The sincerity in his voice does weird things to my throat.
"I'm okay," I say. Then, because honesty seems to be our thing now: "I'm really okay. Like... surprisingly okay. Better than okay."
His mouth curves. "Yeah?"
"Yeah." I take another sip, hiding behind the mug. "I mean, I can't walk without looking like I got into a fight with a mechanical bull, but—"
"Jane."
"—and I'm pretty sure I have a bruise on my hip from the counter—"
He leans in and kisses me.
Soft. Brief. Enough to shut me up and restart my heart simultaneously.
When he pulls back, I've forgotten what I was saying.
"Better than okay," he says, like he's confirming it for bothof us.
I nod. Words are hard.
He clears his throat, and something shifts in his expression. More careful. More measured.
"We should probably talk about what this is.”
My stomach drops. Here it comes. The reality check. The boundaries conversation. The reminder that this is temporary, transactional, ending in four days.
"Okay," I manage.
"Last night was—" He pauses, choosing his words. "Last night was incredible. But we still have a job to do. You need proof on Blake. I need to keep my family off my back. And this—" he gestures between us, "—complicates that if we're not clear about what it is."
Right. Of course. Professional boundaries. This is just physical attraction. Temporary arrangement. No feelings allowed.
I paste on a smile. "Totally. I get it. We're both adults. This doesn't have to be weird."
"It's not weird," he says. "But I don't—"
“I don’t,” I cut him off, maybe too quickly. “Think anything of it. I mean, I’m thinking clearly. Very clearly. Crystal clear, actually. We were relaxed, half-naked, everything already wound tight from the massage. Then things got heated. We made a choice. That’s it. No big deal.”
I see the frown on his face as he studies mine for a long moment. "No big deal…"
"Exactly. Why don’t we just focus on our deal. Fake dating for your family. Getting proof on Blake for me. And if we happen to... enjoy each other's company in the meantime..." I shrug, aiming for casual. "That's just a bonus."
"A bonus," he repeats slowly.
"A very nice bonus," I clarify. "But not the main thing. The main thing is the deal. Fifty thousand dollars. Freedom from matchmaking. Mission accomplished, everyone wins, we part ways as friends."
The word "friends" tastes wrong in my mouth, but I force it out anyway.
West nods once. “Friends,” he agrees.
"With benefits," I add, then immediately regret it. "I mean—not that we have to—I'm not assuming—"
"Jane." Hecatches my hand. "Breathe."
I breathe.
“I like you.” His thumb stills against my hand. "A lot. And last night meant something to me.”
