“Yes. I see it now. You want the illusion, not the real thing. You want to play husband but notbeone.”
His stare goes flint. “This was your idea.”
“Because Ihadto. Because my life was on fire. Because I needed the money and the town was watching and you were the one they handed me.”
“You’re welcome.”
“You’re acoward.”
Silence slams down between us. Thick. Sharp.
His eyes go cold.
“Say that again,” he says, voice low.
“Coward,” I bite out, chest heaving. “You can run into burning buildings, but God forbid you feel something.”
He moves.
Fast.
Grabs my wrist, not hard, just firm enough to stop me pacing circles around him. Pulls me in until my body brushes his. His jaw is tight, eyes furious, mouth inches from mine.
“You don’t know a damn thing about what I feel,” he grinds.
“I know you kissed me like you almost let go.”
He doesn’t deny it.
He just looks angry that I saw it.
“That’s not what this is,” he says.
“Whatisthis, then?”
“A favor.”
“We’re way past favors.”
“A cover, then.”
“For who?” I shove his chest, heat rising. “Me? Or you?”
His nostrils flare.
I keep going, reckless. “Because I’m starting to think this whole ‘let’s pretend to be engaged’ thing is as much for you as it is for me.”
“How do you figure?”
“You get to do the whole hero thing—fix me, protect me, play house—without risking anything. Without letting me in.”
“Ember—”
“No.” I jab a finger at his chest. “You like me, Clay. Youwantme. Youwantto kiss me again. You want—” heat creeps up my neck “—youwantme. But instead of admitting it, you’re hiding behind town gossip and insurance forms.”
His jaw is clenched so hard now I can see it jump.
“I told you from the start,” he says, voice rough, “this wasn’t real.”
