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Myles offers a crooked smile and closes his eyes. “Shhh, you’ll wake your parents. You don’t want them to think we’re sleeping together, do you?”

“Oh my gosh! Myles,” I groan and roll my eyes.

“I’m not moving. Take my bed.” He wiggles deeper under the covers, laying his head down, getting his scent all over my sheets, not to mention his wet hair soaking my pillow.

I nudge him through the blankets, but he doesn’t budge. “Goodnight, Pint Size.”

I growl under my breath, frustration itching under my skin as I sneer at him, shut off the lights and climb under the covers, letting my icy feet touch his legs.

He squeals, but not with delight. “What are you doing?” He bolts upward.

“Going to bed.” I poke him in the chest. “Go back to your room.” I yank the covers up around myself, lying on my side, barely having any space on the bed because he’s so damn tall and muscular that he steals most of the mattress.

“But your bed is so much warmer,” Myles whines and scoots closer to me, our bodies nestled together but his hands aren’t touching me.

Heat radiates off of him and onto me.

My feet are no longer chilly, the blanket and his skin having warmed me. “Myles, boundaries. This is my bedroom. So long as we’re fake dating, you sleep in the other room.”

“Wait, you want us to date for real?” he asks, leaning on his arms, sitting up to face me.

Nineteen

Myles

Three days, two nights in Montana. That’s what I have to survive if I want this to work between us. It’s just a couple of days with her family.

No big deal. I can do this.

The house is frigid at night, and not just the bedroom. Juniper makes it crystal clear that what we have is entirely fake, a reminder that stings. But she’s right.

Merry Christmas to me. Reality sucks; so does heartbreak.

Except how can my heart be broken when what we have isn’t even real?

She sneaks into my bedroom the next morning, wordlessly, like the sharp knife of regret didn’t just get lodged into my chest when she kicked me out.

“Morning,” I say sleepily, sitting up in bed, the covers and even a couple of pillows tossed onto the bed to warm me. Today, I’m going to ask to borrow her parents’ car and drive into town. I could use an electric blanket or a small heater for the bedroom. I’m not used to Montana winter. Two pairs of socks weren’t enough to keep my feet warm last night.

And since she wouldn’t let me share her body heat…

Juniper is already dressed in a sweatshirt and jeans. She looks nice and toasty. My eyes rake over her body, and her cheeks flush.

“Breakfast will be ready in ten.”

“Thanks,” I say and force a smile. It’s too easy, pretending to be dating her, sleeping under her family’s roof, acting like we’re a couple.

It feels natural, easy, like we’re meant to be together. “Come here,” I say and gesture for her to come toward the bed. “We should send a Christmas photo to my brother.”

She sits at the edge of the mattress, and I hold the camera lens out, pulling her closer, I snap a photo, and then a second one as I sneak a kiss to her cheek.

Her laughter bubbles out naturally and I snap one more photo of the two of us.

“You have bedhead,” she says and runs her fingers through my hair, fixing it.

Honestly, I don’t care. I glance at the photo on the phone, pleased with the last one most of all. “What do you think?” I ask, before sending it to Archer.

“It’s nice, but we could take one later, the two of us in front of the Christmas tree. My parents could take the photo,” she offers.