Page 39 of Fall Over You

I nod. “Okay. So, how much?”

“With your fifty and my fifty, it’s another fifty on top of that.”

That’s not a small number, but I’m getting no loan if I don’t make this deal work. Can I survive without the loan? Yes. But it makes the road to success longer and more difficult.

Tyler scratches the back of his head and stretches his neck, blowing a breath out of his lips. “I didn’t know I was going to need that much more than you. This is a big ask.”

I lift a shoulder. “We can work it out. You’re saving me on labor.”

He looks around one more time before he steps out onto the porch and goes down the stairs. He puts Ellie down in the grass, where my dog waits for her attention. “Go play with T-Bone.”

“Daddy, are you coming?” she asks as she skips away.

“I’ll watch you from here, shug.”

“Miss Becca?”

“I’ll watch too, hun.” We sit on the porch steps, me on the top one hugging my knees, and Tyler half facing me on the step below. He props up his knee and dangles his arm across it. I notice the strength in his hand as it hangs there.

I remember that hand rubbing my lower back that one night where something hung between us, the night he first got with CJ. I remember that hand later that night sprawled on my best friend’s hip, fingers digging in. These same dark eyes were on me. I suddenly have a tickle in my throat.

“So? What do you think?”

He presses his lips together and shakes his head. “I can’t believe I’m considering committing fraud.”

I snort. “There are certainly worse crimes to commit, Tyler.”

“Faking a marriage so we can get a bank loan isn’t bad?”

I shrug. “The marriage is going to be real, babe.”

“Right, but.” He points between us and looks exasperated. “This? Who’s going to believe it?”

“Everyone.”

“Why would they? Getting married after, what, three run-ins?” he cries.

“They don’t have to know it’s three run-ins. You’re my brother’s best friend. You’ve always been around. It’s not like we just met. We could have just finally woken up to what’s been brewing all along.”

He shakes his head. “I don’t think that’s enough.”

“Well, then we sell the hell out of it.”

He scowls. “How?”

“Make a big show at the Legion!”

Tyler lets out a cynical laugh. “I’m not going there.”

And this is the precise moment I remember how obnoxious his righteousness is. He acts like he’s never been a party animal, and to my knowledge, he’s never even set foot in the Legion. It’s more a place to hang out after dark than a den of debauchery. I lean in close and get to his eye level where he sits below me on the stairs. “Well, no one’s going to believe it if we hold hands on Main Street and share an ice cream cone at Betty’s Diner.”

“That’s exactly what they’ll believe,” he says. “And you can get your own damn ice cream.”

“Lovers share ice cream cones, Tyler. Everyone knows that. And plates of spaghetti and meatballs.”

“This isn’t Lady and the Tramp, and I don’t like to share. ”

“I’m well aware of that,” I snap. My tone is way more stern than I meant it to be, but his words sting. “I’m perfectly aware that you didn’t want to share when it counted.”