“She’s not dying. I hope. I mean . . . she’s sick right now, but the doctors are optimistic and she’s too ornery to go down without a fight.”
“So we pretend for a while and then call it off. Say it didn’t work out.”
Rory rolls her eyes. She turns and walks away, as far as she can in this little room, and then turns back. “We barely know each other. No one’s going to believe we’re engaged.”
Okay, my knee is starting to ache. I rise and gesture toward the outside world. “Everyone out there knows you’ve got me hook, line, and sinker. And they just watched you accept my proposal. Hell yeah, they’re going to believe it. They’ll think I finally wore you down.”
She lets out a weak laugh. “So what, I’ll wear the ring? You’ll come meet my grandma? Then what?”
I stretch my arms out. “Ball’s in your court, my queen.”
Silence falls between us. I lift the ring.
Her arms drop to her sides. “Fine, okay.”
“That’s exactly the words I’ve always wanted to hear when I proposed to the woman of my dreams,” I tease. “Give me your hand.”
Rory holds out her left hand and turns her head away, but I see her watching out of the corner of her eye.
I slide my fingers on her hand, the tips trailing over her palm. Her nails are short and rounded, trim and pretty. I line the ring up to her finger and take a deep breath.
A moment of doubt creeps in. What am I doing? Rory just said that we barely know each other and I’m about to trust her with an expensive family heirloom. She could sell it or lose it or . . .
Fuck. I can’t sell the ring as long as we’re pretending to be engaged. Shit, shit, shit.
I look up at Rory and she’s facing me now, watching me, her eyes dark and serious.
I slide the ring on.
It fits perfectly, and we both let out a breath.
I pull my hands away and wipe the perspiration off on my jeans. Who knew a fake engagement could make me break out into a sweat like this?
Rory stares at the ring. “I guess we have to go back out there?”
“Yeah. Oh, but hang on.”
I start to unbutton my shirt.
“What are you doing?” she hisses.
“Hang on.” I get about halfway down and then rebutton, purposefully missing a hole. I run my hands through my hair, grabbing fistfuls of it and tugging. Then I peer at Rory.
“Your hair is already pretty wild. How about I just take some of this?—”
I lean forward and tilt her chin up. Carefully, I swipe my thumb over her lips, smearing the edge. It’s only about halfway through that I realize how much I’ve invaded her personal space. Our toes are almost touching, and I’m standing close enough that I can make out the dark brown ring around her blown-out pupils.
She presses her lips firmly together and glances away.
Right.
I take my thumb and swipe it over my own lips, attempting to smear some lipstick around. She may not be ready for me to kiss her, but at least we’ll look freshly fucked.
Rory’s watching me again.
I reach down and grab her left hand in my right, twining our fingers together. “You ready for this?” I ask, one hand on the doorknob.
“You’re a menace.”
