Page 94 of Fake it for Keeps

“Yes. We’re colleagues, essentially. We have a contract that expires in July. Getting physical just complicates things.” He leaned against the counter, arms crossed. “So from here on out, we keep it professional. Play the part in public, maintain distance in private.”

I stared at him, a thousand thoughts racing through my head. He was doing the right thing, surprisingly enough, but my revenge plan required a lot less distance in private. And a lot less distance between our privates, come to think of it.

“Who are you and what have you done with my fiancé?” I asked, trying to keep my tone light.

He smirked in that perfectly cocky expression that made me feel flushed. Made my toes want to curl despite everything.

“I’m the same person. I just got some perspective.” Colt shrugged.

“Good. Okay. Perspective is good.” I wasn’t sure if that was true, but I was just playing along, trying to act like he hadn’t just shocked me by turning down sex.

“I figure it’s better to keep things clean now than deal with messy feelings later.”

Messy feelings. Right. Maybe my plan had been working better than I thought. “Okay,” I said, turning back to the stove. “Professional it is.”

“Okay?”

“What did you want me to say? Beg you to reconsider?” I stirred the sauce. “It’s very easy to keep things plain and simple.”

Nothing about this felt plain or simple. I felt like a fool for coming here. For cooking dinner. For thinking that playing the doting fiancée would somehow make him fall for me.

And the worst part? I wasn’t even that upset about the plan failing.

I was upset because I wanted him to want me. Not for show. Not for the cameras. Not as a “perk” of the arrangement.

Just me. For me.

When had that happened?

We ate at his dining table, and despite the tension, the food was good. The conversation flowed decently, as long as we stayed focused on safer topics.

He told me about his mother, who’d died of breast cancer when he was in his early twenties. How Frankie had been devastated but somehow held herself together enough to hold him together too.

“She’s always been stronger than me,” he said. “Even when she was falling apart, she was making sure I was okay. That Dad was okay. She organized everything for the funeral, dealt with the lawyers, handled all the details I couldn’t face.”

“She did the same thing when your dad died?”

He nodded. “I don’t know what I’d do without her. She’s my best friend.”

The love in his voice was heartwarming. Clearly, Colt was more capable of affection than he let on.

“I hope I can be that for her someday,” he continued. “Hope I can support her the way she’s supported me. When she needs it.”

“You will,” I said with certainty. “You already do. The way you two work together, the way you trust her—that means something. I think Frankie appreciates how much you trust her. You’re not trying to micromanage her.”

He smiled, and it was genuine. I loved that I was getting to see parts of him I’d never seen before. The brother who adored his sister. The son who missed his parents. The man who felt deeply even when he pretended not to.

Maybe Frankie had been right. Maybe he was a good man underneath all the armor. Maybe the world just didn’t get to see it.

And maybe my plan to break his heart had been wicked and cruel from the start.

The thought made me set down my fork. “Colt,” I said quietly. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

I opened my mouth to ask if he remembered me from high school. If he remembered asking me to meet him at the beach. If he had any idea who I really was and why I’d signed this contract in the first place.

But the words stuck in my throat. Because what would it accomplish? Would it make him feel guilty? Would it explain why I’d been so guarded? Would it change anything?