Chapter 204

Chapter 204
Aya’s POV

To say that I was embarrassed was the understatement of the century. My face was still burning from the kitchen ambush when lunch rolled around, and of course, fate decided to make things worse.
There I was at the long ranch table, plates of brisket, coleslaw, cornbread, and enough BBQ sauce to drown an army. Lara and Mrs. Lisbon were all smiles, throwing me these knowing looks like we were in some cheesy soap opera. Nathaniel sat right across from me, eating his food like he hadn’t just kissed me senseless an hour ago. The nerve of this man.
“So, Aya,” Mrs. Lisbon started innocently—too innocently. “Did Nathaniel ever tell you about the time he had a crush on his schoolteacher?”
I choked on my sweet tea. “Excuse me?”
Nathaniel froze mid-bite, fork in the air, giving his mother a look that said traitor.
Lara leaned in with that grin that was basically my social death sentence. “Oh, come on, Mom, tell it! It was Mrs. Davidson, right? Third grade? He used to bring her flowers from the backyard.”
My eyes widened. I snapped my head to Nathaniel, whose ears had turned suspiciously pink. Pink. This smug bastard had the audacity to look humanly embarrassed.
“Oh my god,” I burst out laughing, clapping my hand over my mouth. “You? The cocky firefighter heartthrob? Crushing on a teacher?”
“It was just a crush,” Nathaniel said stiffly, glaring at his sister. “Nothing serious.” Then, of course, because the universe hates me, he turned those molten eyes directly on me and added—so casually it made my spine snap straight—

“Nothing compared to when I kissed you earlier.”

WTF.
He. Did. Not.
My fork clattered against my plate. I nearly faceplanted into the cornbread. The entire table went silent for two seconds,and then Lara’s wine glass nearly tipped over because she was laughing so hard.
“WELL,” I sputtered, waving my hands like a crazy person. “That—that’s not—don’t listen to him, he’s delusional. Heatstroke from the Texas sun! Hallucinating! Happens all the time to men with big egos!”
Mrs. Lisbon just smirked into her napkin, clearly enjoying every second of my mortification. The cousins were grinning like they’d just been handed front row tickets to a rom-com premiere. And Nathaniel?

He just leaned back in his chair, took a slow sip of iced tea, and raised a brow at me. Smug. As. Hell.
To make it worse, Lara added, “Oh, Aya, did he also tell you about the snake in the science room back in middle school? He screamed so loud they had to evacuate two classrooms.”
I lost it. Completely. I burst out laughing.
Nathaniel muttered, “I hate all of you,” and shot me a look across the table.
And me? I was already laughing so hard, I couldn’t even breathe. But the second I caught him watching me, lips twitching like he was fighting back a smile, something twisted inside my chest.
Because I realized, to my horror, that I liked this chaos.
I liked him embarrassing me. I liked teasing him back. I liked… us.
Oh no. I was in trouble.


Aya’s POV

The next day was pure hell.
I should’ve known it was coming. Things had been… dangerously normal since the snake-kiss fiasco, and fate clearly decided to balance it out by throwing a brunette-shaped bomb into my peaceful little Texas BBQ bubble.
It was late afternoon, golden light spilling across the ranch fields, laughter ringing in the air. Nathaniel and Roland (a.k.a. the brother-in-law Texas ranger, a.k.a. the man who took rodeo way too seriously) were in the middle of some ridiculous horse race, shirtless and yelling like twelve-year-olds. Everyone was drinking sweet tea and beer, kids running around, music blasting, the smell of BBQ thick in the air.

I was just… existing. In my cute but very normal sundress. Looking like a respectable lady chef.

And then she appeared.

Tall. Brunette. Boots, denim shorts, a leather belt with a buckle so shiny it probably blinded people on the highway. Her plaid shirt was knotted at the waist like she’d just stepped off a country music video. She walked up with the kind of confidence only Texan women could carry, and I swear even the horses slowed down to check her out.

She glanced at me. No—through me. Like I was lint. Or worse, city girl dirt that needed to be scraped off her boots.

“So,” she said with her slow drawl, arms crossed, voice just dripping honey and venom. “You’re Nath’s new girl, huh? From the city?”

Excuse me.
EXCUSE ME.

I was about to politely ignore her—maybe even fake-cough my way back to the potato salad—when I saw Nathaniel jog over. Sweat-drenched, smiling, tanned cowboy fantasy Nathaniel.
And then—oh no he did not—he kissed her cheek. Her cheek.
“Claire!” he grinned, like we were in some godforsaken Hallmark movie. “Didn’t know you were back in town.”

The audacity. The disrespect. The sheer playboy DNA in his bloodstream acting up.

I froze, blinking at them like a deer in headlights. But inside? Oh, darling, inside I was burning.

And that brunette—Claire—was looking at me with smug satisfaction, like she’d just won a prize she hadn’t even entered a raffle for.

That was it.

If he wanted a girlfriend for show, well guess what? He was about to get a performance.

I slapped on my sweetest smile, marched right over, and slipped my hand firmly through Nathaniel’s arm. My grip might as well have been a chokehold, but I still smiled like butter wouldn’t melt in my mouth.
“So,” I said loudly enough for everyone within a three-mile radius to hear, “is this one of your old flings, darling?”
The “darling” dripped like poison disguised as honey.
Nathaniel turned his head slowly, and that bastard—that bastard—smiled back at me. Not guilty. Not apologetic. No. He looked like a man who had just won the damn lottery.
His eyes twinkled like he knew I was livid. Like he enjoyed me fuming, gripping his arm hard enough to cut off circulation.
He leaned down, lips brushing near my ear. “Jealous, darling?”
I smiled wider, even as my soul shrieked. “Not at all. Just making sure your… friend knows where you stand.”
Claire raised a brow, and Nathaniel chuckled low, so smug.
Meanwhile, my insides?

Melting. Exploding. Screaming.
I’m not jealous.
I’m not jealous.
I’m not jealous.
…Dammit, I’m jealous.