Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 141676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 708(@200wpm)___ 567(@250wpm)___ 472(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 708(@200wpm)___ 567(@250wpm)___ 472(@300wpm)
Not while I’m staring at something that shouldn’t exist.
A ring from a man who’s hilariously out of my league. The one thing I never thought I’d get with a monster catch.
A fake fiancé.
A man who doesn’t want to marry me.
Of course, he shouldn’t. He doesn’t even know me.
Still.
Still, I can’t help feeling it bone-deep like a surprise sucker punch, knowing that the only ring I’ll ever get is just a whacky business transaction.
Not because I’m lovable.
Not because it means anything.
Not because I’m someone he’d ever date, much less marry.
“Dex,” I start, trying to figure out how to respond, but he presses a firm finger gently against my lips.
“I’m not done. Since your grandmother was on board with me lending some advice, I want you to know the offer stands. I’d be happy to look over the Sugar Bowl’s financials and business practices anytime.” He glances at my laptop. “I’m decent with numbers, if you need a hand.”
My face heats.
Oh, boy.
It feels too much like the cute boy in class offering homework help and suddenly I’m a mess of butterflies.
“You’d do that for me? My records are a crapfest, fair warning.” For the first time, I look back up at him and meet his gaze. It’s so unwavering I shiver. “You’d really take time out of your day to see if you can improve my business?”
“Sure. I’ve been doing this for a long time, analyzing cash flow from top to bottom. I don’t know much about baking, but I know a hell of a lot about business.”
“Shit.” I might cry.
That meltdown I’ve been putting off hits full force.
This whole thing keeps snowballing. I don’t know what to say or what to do. Now we’re fake engaged with a ring and he’s going to be my tutor. No doubt pinpointing all the dumb mistakes I’ve been making along the way.
I should be soaring, but there’s a weight in my chest that keeps me grounded.
“Shit,” I whisper again because I’ve run out of other words. What’s even the right response to this?
“Junie?” Dexter’s voice is soft, and when I look at him, there’s concern flashing in his eyes.
“It’s nothing. I’m fine,” I say automatically, wiping one eye.
“Ironing out money issues is what I do,” he tells me. “I don’t mind. It’s second nature.”
My lips twitch mockingly. “No, I’m not freaking out because you said you’d help me with the business, Dex. You… you got me a ring. I’m stuck on that.”
He frowns.
I wonder if he remembers how bitter I sounded at his house when I toasted the only engagement I’d ever have.
I hold out my hand for the box.
“Can I see it again?” I try to keep my voice light to avoid a total ugly cry meltdown. “I might as well have an idea what I’m getting into, right?”
“One second. Down you go, big boy.” He lifts Catness off his lap and stands while I look at him like he’s sprouted a second head. “If we’re going to do this, let’s do it properly.”
What’s he doing now?
Breaking me, apparently.
I’m dizzy when I realize what’s happening.
“Dexter Rory, don’t you dare.” I tremble.
A wild smile lights up his face for the first time. Even bolder and more mischievous than the throwback to Nana’s garden and the way he looked at me then in the golden light like I could actually be someone he’d love in another life.
The look that hurts.
Unrestrained.
Overflowing with humor and warmth that made my heart clench.
My heart has totally lost the game now. Sinking and cartwheeling and lurching in my chest.
Then he goes down on one knee in front me, holding the box like a sacred offering.
“Juniper Winkley,” he says, mock seriously. “You’ve been the best fake girlfriend a man could ever want.”
“Dex—”
“Don’t interrupt my proposal,” he growls.
I mime locking my lips shut and throwing away the key.
“As I was saying, you’ve been the best fake girlfriend a man could hope for. You haven’t gone back on our deal, you haven’t backed down, and you haven’t even found a hitman to haul my carcass down to the Ozarks and be done with my shit—though I know you’ve thought about it plenty.”
I bite my bottom lip, trying not to laugh.
“So, Sweet Stuff, fake lover and real partner, will you accept this ring? Will you save my balls from getting crushed like grapes one more time?” Without waiting for an answer, he grabs my hand and slides the ring on.
Holy, holy hell.
My entire existence starts spinning.
It’s all so unexpected, a jittery laugh bubbles out of me like champagne, light and airy, clearing space in my chest so I can breathe again.
I should just accept this twist of fate and have fun with it like he is.
How many women ever get to see an obscenely handsome man kneeling in front of them—and the ring really is pretty stunning.