His mouth thins even further, almost disappearing beneath his beard. “Young love?”
“I didn’t use those words.”
Obviously, my mom ran with the little I did say. My horror at having two of her friends turn up and blurt all that in front of Reed will never be matched. Put it down in the history books, folks.
“What words did you use?”
“Reed makes me happy.”
Turn the truth serum off. I can’t tell him that.
“I know I should have corrected them,” I say instead. “I’ll do it tonight. I’ll explain it was all a misunderstanding. I’ll tell them in crystal clear terms that you and I aren’t dating. That it was just a mistake, and I’m totally happy being alone. Problem solved.”
He doesn’t look like he’s comforted by my great plan. “I just told two of my brothers, my niece, and half the town that I’m your boyfriend.”
“Oh. Right. Yes. You did do that.”
No need to discuss the frisson of delight that burst through me when he said those words in front of everyone. Or, honestly, when he repeated them just now. “I’m your boyfriend” simply sounds good coming out of his mouth no matter the circumstances.
Not really a great time to point it out.
I look up and down Maple Street as if I’m going to magicallyfind inspiration on how to resolve this. Most of the shops are closed, but some of the windows give off a golden glow. The ramen restaurant down the street is bustling. Music thrums from a bar around the corner. A few people stroll the sidewalks in twos and threes, enjoying the last of the warm June day. I bet none of them are contemplating how to get out of a pretend boyfriend mess of their own making right now.
Lucky.
“We could break up.” If we’re not going to admit this was a mistake, ending it is the only logical solution. “We’ll say tonight was too much for you. You couldn’t handle the attention, and you broke things off.”
I cringe involuntarily even suggesting it. I’m trying to avoid more break-ups, not add fresh embarrassment to my collection. No matter how imaginary, the failure would be real to my parents. And to everyone else in town.
“No.”
“No? I could be the bad guy, I guess.” I don’t have experience with dumping men, but I could come up with something. “We could say I broke up with you because it’s too weird dating my boss.”
“No.”
“I want to have kids, and you don’t?”
“No.”
“I have a previously undiagnosed flannel allergy?”
This time, his mouth tugs ever so slightly at the corners. “No. I mean, we don’t break up.”
“We don’t…what?” Of all the confusing things I’ve heard tonight, that might make the least sense.
He leans against the rear of his Bronco, bringing his gaze level with mine. “We don’t break up. Ending things now will just lead to more questions.”
“Not breaking up will probably lead to questions, too.”
Like, why is my heart fluttering in my chest this way? And is Reed Bridger actually offering to be my fake boyfriend? Also, inwhat universe should standing beneath a streetlight make someone more attractive? That’s wildly unfair.
“Probably. But it will be less drama. You want your parents off your back. I want Lucy to stop trying to set me up. So we let it ride for a while.”
Let it ride. That’s an awfully casual way of saying we should pretend we’re in a relationship. How does something like that even work?
I lean closer and drop my voice in case any of Sunshine’s most dedicated gossips happen to be lurking around. “You want to stay my fake boyfriend?”
“Yes.” His casual mask slips for a second, revealing a glimpse of uncertainty. “Unless you don’t want that. We can do the breakup thing if you’re more comfortable with it.”
