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His hand continued to run up and down her back. She didn’t say anything for several moments, just took in this feeling of Jace’s arms wrapped around her. This had happened once in high school. She’d been in tears after a fight with Katrina. Her sister had become so hypercritical and dismissive that year. Jace had come over to her house and held her like this, and when the two finally lifted their heads, he kissed the tears from her cheeks and then kissed her lips.

Now he lifted his head, and she lifted hers as well, wondering if the same memory swirled through his mind.

His eyes met hers and locked on them. He smiled, a warm smile, then he picked up a pencil and handed it to her. “I want you to write down everything you didn’t understand in class, and we’ll look online to figure out what it means.”

Okay. That’s where his mind was. And that’s where hers should be too, not probing around the past, dredging up memories that would only make her sad that he’d stopped caring for her in that way. He wanted to help her with her schoolwork. He was being a friend. That should be enough.

She pulled out her homework worksheet and the other information the teacher handed out. She expected Jace to only spend a few minutes helping her. After that, he too would see she was hopeless and make an excuse to go home.

But he didn’t. Jace sat beside her and plodded through the homework, pausing to look up every term and walk her through what they meant. Somehow, learning about SWOT analysis with Jace next to her, speaking in his low calming voice, wasn’t as intimidating. She actually felt like she was making progress instead of drowning in a sea of acronyms. And she couldn’t help but notice his cologne. It was different than what he wore in high school. He’d likely moved on from the drugstore variety and was wearing something expensive. Maybe something Jennifer had given to him.

The woman didn’t deserve him. Back when Marlowe and Jace dated, she’d planned to go to whatever college he chose just to be with him. She’d been willing to make sacrifices so that the two of them could be together.

Jace got to her last question. “What are two advantages you bring to your field that your competitors don’t have?”

Probably not a lot. It was hairstyling, not patents. She didn’t have a secret method or anything. “Um, I can usually tell what hairstyles will look good on people, based on their face shapes.” She started to write it and hesitated. “I’m not sure there’s a way to leverage that into a competitive advantage, though, because half the time people don’t listen to their hairstylists about those sorts of things.”

“Write it anyway. What’s another one?”

She tapped her pencil against her lip. “Is it a sign that my salon is doomed if I can’t think of another competitive advantage?”

“No, it just means you need to give it more thought. Ask Delancey what she thinks. Sometimes it’s easier for other people to see your strengths.”

He shut the laptop and smiled at her in satisfaction. “First homework assignment is in the bag. See, that wasn’t really so hard.”

Well, it hadn’t been because he’d helped her. But she couldn’t expect that again. She gave him a smile of relief, of gratitude. “Thank you. You’re definitely the best fake boyfriend I’ve ever had.”

He glanced down the hallway that went to her grandmother’s bedroom and whispered, “Don’t say fake out loud. Remember, when we’re together, it’s real. Especially if people might be eavesdropping.”

Her grandmother had no doubt taken out her hearing aids by now. Even if she hadn’t, Marlowe doubted she would’ve kept listening to their conversation when they’d just spent the last hour going over business plans and startup costs.

“Sorry,” Marlowe mouthed. A little louder, she said, “You’re the best real boyfriend.”

He rolled his eyes. “Not actually better.”

She held up a hand. “Wait, third time’s a charm.” Even louder, she said, “What I meant was you’re really the best boyfriend.”

“Thanks.”

Sitting there, looking at his gorgeous face and crooked smirk, she felt like she was a teenager again. She felt like she was in love. Marlowe’s impulsiveness was getting worse because without considering whether it was a good idea—and clearly it wasn’t—she leaned forward and dropped a quick kiss on Jace’s lips.

She hoped he would grin at her, slip his hand behind her neck and draw her to him for a longer kiss. Instead, his eyes fluttered in surprise. He swallowed uncomfortably and shifted farther back in his seat.

She blinked innocently. “You said you wanted realism.”

“Right.” He stared at her for a moment, and she waited for what he’d say next. Another moment went by.

Say something romantic, Marlowe thought, or better yet, lean over and kiss me. She willed it to happen.

Jace checked his watch and sighed. “It’s late. I guess I should be going.” He stood and went to the table to retrieve the things he’d brought. “Tell your grandmother I’ll come over to pull weeds soon.”

Marlowe’s cheeks heated in regret. “Okay,” she said with false brightness. She didn’t know what else to say. She’d played the kiss like she’d just been teasing him, giving him a bad time because he’d insisted on realism. She should have pretended it was a friendship kiss, a thank you for his help. Or better yet, she shouldn’t have kissed him at all.

Way to wear your heart on your sleeve, Marlowe. Just make it awkward for everyone.

“Thanks for your help,” she said again.

He walked toward the door, and she followed after him, the polite hostess saying goodnight.