“You’re saying you don’t wanna sleep with me?”
“I’m saying… no. Or yes. I mean—ugh.”
“You should’ve thought of that beforealmostwinning the bet.”
“What?”
“You heard me,” I said, straight-faced. “In Dalmore, bets are considered 50% binding.”
She narrowed her eyes. “You’re messing with me.”
“Why would I do that?” I grinned and sat beside her—just close enough to ‘accidentally’ brush against her arm. Or knee. Or both.
Not gonna lie—self-control was running low.
“I’m serious,” I said. “Tomorrow we have to go to the county clerk’s office. Get the paperwork started. Half-engaged is still engaged.”
She laughed, half-nervous, half-something else. And I could tell… she still didn’t know if I was bullshitting or not.
Which made it all the more fun.
I wanted nothing more than to kiss those gorgeous cherry-colored lips.
But then I saw it. That flicker of hesitation in her eyes. Maybe she wasn’t as fearless as she liked to pretend. And honestly?
She was too damn good to scare off.
“So, I’m guessing the night before our wedding, you’d prefer we sleep separately?” I raised a brow, trying to ease the tension.
She burst out laughing again. That sound—it did something to me. It grounded me and lit me up all at once.
“You haven’t even proposed,” she teased. “And without that, none of this means anything.”
“Thank you for letting me know your expectations. I’ll make sure to keep them in mind moving forward.”
I said it as seriously as I could, which only earned me a pillow to the face.
“I don’t even know your last name!” she grinned.
“Would you like to know what you’ll be called from tomorrow on?”
She kept laughing. And God, I wanted to spend my life making her do just that. Jesus. My whole body burned for her.
I couldn’t stop looking. Couldn’t stop wanting. Every muscle in me screamed to pull her closer, drag her upstairs, and make her mine.
She didn’t move.
She felt it too—I could tell.
She was weighing it.
Wondering if this was about to happen.
But then she blinked, broke the silence, and pulled us back:
“Look, you’ve been great. Heroic even. But I don’t do ‘same-bed’ on night one almost-fiancé.”
“You sure you’re good with the couch?” I asked, pushing down the grin. “I mean… I got a real bed. In a room. Comes with a handsome cowboy.”
