m sorry, what?” she asks.


    “Let people believe whatever they want.” I meet her eyes. “A love story is great for business. The women sitting in the dining room today were invested.”


    She groans. “They were. This could get out of hand very quickly.”


    “Well, if it helps, I can be your fake boyfriend until I leave,” I say with a pause.


    Her eyes widen.


    “Under one condition,” I add.


    “Yes?”


    “You give me rtionship advice.”


    Julie bursts intoughter, but my smile stays nted.


    “Wait, you’re serious. You don’t need rtionship advice. You’re a yboy.”


    “I was. You’re levelheaded enough to be able to give real feedback. I want to be a good partner for whoeveres next.”


    She holds out her hand. “It’s a deal, but you have to help me too. I don’t want to die alone, and I’m rusty on my dating game.”


    “Okay.” We shake on it like it’s the easiest thing in the world. “My brother is expecting me to return to the city changed. This is a start. Any opinions about me, I want them, good or bad.”


    “Oh, that’s so dangerous, Nick,” she says. “Sometimes, my opinions are things that shouldn’t be said out loud.”


    “Then whisper them,” I mutter.


    She leans forward, her mouth close to my ear, her breasts pressing against my body. “You shouldn’t be looking at me like that.”


    My expression doesn’t change, but my heart rate increases. “For this to work, I think we need rules.”


    “Rules are made to be broken.” She drinks more.


    “That’s usually my line,” I tell her.


    The wine continues to disappear, along with Julie’s filter. “This could get out of hand. You’re Nick Banks, and I’m …”


    “Gorgeous,” I say without hesitation. “Everyone will believe it because I’m Nick Banks, and I shuffle through women?—”


    “You don’t have to finish that sentence,” she interrupts. “Your reputation doesn’t bother me.” She offers me the bottle as she hups.


    “Okay, but don’t believe what you read on the inte. The character they’ve created of me is so far from the truth that it’sical.”


    We finish the bottle of wine. Julie leans her head back on the cushion and watches me.


    “If we’re doing this, you’re right about needing to make rules.” She slides a notebook and a pink pen from her coffee table and flips it open to a nk page.


    “You’re actually writing them down?”


    “Documentation is important.” She clicks the pen a few times, then taps it against her lips. “Rule number one: Friendshipes first. I don’t want to ruin what we have.”


    I nod. “That’s essential and probably the most important rule of all. Um, number two: Total honesty about what’s working and what’s not. If I do something that gives you the ick, tell me. And vice versa.”


    “Brutal honesty,” she says, writing it down.


    “Rule three: We are both aware it’s fake,” she says.


    “Yep, can totally do that,” I add.


    She writes it down, then pauses. “What about PDA and all that?”


    The air shifts as I think about capturing her lips again.


    “That should probably happen only when it’s necessary,” I offer. “Hand-holding, casual touches. Nothing that crosses lines.”


    “Should we define those lines?” She’s not looking at me now, very focused on the notebook. “If we’re going to make this believable, there might be moments when we need to …”


    “Kiss?”


    “Yeah.” The wordes out breathy. “But only when it’s absolutely necessary. An example is if Craig shows up or if someone questions us. Or if eyes are on us.”


    “That’s fair. Performance kisses only.” I clear my throat. “What about a safe word? In case either of us gets ufortable and we need to reel it back or walk away?”


    “Smart.” She thinks for a moment. “What about pumpkin spice?”


    I stare at her. “Really? That’s your safe word?”


    “It’s seasonal and easy to throw into conversation without it being obvious.” She writes it down. “Oh, and our end date is November first. That’s when you’re nning to leave?”


    “That’s right.”


    “Okay. And …” She hesitates, pen hovering over the page. “What happens if one of us develops actual feelings?”


    The questionnds between us like a grenade with the pin pulled. We both know the chemistry is already there, crackling under the surface of this friendship we’re trying to build.


    “We won’t,” I say finally. “Rule number onees into y. I’m bad at love, Jules.”


    “Right. Of course. Oh, we should do another rule of no jealousy. If either of us wants to talk to someone else?—”


    I look at her like she’s lost her damn mind. “During our fake rtionship?”


    “After. Or … I don’t know. We should be prepared if the situation presents itself, right?”


    Something hot res in my chest at the thought of her with someone else.


    “For this to work, we should probably be exclusively fake dating,” I tell her. “Thest thing we need is a scandal.”


    She gives me a look that says she heard the edge in my voice. “That’s fair. We have to keep it believable so Craig will leave me alone—at least until November.”


    I lean back, studying her. “What about dates? How often do we need to be seen together?”


    “Two or three times a week. Coffee shop appearances, maybe dinner at Bookers, where locals can see us. All the fall activities.” She clicks the pen a few more times. “We should probably establish our backstory, too, because we’ll be asked a lot when the town catches wind. When we got together, how long have we been hiding it, you know, that sort of thing.”


    “The truth is always the best answer to that,” I suggest. “It’s a new development. We’ve been talking to one another for about a year and just decided, why not?”


    “That’s actually perfect.” She sets down the pen, looking at our list. “I think we’ve covered everything. Clear rules, clear boundaries, clear end date.”


    “Very professional.”


    She’s smiling, some of the tension easing. “This is crazy, right? We’re actually doing this?”


    “Apparently, we are.”


    The notebook full of rules sits between us, but somehow, it feels more like a challenge than a safety.


    This is the start of something dangerous, disguised as something safe.


    I already know I’m in trouble, and I should leave before I do something silly, like kiss her.


    “We should figure out our couple style. Today was a bit chaotic.”


    “Chaotic is generous.” Sheughs, not a trace of embarrassment now. “Next time, we should aim for less desperation, more casual. But you’re right. What’s our vibe? Are we touchy-feely? Reserved but intimate? Do we use pet names?”


    “No pet names. We want believable, not nauseating,” I tell her.


    “Agreed. So, about the casual-kissing thing. Maybe we should practice that,” she says, blinking up at me.


    There’s something tempting about the offer, but the anticipation is more gratifying.


    “Nah,” I say, standing, knowing that’s my cue to go. “Where’s the fun in that? I say we wing it. Live dangerously.”


    She looks genuinely surprised. “Mr. Corporate Strategy wants to improvise?”


    “Hey, I’m trying to be more spontaneous. When we kiss, it will just be a peck. We can handle it.” I stretch and move toward the door. “Besides, half the fun is the unpredictability of it all.”


    “That’s a good point.” She walks me to the door. “I’m looking forward to this.”


    “Want to have dinner tomorrow night at Bookers?” I ask.


    “I’d love to,” she says.


    “Night, Little Red.”


    “Night, boyfriend.”


    As I walk away, I feel lighter than I have in months.


    My phone buzzes before I’m even at the end of her sidewalk.


    Julie


    Forgot to ask … are you a hand-holder or arm-around-the-shoulder type of boyfriend?


    I grin, typing back.


    Nick


    Depends. Are you a snuggle-into-my-side or maintain-your-independence type of girlfriend? I’m following your lead.


    Julie


    Hmm. Guess we’ll both find out tomorrow.