“False,” he says, pointing his fork at me. “I also like company when I’m rubbing it in after I win.”
I roll my eyes, but the smile tugging at my lips refuses to leave. No matter how much I try to play it cool. And the truth is Idon’t mind his emergencies. Not even a little. I like being the one he calls. The one he counts on. The one he needs.
But not everyone has felt that way. A few of my exes made it painfully clear that being Liam Stone’s right hand came with a cost they weren’t willing to put up with. The unpredictable hours. The late-night texts. The way I’d drop everything when he needed me.
Apparently, that kind of loyalty looks a lot like something else.
“Speaking of Mario Kart,” he says casually, “you should come over. We could play a few rounds.”
I lift a brow. “It’s supposed to rain tonight.”
“So?”
“So,” I say pointedly, “I don’t want to get trapped on the ranch.”
He scoffs. “One woman gets stranded in a flood and suddenly it’s folklore.”
“Didn’t the surveyors literally say it could happen again?”
He waves a dismissive hand like that’s beneath his concern. “That’s Sam’s problem now.”
“And it’ll be mine if I end up stuck in a barn with no cell signal and a goat staring at me in judgment.” I pause, then add with a grin, “Besides, Lura’s teaching me how to make peach cobbler tomorrow.”
His expression drops into mock betrayal. “You’re standing me up for an eighty-year-old woman?”
“She’s almost ninety,” I correct, biting back a laugh, “and yes.”
He lets out a dramatic sigh, hand over his heart. “The betrayal. I also want to point out that you wouldn’t be stuck in the barn with the goats. You’d be in the house. With me.”
God, how I wish he meant those words in a different way.
I say, “I’ll bring you cobbler when I’m done.”
His eyes light up like I just offered him gold. “Good. That’ll count as a date.”
I shake my head. “That’s not how dating works.”
“Honey, everything’s a date when you’re trying to fall in love.”
And just like that, I forget how to breathe.
Because I know he’s joking.
Iknowhe is.
But for a second, my heart forgets this is all pretend.
5
We finish our meal, the plates cleared, and the check delivered with a smile that's slightly less syrupy than when we first sat down, probably because the server finally realized Liam wasn’t ditching me mid-meal.
Liam slides his card into the booklet without hesitation.
“Don’t want to go Dutch?” I tease as he scrawls his name across the receipt.
I expect a smartass remark, but he just glances up at me and says, “Boyfriend always pays,” like it’s obvious. And effortless.
I smile. So does he.
