"I don't do relationships." I bring my glass to my lips. "I'm a solo act."
I take a drink and hold his eyes as they look so deeply into mine that it takes real effort not to fold.
"Same." He finally breaks our stare.
"If this is going to work, you have to be honest with me. You expect me to believe you haven't slept with anyone? You literally just gave me a rundown of your ability to please women."
"That wasn't the question. You asked me if I've been in a relationship, not if I slept with anyone."
"Fine. Have you?"
"Yes." He takes a slow sip, letting the silence stretch until I want to scream. "But nothing that mattered. Never the same person twice." He stops himself, jaw working like he's revealing too much. Then he just waits, watching me with those intense eyes.
"Good. Then we lie."
"Lie? I'm not sure I'm following." He leans in, resting his elbow on the bar.
"This needs to be real. No one can know I'm marrying you for anything other than love. It needs to be convincing. And when I say no one can know, I mean no one. Your brother, Laney, Sydney, and my dad—especially him—they all need to believe we are madly in love."
His eyebrows rise, and his dark eyes sparkle with genuine amusement, but he doesn't laugh. Instead, he runs a hand through his hair, once, then twice, the way he does when nothing is sitting right with him. "How exactly do you plan on selling the people who are closest to us that you and I are head-over-heels in love with our track record. Hell, you've gone out of your way to ignore me since you returned to Bardstown."
"Easy." I swirl the contents in my glass before taking a drink. "It's a tale as old as time. Two star-crossed lovers who fell in love the first time they met. Fate said our paths were meant to cross, but our circumstances, not a lack of love, have stood in the way."
It's not until he stops drumming his fingers on the bar top that I realize I leaned in too. My knees are now fully between his spread legs, my shoulders hovering above his thighs. I pull back sharply, putting deliberate space between us, and it doesn’t go unnoticed.
His jaw tightens, and his gaze drops to where my hand grips the bar, white-knuckled as I try to ground myself. When he looks back up, something flickers in his eyes before his expression goes carefully blank.
"You know if you want people to believe the lie, you're going to have to act like you love me." He nods toward the bartender still hovering nearby, wiping down glasses close enough to overhear. Then, his hand covers mine.
I can't help but watch as it slowly envelopes mine. The callused pad of his thumb traces lazy circles on my wrist, and heat quickly crawls up my arm and spreads through my chest. He waits until my eyes find his, the air between us intensely charged as his other hand finds my knee. His palm sears through the thin satin of my dress. I pinch my lips together not only to quiet my protests but to silence the gasp building in my throat.
His teeth teasingly graze his bottom lip like he's actually enjoying touching my body. "You're going to have to get used to me touching you. You'll need to pretend to like it." His hand begins to drift up my thigh with an achingly slow pace as he leans closer still. Close enough that I can almost taste the tequila on his lips. "You're going to have to kiss me," he murmurs, his eyes dropping to my mouth where my lips part on instinct.
It would be so easy to lean in and take what he's offering. I lick my lips, and his eyes track the path of my tongue with predatory focus. Damn it, I hate that he's already so good at lying, how he already looks like he wants to kiss me. How part of me wants to let him. I can't let him see that he has the power to affect me, especially when he shouldn't.
I press my hand flat against his chest, putting needed space between us. "Does that mean you're saying yes?"
He draws in a sharp breath, and just like that, the haze breaks. He straightens in his seat, physically pulling himself back from whatever edge we were teetering on. Reaching for hisdrink, he takes a long pull as though he's using those seconds to rebuild his composure. "I agree, but I have a condition of my own."
I quirk a brow. "Name it."
"You marry me, right here, right now."
CHAPTER TWO
ASHA
My hand jerks back from his chest like I've been burned. "What?"
"You marry me tonight." He says it so casually, like he's suggesting we order another round.
A disbelieving, laugh bubbles up. "You're joking."
His gaze doesn't waver. Doesn't even flicker with amusement. Oh, God. He's not joking.
My pulse kicks into overdrive, and suddenly, the bar feels too small. "Trigger, that's…we can't just…" I swallow hard, trying to organize the chaos in my head. Proposing this arrangement was one thing. A strategic plan with a conveniently vague timeline. Butnow? Tonight? I thought I'd have time.
"Why not?" He leans back, studying me with those knowing eyes that see too much.
