Chapter 205

Chapter 205
If there was a medal for “World’s Most Annoying Ex-Something,” Claire would’ve snatched gold, silver, and bronze.

She looked me up and down, like I was some city-bought knockoff handbag she could toss in the trash. Then she had the nerve—THE NERVE—to smile at Nathaniel, flip her perfect brunette hair, and purr,

“So, Nath, how about we catch up later? You and me. Like old times. I’ve got some peach pie at the house, and I’m sure your mama wouldn’t mind.”

Peach. Freaking. Pie.

I nearly choked on my own saliva. Was this cowgirl serious? She said it with a wink. A wink. Right there, in front of me, while my hand was still glued to Nathaniel’s arm like I was a barnacle holding on for dear life.

I braced myself, expecting him to stammer out something playboy-ish, or worse—smirk and say yes. Because that’s what men like Nathaniel Lisbon did. They entertained. They charmed. They said yes to peach pies and “catch-ups” with old flames because they were genetically built to flirt their way through life.

But instead—he surprised me.

Nathaniel’s arm slid around my waist, tighter this time, almost protective. He looked straight at Claire, not breaking eye contact, his voice firm but calm.

“Can’t. I already have plans.”

My head whipped toward him. “Plans?”

“Yeah,” he said, and then he looked down at me with this infuriatingly smug smile that made my stomach flip. “With my girl.”
My. Girl.
Oh. My. Freaking. God.
Claire blinked. Once. Twice. Like someone just slapped her with a wet tortilla. “Your… girl?” she repeated, voice dripping with disbelief.
Nathaniel didn’t flinch. “That’s right. Aya.” He tugged me closer until I was basically plastered to his side like human Velcro. “We’ve been together for a while now.”

“Together?!” I squeaked, elbowing him in the ribs, but he just grunted and kept smirking like this was his grand performance on Broadway.

Claire crossed her arms. “Well, isn’t that something. Didn’t think I’d ever see you settling down, Nath. Especially not with…” Her eyes flicked over me like I was a grocery item with no barcode. “…this.”

Excuse me?! THIS?!

But before I could unleash hell, Nathaniel’s voice dropped an octave.

“Careful, Claire,” he warned softly, almost like a growl. “She’s more than ‘this.’”

My jaw dropped. His arm was steel around me now, his body heat searing through my dress, and I hated—HATED—that my heart was doing Olympic gymnastics.

Claire’s lips pursed. “Well, ain’t that sweet. Hope she can handle Texas heat, Nath. You know it burns real hot here.”

“Oh, she can handle it,” he said easily, eyes never leaving hers. Then, like the absolute menace he was, he kissed the top of my head. A soft, lingering kiss that sent every nerve in my body on fire.

Claire’s eyes narrowed, but she forced a smile. “Good for you.”

Then she turned on her expensive cowboy boots and strutted off, hips swaying like she thought she won something.

As soon as she was gone, I shoved Nathaniel so hard he almost tripped into the BBQ pit.

“WHAT the hell was that?!” I hissed, my face redder than the hot sauce bottle. “My girl? Nathaniel, are you insane?!”

He just chuckled, rubbing his ribs where I elbowed him. “What? Did you want me to say yes to her peach pie?”

“I—No—That’s not—Ugh!” I threw my hands up. “You’re impossible!”

Nathaniel grinned, leaning down until his lips brushed my ear. “Relax, darling. It’s all part of the act.”

I wanted to scream. I wanted to slap him.

But mostly, I wanted to kiss the smugness right off his stupidly perfect face.



The BBQ was winding down, music drifting through the warm Texas evening. Someone had cranked up an old country song, and half the family was singing along, stomping their boots in rhythm. The sun was setting behind the hills, painting the sky in streaks of orange and pink, and I found myself on the porch, rocking slightly on the swing, trying to breathe.

Because damn it—my fake cowboy boyfriend had nearly short-circuited my brain earlier.
“My girl,” he’d said. Like it was nothing. Like it wasn’t the most dangerous, heart-imploding thing I’d ever heard in my life.
I was glaring at the horizon, muttering about smug firefighters and their overinflated egos, when I felt him.
Nathaniel.
He didn’t announce himself. He just came up behind me, close enough that I could feel the heat radiating off him, close enough that I caught the faint smell of smoke and cedar that clung to his shirt.
When I finally turned, he was smiling. But not his usual cocky, infuriating grin. This was… softer. Calmer. And that smugness I always wanted to slap off his face? Gone.
He was just looking at me.

Like I was the sunset.

My chest tightened. I hated it. I hated that my first instinct wasn’t to roll my eyes, but to drown in those eyes of his.

“You gonna keep avoiding me all night, darlin’?” he asked quietly, his voice rough in the way that scraped my nerves raw.

“I’m not avoiding you,” I lied instantly, arms crossing. “I’m just… enjoying the sunset. Alone. Without any overgrown cowboy/firefighters declaring me their property in front of jealous ex-girlfriends.”
He chuckled, stepping closer, until his shadow swallowed mine. “Jealous, huh?”
I whipped my head toward him. “I said jealous ex, not me!”
Nathaniel leaned against the porch railing, way too close, his shoulders brushing mine. “Mhm. Sure. But if it bothers you so much, maybe it’s ‘cause you liked hearing me say it.”

“I did not!”

“Did too.”

“Did not!”

“Darlin’, you were redder than barbecue sauce.”

I wanted to shove him off the porch. Instead, I shoved my finger into his chest. “Listen, Nathaniel Lisbon. This whole fake relationship thing has rules. RULES. And one of them is—you don’t go around making declarations like that. It’s confusing.”
His hand caught mine before I could jab him again. His grip was warm, firm, but gentle.
“Confusing for who?” he asked softly.
My throat went dry.

For me. Obviously for me.
But the way he was staring at me now—eyes unreadable but heavy, like he was seeing straight through all my defenses—I couldn’t say it.
Instead, I whispered, “For everyone.”
Nathaniel’s thumb brushed over my knuckles. A simple motion, but it burned like fire. “Good,” he murmured. “Let ‘em be confused. As long as you’re mine when it counts.”
And then—God help me—he leaned in.
So close I could feel his breath against my lips, warm and teasing. So close my pulse went haywire.

I should’ve pulled back. I should’ve told him to stop. I should’ve remembered this was all fake.
But instead, I froze, breath caught, as if one more inch would ruin me.
“Nathaniel…” I whispered, my voice trembling.
His lips curved. “Say my name again like that, Aya, and I swear—”
The porch door creaked open.
“Y’all want more beer or what?” his brother-in-law called, completely oblivious.
I practically jumped three feet back, almost tripping on the swing. “NO. I’M GOOD.”
Nathaniel smirked, slow and sinful. “We’ll finish this later.”
Oh. Hell. No.
Oh. Hell. Yes.