Page 4 of His Fake Fiancé

And then, out of nowhere, she tore herself out of his grip and stepped back.

His mind and body protested, aching to pull her back into his arms. Which was dumb, because this was Claire and he didn’t feel that sort of stuff with Claire. She was his best friend. They’d known each other forever, the product of growing up on neighboring cattle ranches. What the fuck had he been thinking?

Claire stood there, the breath heaving in and out of her chest—which he was not looking at—her lips pink and swollen. Her eyes had a glazed look to them. He was sure the surprised look on her face mirrored his own.

She ran her tongue over her lower lip. A jolt of something hot raced through him. She might as well have traced her tongue along his skin. He fought the urge to say to hell with it and reach out and grab her, kiss her again. See if it affected him the same way the second time around.

What the hell was wrong with him?

Claire must have read his mind, because she shook her head. It was slight, barely imperceptible, but he was so attuned to her for some reason, he saw it anyway.

“I’m going to go,” she said, her voice all breathy and low.

He opened his mouth to say… something—at this point, he wasn’t sure what—but she spun around and made a beeline for the table where her brother stood.

Jake took a step toward her retreating form, but caught sight of Linc over her head. He was staring daggers at Jake. Jake could see his scowl from all the way over here. With a sigh, Jake turned back to the bar and his forgotten beers.

Normally, he wouldn’t give a shit what Linc McKinney thought. But, tonight had been weird enough. He didn’t want to make a scene. Besides, he really needed to figure out what the fuck just happened.

Chapter 2

Claire made a beeline for Linc’s table. She kept her gaze on her brother, didn’t look around, even though she was positive everyone in the bar was staring at her. Because she’d just made an absolute fool of herself.

What had she been thinking, tossing herself at Jake like that? She knew everyone already considered her pathetic, waiting around for him, hanging on his every word. Not that anyone ever said anything. But they didn’t have to. It wasn’t like she didn’t know how deeply her pathetic-ness ran. Which just made her a pathetic idiot.

Her eyes burned, but she blinked hard a couple of times. She was not crying, not here, not now. And not over Jake Callahan. Never again.

She caught Linc’s gaze. He’d been just about to take a sip of his beer, but stopped and clonked the bottle back on the table. Anger flared hot in his blue eyes, and he glanced over her shoulder.

She wanted so badly to turn and look at Jake, for so many different reasons. Mostly to make sure he was real. Because that kiss had been the kind from her deepest, darkest fantasies. Her lips still tingled… and nope, she wasn’t thinking about it right now.

“Hey, Chicken,” Linc said, looking back at her. “Everything okay?”

“Can you give me a ride home?” She stopped on the opposite side of the table from him, squeezing in between a couple of his friends. She didn’t look at them, didn’t care about them. Her cheeks burned, nevertheless.

Linc’s gaze skipped back to her. “What about Jake?”

“He’s a big boy. I’m sure he’ll be able to find his own way home.”

Linc glanced back at Jake for a second, and Claire was pretty sure that if looks could kill, Jake Callahan would be well on his way to six feet under. If he wasn’t already a pile of ash next to the bar.

“Come on,” she said, hating the way her voice trembled. “Let’s go.”

Linc nodded, said goodbye to his friends, and then ushered her toward the exit. She didn’t look around, kept her gaze locked on the door. With every step, her heart thudded harder against her ribs until it smacked hard enough to leave a bruise.

She burst through the door into the parking lot, gulping in the fresh February air. It was fifty degrees out, but it felt icy against her burning cheeks.

“This way.” Linc nudged her in the direction of his truck. It was nestled between two other pickups—the vehicle of choice out here in cattle country—near the back corner of the lot.

They walked in silence, the only sounds the thump of the baseline inside the bar and the crunch of gravel under their feet. She slipped between Linc’s truck and the one parked a little too close next to it. She probably could have waited until he pulled out first, but honestly, she just wanted to go home. It took a bit of maneuvering, but she managed to get in without dinging anyone’s doors.

Pulling the seatbelt on, she could feel Linc’s gaze on her, but she didn’t look over at him. She didn’t want to talk, to explain what the hell was happening, because honestly, she had no idea how to put any of it into words.

The tension in the truck grew until her skin itched, but she held firm. Linc finally fired up the engine and pulled out of the lot. Claire stared out the window, the lights of the city whizzing by. Not that she was paying attention. Her brain kept replaying the kiss with Jake. Over and over and over again.

To say he’d surprised her would be so far an understatement, you’d need a backhoe to dig it up. She’d gone to see what was taking so long. And maybe tell him this whole fake engagement thing wasn’t going to work. Of course, he’d been flirting with the new bartender.

Okay, so maybe it hadn’t quite been flirting. He was so damned charismatic, people flocked to him. Especially those of the female persuasion. That probably also had something to do with the fact that he was gorgeous.