“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Brittany asks her friend.
“I’m totally thinking the same thing you’re thinking,” Tiffany confirms.
They turn to me, and Brittany declares brightly, “We should all do a pickleball date.”
“We’re both in a league, and we’re the doubles champions,” Tiffany adds. “It would be so fun to play with our queen.”
Doubles champions? No fucking way.
I’m about to saythanks, but no thanks, when Corbin plants a kiss on my cheek. “My girlfriend and I would love to join you.”
Are you kidding me? He just signed me up for a fake date with a couple of pickleball champions?
I’m so screwed.
Once they’re gone and the door is locked, I advance toward Corbin. He stands proudly in front of the display case, looking pleased with his fake-dating pronouncement.
I’m more conflicted, half turned on and half annoyed. I point at him. “What were you thinking?”
He holds his hands out wide, his brow furrowed. “You’re mad at me?”
“What gave it away?”
He drags his hands through his hair. “Why are you pissed? You went along with that fake-dating thing.”
“Ronnie’s kind of powerful,” I fire back. “He’s a celebrity chef, and he came to our bakery. I want him to say nice things, if he says anything at all.”
“Right. And my point is, you played along when I said you were my girlfriend. It didn’t seem like you had a problem with that.”
I blow out a harsh breath. “That’s not what I’m mad at. I’ll be thrilled if they talk about our bakery. Going along with it made sense.” I poke the bib of hisALL THIS AND I CAN BAKEapron. “I’m pissed you signed me up to play pickleball with two pickleball champions. Why did you do that?”
He grits his teeth, blows out a breath. “Same reason I said we were together.”
“And what’s that reason?” Seriously, I’m dying to know.
He heaves a frustrated sigh. Huffs out through his nostrils. “When they started that whole ridiculous bit that you were sad, it set me off. I needed them to know that this bakery isn’t aboutRomance Beach. This bakery isn’t about the wildly inaccurate things your ex said on TV. This bakery isn’t about you being upset. They’re wrong, and they needed to know it, and I showed them the only way that I could at that moment.”
Oh. I’m definitely more turned on than annoyed now. “What is this bakery about?”
He steps closer to me, inches away, so close I can catch the last remaining notes of his lake-and-campfire scent. “It’s about your dream. It’s about my dream. We started it,” he says, like he’s making a speech. No, a declaration. “And fuck anyone else who tries to tell our story.”
The frustration I felt earlier? It’s gone. The frustration over having to play pickleball champions? Who even cares?
“What’s our story?” I ask, anger now stripped from my tone. Only curiosity is left.
He swallows roughly. “It’s you challenging me to do something that I’ve wanted to do for years. Something I’ve been fucking afraid of doing. Something I’ve been putting off, thinking that I needed to wait. It’s you making me realize that there’s no time like the present.” He pauses, takes a soldiering breath. “It’s you finally getting to chase your dreams. And it’s us taking a chance together. So when they said all that, I felt fucking protective of you, okay?”
This vibration in my chest. This fluttering in my heart. This storm swirling around me. I lick my lips. “Then you’re going to have to teach me how to play a serious game of pickleball. One where we can win. Because that’s what I want for the fake date with Ronnie and his girlfriends.”
“With so much fucking pleasure,” Corbin says with a flirty, dirty grin.
Heat shimmers between us. Vulnerability does too. It’s crackling, pulsing in the air, though neither of us moves.
His eyes are fiery. His fists are clenched. His jaw is tight. He’s a man restrained but breaking apart.
I’ve never been that good at resisting him. I’ve gotten quite adept at winding him up though. That’s why I say the next thing. “Why do you feel protective of me, Corbin?”
He glances at the locked front door. He looks toward the back door that leads to the kitchen, away from the window, away from anyone walking by.
