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Maggie grinned. It couldn’t be all bad. Even if she didn’t want to date any of the guys Cal would come up with. Not that she thought he would pick someone awful. Cal’s friends were all similarly good-looking, but she wasn’t sure about starting an actual relationship with someone if she was using the experience for research. It seemed dishonest.
Maggie didn’t like to lie. The thought of pretending to like one of Cal’s friends, just to get ahead with her writing, seemed mercenary. Cal promised his friends wouldn’t care—spending time with a good-looking girl was reward enough—but what if the guy she picked was looking for more? Maggie was irrevocably in love with someone else. She didn’t want to hurt anyone, and she really didn’t want to tie herself to awkward dates. And the dateswouldbe awkward if the guys thought she was interested and then found out she wasn’t. What if she was honest from the start? Would any of Cal’s friends be willing to pretend to date her?
Romance novels had always been a comfort. Maggie had picked up her first one at twelve. She’d borrowed it from her nana and been simultaneously scandalized and obsessed enough to forget to return it. She loved the romance, the tension, the heat, but most of all, Maggie loved the happily ever afters. Maggie read romance novels for the same reason she preferred to rewatch her favorite television shows and movies: she already knew how they were going to end. A guaranteed happy ending went a long way toward putting her at ease. There was no reason to worry about what was happening, even when the author ripped her guts apart, because she knew things would work out in the end. Some readers might not like the familiarity, searching for something new and different to hold their attention, but Maggie thrived on these common moments. It was refreshing to have one part of her life where things worked out the way they were supposed to.
Fake dating was common in romance novels. Usually it involved two parties signing on to a mutually beneficial pretend relationship and ended with them realizing they wanted more than just pretend romance. Maggie couldn’t think of a single book she’d read where the fake dating trope didn’t unearth feelings on both sides. Maybe she was looking at this all wrong. She’d live out a famous trope, have time to go on some romantic dates, and she could take some fantastic notes. No one could say her novel wasn’t believable if she wrote what she lived. And if her fake date, she already knew who she could ask, recognized he had feelings for her? Even better.
“Why?” Mac’s voice cut through her daydream and it took Maggie a minute to remind herself what he was asking. “Why do you need to be set up? You don’t date.”
Like being doused by a bucket of cold water, the doubt seeped into Maggie’s bones. Fantasy wasn’t real life. Romance novels weren’t real life. Using a trope to jumpstart her own love life and then her book was a stupid idea. It was the idea of Mac, supportive, watchful Mac, pointing it out that made her chest ache.
“It’s nothing,” Maggie said, at the same time Audrey said, “Maggie’s going to get a boyfriend so she can do some research on chemistry and dating for her book revision.”
Mac sucked his teeth. “Do you think that will work?”
“Yes,” Maggie answered, steeling her spine so she’d sound confident and certain, despite feeling anything but. “I obviously don’t know enough about love and relationships to write believable ones, so I need to get some experience first.”
“You’re sure?” He asked, dark eyes searching her face.
Maggie nodded.
“Then don’t let Cal set you up.” Mac was still leaning against the door, but the way he watched her made it seem like he was standing directly in front of her. As if he were close enough to touch. Heat curled under her belly button even as her muscles felt loose and weak. It was a good thing she was still sitting down, or she may have needed some help to stay upright. Mac and his muscles could probably hold her up with his pinky finger.
“Hey.” Cal said, “I know some great guys for Maggie.”
“Pick someone you want,” Mac said to Maggie, ignoring his brother. “You want to write about true feelings? Then pick someone who you want and who wants you.” Then Mac disappeared into the kitchen and Maggie heard the slam of the back door. He’d gone out to the garage to work on a blade.
“How does he forge in those sweaters?” Maggie asked no one in particular. “They have to be a fire hazard.”
“He takes them off,” Cal said, and stole a cracker from the spread.
Maggie coughed as a flush of heat swept up her throat to her cheeks.
“Mac’s right. Pick someone you’re interested in, but I know some good guys who would be both interested and fun. Let me know if you want any introductions.”
“Thanks, Cal,” Maggie said, and another vision of Dean scrolled through her mind.
“Shoo.” Audrey flapped her hands at her boyfriend. “We’re having wine and cheese night. Go bother Mac or play Halo and I’ll come find you when we’re done.”
Cal pressed another kiss to Audrey’s mouth, waved to Maggie, and disappeared up the stairs to his and Audrey’s room. Audrey studied her for a moment. Maggie tried to school her expression into a neutral mask, wanting to give nothing away.
“You could ask—” Audrey bit her lip and turned away.
“Ask who?” Maggie frowned around a mouthful of brie.
“Never mind,” Audrey waved the question off and pressed start. “Ask anyone you want, Maggie. I promise no one will judge your choice.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Anhourlater,showfinished and dishes stacked in the dishwasher, Maggie said goodbye to Audrey and headed for her car. Her ancient two-door Civic could only be considered a car by the most basic of definitions. The air conditioner didn’t work at all, the heater only worked occasionally, and duct tape held at least one mirror in place. But the old girl hadn’t let her down once since Maggie had inherited it from her nana at sixteen.
Instead of driving home, Maggie took the less familiar roads to the snazzy apartments in the center of downtown. It was easy to pretend that she didn’t know why she’d driven here, but the minute Audrey’s idea had taken root in her mind, there was only one man that really fit what Maggie was looking for. Dean’s face had flashed across her brain and scalded itself across the back of her retinas.
She’d spent years dreaming of him in place of her heroes. Hell, she’d written him into her book. Real life wasn’t written by Tessa Bailey or Emily Henry, but Maggie could sure as hell write her own life, thank you.
Maggie put the car in park and shoved her keys into her giant messenger bag. Her car door echoed through the parking lot when she slammed it shut, and she winced. This wasn’t abnormal. She’d been here to see Dean before, usually with Audrey, but still. There was no reason to be nervous and no reason to sneak. She buzzed his apartment and in true Dean fashion, he let her in without even asking who she was.
Dean’s eyes went wide when he opened his door and saw her standing there, but his smile didn’t slip, and he waved her inside his apartment.
