Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 73225 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73225 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
As we near the main path, voices carry from the terrace. Nancy Sinclair, Charlotte’s mother, her grandmother. I spot Wade’s father too, which triggers an instant uptick in awareness. No sign of Wade himself, but the man’s name is stamped in the back of my mind. Always a threat.
Charlotte steps instinctively closer to me as we approach. I angle my body slightly, shielding her without thinking. When we hit the edge of the terrace, I slide an arm naturally around her waist and lean down, murmuring near her ear.
“Back in character,” I say softly. “You okay?”
She nods once. “Got it.”
We step onto the terrace, perfectly timed smiles in place. The matriarchs beam at us.
“There they are,” Margaret says brightly. “Such a sweet couple, always off adventuring.”
“Needed some fresh air,” Charlotte replies, voice even, though her fingers thread tightly through mine as we stand together. I squeeze gently. Reassurance. She holds on.
“Everyone’s heading to the beach this afternoon,” her grandmother chimes in. “We’ll see you two there?”
I glance at Charlotte, reading the subtle tension in her shoulders. I’ve seen her take enough deep breaths this week to know she could use a break—from all of them.
I lower my mouth to her ear again. “Say you have plans. Tell her we’re going into town. Magnolia Ridge.”
She blinks, then smiles sweetly at the group. “Actually, Asher thought we might explore town a bit. Magnolia Ridge, right?”
I meet her gaze, lips twitching. Good girl.
“Perfect idea,” I say, louder now, voice warm. “Wanted to show her the local spots.”
Nancy’s eyes narrow for a split second before smoothing out. “Well, you two enjoy yourselves.”
I nod, then gently place my hand on the small of Charlotte’s back, steering her down the wide stone steps toward the parking area. The moment we’re out of earshot from the others, I feel the shift in her body—the way her spine uncoils, shoulders dropping like she’s finally exhaled the breath she’s been holding.
“You planned that?” she asks, glancing up at me, her voice tinged with amusement and something a little like wonder.
I flash her a smirk. “Adapt and overcome.”
She lets out a soft laugh, the kind that sounds real—not for show, not for her family, not for the role we’re both pretending to play. Just… her. “You’re scary good at this.”
“Rugged and worldly,” I say, holding up an invisible badge of honor. “Try to keep up.”
She rolls her eyes, but there’s a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. That’s a win. I reach the truck first and pull open the passenger door for her. She pauses just slightly before climbing in, tossing me a mock-stern look.
“Don’t let it go to your head,” she says.
“Too late,” I mutter with a grin, closing the door behind her.
By the time I slide into the driver’s seat, she’s already buckling up, her fingers moving gracefully, hair cascading over one shoulder. There’s a light flush on her cheeks, like the weight of expectation has loosened its grip.
“I meant it,” I say, my voice quieter now, more serious as I start the engine. “Let’s take the day off. Just you and me. No prying eyes. No pretending.”
She turns toward me, meeting my gaze. There’s something unguarded in her eyes—still cautious, but softer now, more open. “I’d like that,” she says simply.
I nod, shifting the truck into gear. As we pull out onto the winding road away from the resort, every mile we put between us and the pressure of this fake engagement feels like a breath of fresh air. The trees blur past the windows, the hills of Magnolia Ridge rolling out ahead of us like a quiet promise.
Charlotte sits angled toward me, one leg tucked beneath her as she watches the world pass by. The sunlight spills across her skin through the window, highlighting the strands of gold in her hair, the curve of her cheek, the thoughtful set of her mouth.
I steal a glance at her when she’s not looking.
And God help me—I almost forget this is all fake.
She’s beautiful. But it’s more than that. She’s real. Smart. Sharp. The way she’s handled her family this week. It’s impressive. The kind of impressive that sneaks up on you and stays lodged in your chest long after it should’ve passed.
It’s dangerous.
We don’t talk much on the drive, but it’s not uncomfortable. It’s that kind of silence that settles between two people who are still figuring each other out, who’ve stopped trying to fill the space with noise just for the sake of it.
By the time we reach the small downtown stretch of Magnolia Ridge, the air has changed. The pressure is gone, replaced by something easy. Simple.
I park the truck near a row of charming storefronts—brick façades, painted signs, flower boxes beneath the windows. It’s the kind of town that looks like it belongs in a Christmas movie.