Willa’s already on the porch, and the sight of her knocks the air right out of my lungs. She’s wearing a soft green sweater that makes her skin look sun-kissed, like the last whisper of summer is still clinging to her. A short denim skirt shows off legs that are all strength and soft curves, ending in the scuffed ankle boots she clearly wears for work, which somehow make the whole look even better.
She’s beautiful—radiantly, maddeningly so. The kind of beautiful that short-circuits logic—round hips, soft curves, the kind of body that makes me want to dive in and forget how to breathe.
But then I catch the stiff set of her shoulders, the way she’s biting her lower lip, keeping that careful distance between us. A reminder that we’re on opposite sides at the moment, and if I want any chance of getting her to want us, she needs to feel safe first.
This is supposed to be a date, fake or not, and she looks like she’s about to face a firing squad.
“You brought backup,” she calls, and there’s a forced lightness in her voice that makes my chest ache. She’s trying so hard to pretend she’s okay.
“Couldn’t detach him from my leg,” I lie, opening the passenger door. “Hope you don’t mind.”
Buttercup launches himself at Willa the second she’s within range, all seven pounds of runty Pomeranian covering her in dog hair and sloppy kisses. And just like that, something in her cracks open, just a little bit. Charlie was right about bringing Buttercup.
She laughs—actually laughs—and the tension melts from her shoulders.
“Oh my god, you’re so sweet,” she coos, letting him lick her face. “Yes, you are. You’re the sweetest boy.”
There it is. That’s what I needed to see.
“I’m feeling a little jealous here,” I say, and she looks up at me with that shy smile that makes my chest ache.
“You brought him for me, didn’t you?”
Busted. “Maybe.”
“Then you’re pretty lucky, too,” she says softly, and the way little smile she fires back at me makes something warm unfurl in my chest.
I help her into the truck, and Buttercup immediately claims her lap, his tail wagging so hard it nearly throws him onto the floorboards. Her hands fidget with Buttercup’s ears, her gaze fixed out the window.
“You look beautiful, by the way,” I say as I pull away from her house. “Green’s a good color on you.”
Her cheeks flush pink. “Thanks. I wasn’t sure what to wear for… this.”
“This being our fake date?” I keep my tone light and easy.
“Yeah.” She lets out a breath. “I’ve never been very good at dating. Fake or otherwise.”
“Well, lucky for you, I’m an expert.” That gets a small smile. “Rule number one of Beau McCrae’s Dating Manual: coffee first. Can’t have a good date without caffeine.”
The drive to the Human Bean is filled with Buttercup’s panting and Willa’s soft laughter as he insists on resting his head on her lap. I pull through the drive-through, and she orders something that sounds more like a dessert than coffee.
“Iced white chocolate mocha with extra whipped cream and caramel drizzle,” I repeat back to her, grinning. “That’s not coffee. That’s a milkshake.”
“It’s my weakness,” she admits, flushing again. “Don’t judge me.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” I order a black coffee for myself and hand her the sugary monstrosity when we pull away. “So, weakness for sweet things. What else should I know about you?”
She takes a sip, getting whipped cream on her nose that she doesn’t notice. “That’s classified information, McCrae. You’ll have to work for it.”
“Fair enough.” I reach over and swipe the cream off her nose with my thumb, bringing it to my mouth. Her breath catches, and I file that reaction away for later. “Tell me about California. What made you want to come back?”
I had to get the Willa crash course from Charlie and Jake before coming.
The question is casual, but I watch her carefully, looking for the walls to go up. They don’t. Instead, she leans back in her seat, one hand absently stroking Buttercup’s head.
“It wasn’t home,” she says simply. “I thought it would be. Thought getting away from Muddy Creek—away from my father and all the memories—would fix something. Even after he died, I stayed gone. I figured the world was bigger than Wyoming, and I should be out there seeing just how big it was. But in the end, I just… felt like coming home.”
A small smile tugs at her lips. “Didn’t hurt that the APBRA internship is about as top-tier as it gets in the country.”
