I tried to back up when he was done, but there wasn’t anywhere to go thanks to the kitchen sink.
“I know you well enough, Willow.”
Dang it! I’d never understand the strange magic that possessed his lips whenever he said my name, but it had the power to turn my knees to jelly. “Quit saying that.”
“Saying what?” Electricity arced from his body to mine and sent a shiver racing down my spine.
I squirmed beneath his gaze and gulped. “My name.”
A slow smile spread across his lips, and something playful glinted in his eyes. “Willow?” He said it so slow and sweet my head buzzed. “Sure thing, Willow. I’ll stop saying Willow as soon as I’m done talking to you… Willow.”
I swear, each time he said my name it was lower, slower, and hotter than the time before. My breaths came in shallow puffs as he inched closer. I put my hand on his chest—his firm, sculpted chest—and pushed him back. “Fine, tease me all you want, but you’ve got to give me room to breathe.”
“I had no idea reaching for these would be enough to keep you from breathing.” He took a step back, his eyes refusing to let go of me, and held up a few packets of sugar. “These were behind you. I figure you for a cream and sugar kind of gal. Am I right?”
Yes. He was right, but he was never going to get the satisfaction of hearing me admit it.
I broke our gaze and set the coffee on the counter. “It’s too hot in here for coffee. Thanks anyway.” I slipped away to the refrigerator and stuffed my head in the freezer. I scoured the shelves for a bag of frozen veggies to cool my blazing cheeks, but Mr. Flirty-britches didn’t have the decency to keep such necessities on hand for the victims of his charm.
“Still hungry?”
I shut the door and turned to face him. “No.”
“What were you looking for in there?” His half-smile told me he knew exactly why I’d shoved my head in his ice box.
“Never mind. We’ve got more important things to talk about. Like, why your idea is a terrible one.”
“There’s nothing terrible about it. It solves all our problems.”
“It doesn’t solve anything. It creates a wholeuniverseof new problems.”
“Name one.”
I pressed my fingers to my temple and sighed. “We’re not compatible. You’re not serious. And I’m going to be on tour next year. Need I go on?”
“Hold up. I asked for one good reason, not three lame ones.” He laughed.
“Lame? How is incompatibility a lame excuse for two people to steer clear of romance? It sounds like thebest excuse to me.”
“Ah, so you admit that it’s an excuse.”
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”
He held his hands up in surrender and tucked away his teasing grin. “I know. I’m just yanking your chain again. But those really aren’t good reasons to not give us a shot.”
“Oh, really? From where I’m standing, they all seem like ironclad reasons to say, ‘no way Jose’ to this whole messed up idea.”
“Think about it. First, we won’t know if we’re compatible until we try. Second, I’m nothing but serious about this whole thing. And third, you being on tour isn’t a deal breaker for me. You do realize that I’m going to be earning a living on wheels next year, right?”
Even as recently as this morning, I never would have guessed that beneath that luxurious head of hair resided an actually functioning brain. In any other man, I’d find that very attractive. But in Cash, it was nothing but the cause of frustrating arguments that left me little wiggle room to get my way.
I shook my head, searching for a solid reason to say no. But it wasn’t easy. He wasn’t a mooch, he wasn’t a felon, and he wasn’t hard on the eyes. But even as tempting as he was when his eyes were locked on to mine, I had to remember how this whole day had started. Everything had been pretend. A sham. A fraud.
Not real.
Those were all synonyms for the word fake. I was good with synonyms. It was how I came up with such catchy lyrics to my songs—songs that would be topping the charts if I could find a way to convince Cash to see things from my point of view.
The last time I looked, I wasn’t some fairy godmother with a magic wand that I could wave to turn this Pinocchio relationship into a Cinderella story.
