The stuff I’d grabbed from my place last night was still mostly shoved into a couple of bags in the corner of Tate’s guest room. There was still more to get, but it hadn’t seemed necessary to try to bring more than enough clothes and such to get me through the next few weeks. Because that was likely how long I had to try to turn this fake engagement she’d accidentally landed us in into something real. Maybe it was a dick move to use the situation against her, given how upset she was. But she’d kissed me back yesterday. That gave me hope that everything I was feeling wasn’t one sided.
I needed to figure out the best way to turn this to my advantage. Given Tate wasn’t balking at public displays of affection in the name of supporting the fiction, it seemed like the most obvious answer was to orchestrate as many opportunities for us to appear together as a couple in public. If we kept acting like an engaged couple, maybe she’d start to feel like one. Maybe she’d acknowledge her attraction to me and realize that the two of us were actually a really great idea as a couple. If I could just get her to that point, we’d figure out the rest later.
Giving Cornbread one last scruff, I heaved him off and dragged myself out of bed. Pulling on a t-shirt with my sweatpants, I followed the scent of coffee to the kitchen. Cornbread followed close at my heels. The eastern light streamed through her windows, painting everything in soft, dappled gold, including Tate. She stood at the counter in running shorts and a tank top, her hair pulled back in a messy braid, both hands wrapped around an oversized mug like it might save her from drowning.
“Morning.” I headed for the coffeemaker, familiar with where she kept everything from countless mornings after poker or movie nights gone too late.
She shifted to make room for me in the small space. “I’m so sorry about all this.”
“You said that last night. Several times.” I poured coffee into my favorite Rocket City Trash Pandas mug—the one that had somehow migrated here over a couple years ago and never made it home.
“I know, but?—”
“Tate, seriously. It’s fine.” I turned to face her, hip propped against the counter. “Unless you’re having second thoughts about me moving in?” I hadn’t exactly given her a lot of room to argue with me about it last night.
“No! I mean...” Pink crept into her cheeks. “Your stuff is already here, anyway.”
“Some of it.” I took a careful sip of the coffee. Perfect, as always. She knew exactly how I liked it—with the barest pinch of cinnamon. “I need to grab a few more things from my place later. All I was thinking about last night was clothes and toiletries. I’ve gotten used to traveling light.” It was an inevitable consequence of deployment.
“Right.” She stared into her mug. “This is weird, right? I mean, you’ve stayed over before, but...”
“But this time I’m supposed to be your fiancé instead of your drunk business partner who can’t drive home?”
“Yeah.”
Her hair gleamed in the morning sun like something out of a fairy tale, and I fought the urge to reach out and touch. To tuck that stray strand behind her ear. To cup her face and kiss her like I had in my dream. Instead, I took another sip of coffee.
“We’ll figure it out.”
Because Cornbread was doing his “I want breakfast” dance, she moved over to fill his bowl with kibble. I watched her go through the motion of feeding my dog. Who had to be as much her dog after the past year. That felt a little weird. And yet, if things went the way I wanted, it would all work out in the end.
“So, out of curiosity, you said you got into all of this for publicity. Has there been an uptick in bookings since the article ran?”
Tate winced. “Yeah.” Guilt was written across every inch of her lovely face.
“Well, you set out to achieve a certain end. It worked, even if it did have some unintended consequences.”
She stared at me. “You’re taking this awfully well.”
I lifted one shoulder in a shrug and sipped more coffee. “Nobody’s shooting at me or throwing rocks at me on patrol. Nothing about this situation threatens my actual survival, so in the grand scheme of things, eh, it’s not a big deal.”
Liar, liar, pants on fire.
It was a big deal. Just not for any of the reasons she thought.
Distress flickered over her face.
Right. Those were things I deliberately hadn’t told her because I hadn’t wanted her to worry. I reached out to rub my hand along her arm. “Hey, it’s fine. I’m okay. I didn’t get hurt. Tell me what’s on the schedule for today.”
“A client meeting with someone who saw the article, actually.”
“Great. What time?”
Tate frowned. “You’re only just back. You deserve some downtime after your deployment.”
“It’s a client meeting, not a full-on job. I can smile and nod and make suggestions. Besides, they’re gonna expect to see the pair of us, right? Might as well not disappoint.”
She offered another wincing sort of smile and lifted her mug in a toast. “Yay?”
