Total pages in book: 143
Estimated words: 138881 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 694(@200wpm)___ 556(@250wpm)___ 463(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138881 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 694(@200wpm)___ 556(@250wpm)___ 463(@300wpm)
Sweetheart.
That day.
His eyes.
All the hearts and flutters.
This man is utterly convincing.
I’m so sold. “You did. You really saved the day, then. You’ve been doing that ever since,” I say, flashing a doe-eyed grin at him.
“I’d do anything for you,” he says, lifting a hand to dotingly stroke my jaw.
Impulsively, I inch closer.
A second later, maybe less, I gasp when Corbin drops his mouth to mine and kisses me in front of them. He’s sweet and tender, gently cupping my jawline in front of my nemesis and his two young friends. Declaring me his with a kiss that makes my stomach flip and my pulse skitter.
When he lets go, I’m swimming in endorphins. Corbin has the most sheepish look on his face. “So hard to resist,” he says to me, but maybe it’s for them.
I’m still woozy from that knee-weakening kiss when he turns back to Ronnie. “My girlfriend and I have been planning this bakery for some time. In fact,” he says, laughing a little, “I couldn’t really stop from kissing her in your trailer too, Ronnie. I hope you don’t mind. That’s why it took us a little while to get back out there. But you understand, don’t you? Man to man?”
Ronnie chuckles and says, “Right you are.”
Well, two can play at this fake-dating one-upmanship. I grab the ties of Corbin’s apron, and I tug him close to me again, taking another kiss.
A hot, prelude-type of kiss. One that has me wanting them all to go away so he can Dirty Dog me.
When we break it, Tiffany and Brittany clap and cheer, then spin to face each other.
“I totally know what we should do,” Tiffany says to Brittany.
The brunette grabs the redhead’s hands, and they nod as if they can read each other’s minds. Maybe they can.
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Brittany asks her friend.
“I’m totally thinking the same thing you’re thinking,” Tiffany confirms.
They turn to me, and Brittany declares brightly, “We should all do a pickleball date.”
“We’re both in a league, and we’re the doubles champions,” Tiffany adds. “It would be so fun to play with our queen.”
Doubles champions? No fucking way.
I’m about to say thanks, but no thanks, when Corbin plants a kiss on my cheek. “My girlfriend and I would love to join you.”
Are you kidding me? He just signed me up for a fake date with a couple of pickleball champions?
I’m so screwed.
Once they’re gone and the door is locked, I advance toward Corbin. He stands proudly in front of the display case, looking pleased with his fake-dating pronouncement.
I’m more conflicted, half turned on and half annoyed. I point at him. “What were you thinking?”
He holds his hands out wide, his brow furrowed. “You’re mad at me?”
“What gave it away?”
He drags his hands through his hair. “Why are you pissed? You went along with that fake-dating thing.”
“Ronnie’s kind of powerful,” I fire back. “He’s a celebrity chef, and he came to our bakery. I want him to say nice things, if he says anything at all.”
“Right. And my point is, you played along when I said you were my girlfriend. It didn’t seem like you had a problem with that.”
I blow out a harsh breath. “That’s not what I’m mad at. I’ll be thrilled if they talk about our bakery. Going along with it made sense.” I poke the bib of his ALL THIS AND I CAN BAKE apron. “I’m pissed you signed me up to play pickleball with two pickleball champions. Why did you do that?”
He grits his teeth, blows out a breath. “Same reason I said we were together.”
“And what’s that reason?” Seriously, I’m dying to know.
He heaves a frustrated sigh. Huffs out through his nostrils. “When they started that whole ridiculous bit that you were sad, it set me off. I needed them to know that this bakery isn’t about Romance Beach. This bakery isn’t about the wildly inaccurate things your ex said on TV. This bakery isn’t about you being upset. They’re wrong, and they needed to know it, and I showed them the only way that I could at that moment.”
Oh. I’m definitely more turned on than annoyed now. “What is this bakery about?”
He steps closer to me, inches away, so close I can catch the last remaining notes of his lake-and-campfire scent. “It’s about your dream. It’s about my dream. We started it,” he says, like he’s making a speech. No, a declaration. “And fuck anyone else who tries to tell our story.”
The frustration I felt earlier? It’s gone. The frustration over having to play pickleball champions? Who even cares?
“What’s our story?” I ask, anger now stripped from my tone. Only curiosity is left.
He swallows roughly. “It’s you challenging me to do something that I’ve wanted to do for years. Something I’ve been fucking afraid of doing. Something I’ve been putting off, thinking that I needed to wait. It’s you making me realize that there’s no time like the present.” He pauses, takes a soldiering breath. “It’s you finally getting to chase your dreams. And it’s us taking a chance together. So when they said all that, I felt fucking protective of you, okay?”