He pulled out his own phone and whistled low. “Well, that didn't take long.”
“This is happening so fast.” I stared at the screen, feeling slightly dizzy, and I lifted my cup to take another sip.
“You've got a little…” Sawyer vaguely gestured at his own mouth.
I reached up to wipe it away, but he was already leaning across the small table, close enough that I caught the scent of his cologne mixed with the coffee. His thumb brushed across my lip, and suddenly, the coffee shop felt about ten degrees warmer.
“There,” he whispered.
He didn't pull his hand away. His thumb traced along my lower lip now, and I found myself holding my breath, hyperaware of everything—the way his eyes had gone darker, the little crease between his brows, and the fact that we were supposed to be fake dating.
“Hey.” His voice was gentle, his thumb still resting against my cheek. “We've got this, okay? You and me. We'll figure it out as we go.”
“Yeah, no going back now.”
“Good.” He stood and offered me his hand. “Now, let’s get out of here before my family murders me.”
NINE
Ellie
I staredout the window as the car rolled into the neighborhood, my fingers tapping a slow rhythm against the strap of my bag.
I’d stood in front of sold-out crowds and smiled through interviews with strangers who wanted the gossip more than the music. I’d answered questions about my ex, my image, my body, my music, and I’d done it all with a practiced ease I’d been perfecting since the extensive press training I did at seventeen.
But this? This was different.
No cameras. No stage. Just a ranch house full of my fake boyfriend’s family. That was scarier than the headlines.
It was also the first time in months I’d been somewhere without my security team. They’d pushed back, of course, until Sawyer stepped in—calm and confident, claiming he was already fulfilling those bodyguard duties he promised.
“Well, here we are.”
Rather than rushing, he turned off the engine and leaned back in his seat, as if the place held more than memories—like it held a piece of him too.
The ranch-style home sat against a backdrop of open sky. A wraparound porch, mismatched rocking chairs, Christmas lights draped in a way that didn’t try too hard—it looked...warm and lived in. Something out of a life I didn’t know how to imagine until now.
“This is where you grew up?” I asked.
“Yup.” He stretched, one hand behind his head. “Still crash here whenever I’m home. Well, not anymore, technically, since I just bought a place.”
He glanced at me shyly. “You wanna see it tomorrow? Before we head out?”
“I’d like that. Sounds like a good way to end the trip.”
He bumped my elbow with his. “Just warning you, it’s not glamorous. It’s been sitting empty for years. Needs a lot of work.”
I gave him a look. “I’m not here for the granite countertops.”
He grinned. “Good, because there are definitely none of those right now.” The smile lingered between us for a moment before he finally popped his door open. “Ready?”
No. “Yeah.”
I reached for the handle, but he touched my arm gently.
“Hold up.”
Before I could ask why, he hopped out. My brows knitted together as he jogged around the front of the car and opened my door, holding out a hand.
