“Dinner once a week. Somewhere people will see us.”
“That's a lot of dinners.”
“It's three dinners. Four if you count Valentine's Day.”
Holden snorted. “We're not going out Valentine's Day, that's my busiest day of the year.”
“I'll help out that day too, if you haven't found a new assistant by then.”
Holden's eyes narrowed. “Does lunch count as a date?”
I tried to stifle the laugh at this bartering we were doing. “Lunch counts if we're seen. Holding hands, maybe. Looking like we're actually together.”
“Holding hands,” he repeated, like he was testing the words.
“Is that a problem?”
“No. Just... clarifying.” He shifted in his seat, and the flush crept up the back of his neck. “What else?
“At least one weekend night. Like an actual date. Dinner and something after. A walk, drinks, light PDA, whatever. Something that looks romantic.”
“PDA?”
My face went hot. “Public displays of affection. Like…” I nodded over at the park.
His lips curled into a half-smile. “You said holding hands. What else?” His voice was gruff, but he wasn't looking away. “If we're selling this, people are going to expect—”
“A few kisses,” I said, before I could lose my nerve. “Nothing excessive. Just enough to be convincing.”
“Like in the park.”
The memory hit me. His mouth on mine, my hand fisted in his collar, the way the kiss had got real… real fast.
“Maybe not exactly like the park,” I managed. “That was... a lot.”
We stared at each other. The café noise seemed to fade, and for a moment it was just us, the table between us, the flowers I was still clutching like a lifeline.
“So.” Holden cleared his throat. “Four days a week at the shop, plus Saturdays if I'm swamped. Three dinners, one weekend date, hand-holding in public, occasional...” He gestured vaguely.
“Kissing.”
“That.” His ears were definitely pink now. “Three weeks. Through Valentine's Day. Then we're done.”
“Then we're done,” I agreed. “You get your shop help during the busiest season, I get Landon off my back. Everybody wins.”
Silence. He was quiet for a long moment, turning something over.
“This is insane,” he said.
“Completely.”
“I don't do things like this.” Then he barked out a laugh, loud enough to get the attention of a few diner patrons. “Then again, I kissed you in the middle of Main Street.”
“That you did.”
He exhaled. Ran a hand through his dark hair, leaving it slightly disheveled. “I can't believe I'm fucking agreeing to this.”
I laughed, surprised and a little giddy. “That's not a no.”
