“Fine. We fake it.”
Her whole face lights.
I hold up a finger. “But. There are rules.”
Her smile turns sly. “Ooo. Bossy fiancé.”
“Rule one,” I say, ignoring that. “No touching.”
She snorts. “That’ll make it believable.”
“We can hug,” I allow, jaw tight. “In public. Quick. Like normal people.”
Her eyes sparkle. “I do nothing quick.”
“I noticed,” I say, voice dipping.
Her pupils flare.
Shit.
“Rule two,” I say roughly. “No kissing.”
She actually pouts. “What if the town demands it?”
“This town demanded a kissing booth for the Fourth of July parade,” I say. “They can live without.”
She grins. “You jealous?”
I glare. “Rule three. No trouble.”
She laughs. “Clay. Sweetheart. Baby. Mountain caveman. That’s not a realistic rule for me.”
“It’s the only way I’m doing this.”
She considers. “Define trouble.”
“No press you don’t clear with me. No social posts without telling me. No dragging me to weird events where everybody’s drunk and asking when we’re having babies.”
She blinks. “So…you’re saying Icandrag you to events. Just not weird ones.”
I rub my temples. “You’re gonna do whatever you want anyway.”
“Correct.”
We stare at each other. She’s winning and she knows it.
I let out a long breath through my nose. “I’ll tell the guys at the station we’re…seeing each other.”
Her lips twitch. “And I’ll tell Tina we’re doing an interview.”
I narrow my eyes. “No.”
“Clay.”
“No interviews.”
“But the town–and the insurance guy–will believe it more?—”
