"Paige."
"Aiden." I cross my arms. "We're going to your dying mama's bedside pretending to be a couple. If you think I'm letting you sleep on a hotel floor while I take the bed, you don't know me at all."
He looks up from the papers. The sun's behind me, catching his eyes, turning that dark brown almost amber at the edges. I've never seen them do that before.
"I know you," he says. Low. Simple.
My arms uncross. My body makes that decision without consulting my brain.
"Lunch," I manage. "Eat."
We sit on his porch steps with the sandwiches. Same as before. Except now his knee touches mine and neither of us moves away from it. His thigh is warm through his jeans. Solid. I keep my eyes on my sandwich and try to eat like a normal person.
"We need a story," I say between bites. "For your family. How we met. How long we've been together."
"Truth works. You're a ranch hand. I'm the contractor. Leave out the part where you showed up uninvited with a thermos."
"That's the best part."
"That's the most annoying part."
"Same thing." I bump his shoulder. He lets me. His body lists toward mine a fraction. "What about timeline? How long have we been together?"
"Keep it simple. Few months."
"And when they ask if you're happy?"
He goes quiet. Looks out at the firs.
"I'll tell 'em the truth," he says.
The sandwich blurs. I blink hard, swallow, look at the trees.
We don't talk for a few minutes. Just eat. His hand finds mine between us on the step, threads his fingers through, holds on. Sawdust on his skin, rough against my palm. My thumb traces the scar across his knuckle from the fence wire.
"You called Delaney?" I ask.
"This morning. Told her I'm coming Thursday. Told her I'm bringing someone." He squeezes my hand. "She wasn't pleased."
"I bet."
"She wanted to know how long."
"What'd you tell her?"
"That it was none of her business." His mouth does something that's close to a grin. "She hung up on me."
"Delaney Harrison hung up on you?"
"First time in twelve years she's had anything to hang up on."
I laugh. He watches me laugh with that look. The door-in-the-wall look.
"Paige."
"Hm?"
"Come inside."
