Chapter 206

Chapter 206
I stomped back into the ranch house, my cheeks burning hot like someone set me on fire. “Pretend, pretend, PRETEND,” I muttered under my breath like a damn broken record. Because that’s all this was. A fake show for his family. Nothing more.
I was halfway down the hallway toward my room when—of course—the devil himself appeared. Nathaniel leaned against the doorframe like he was in a damn cowboy romance poster, arms crossed, smugness dripping from every pore.
“Fernandes,” he drawled, his voice low enough to vibrate in my chest. “You keep stormin’ off like that, folks are gonna think you actually care.”
I spun on him so fast my hair nearly slapped him in the face. “Care? Please. You’re the last man on earth I’d—”
His eyebrow quirked. “—love?”
I froze. The word hung there, dangerous, like a trap. “That’s not what I was gonna say,” I snapped, shoving past him toward my room.
But he was faster. His hand shot out, catching mine—not rough, but firm enough that I had to face him. His eyes weren’t smug now. They were steady. Intense.
“You can deny it all you want, darlin’,” he murmured, leaning down just enough that his breath brushed my ear. “But I see the way you look at me.”
My heart betrayed me by skipping a beat. I yanked my hand back like touching him burned. “You’re imagining things. I don’t look at you. And I don’t love you.”
For a second—just a second—his smirk faltered. I caught it. That tiny crack in his armor. Then it was gone, replaced by his trademark grin, the one that made me want to strangle him and kiss him at the same time.
“Good thing we’re just pretendin’ then,” he said lightly, stepping back. “Shame, though. I’d have kissed you senseless if you weren’t so stubborn.”
My jaw dropped. “You—”
But he was already walking away, whistling like we hadn’t just lit the entire hallway on fire.
I stood there, fists clenched, face red, heart hammering in my chest. And then, with the maturity of a woman in full denial, I slammed my bedroom door so hard the frame rattled.
“PRETEND,” I hissed into my pillow. “JUST PRETEND.”
So why did my lips still tingle like I’d wanted him to kiss me?
And why was he looking at me like he was about to devour me?


The next morning at breakfast was torture. Pure torture. Everyone was smirking like I was the punchline of some inside joke, and I knew it was because my dramatic door slam last night rattled the entire damn ranch. Lara actually winked at me when she passed the orange juice, and his mom just kept humming happily like she was already planning our wedding invitations.
Meanwhile, Nathaniel sat across from me with that stupid firefighter-hero-smug grin, sipping his coffee like the King of Chaos he was.
But the real hell didn’t come until midnight.
Because apparently, fate hates me.
I was half-asleep, hugging my pillow, when my door creaked open. I shot up like a ninja. “If you’re a murderer, make it quick because I am done with today.”
And then he strolled in. Nathaniel freaking Lisbon. Shirtless. Looking sinful in pajama pants like he knew I had zero strength left to fight.
“What the hell are you doing in my room?” I hissed, clutching my blanket like it was a shield.
“Couldn’t sleep,” he said casually, shutting the door behind him. “Figured I’d do what real boyfriends do—sneak into their girlfriend’s room when no one’s watching.”
The nerve.
I blinked. Then narrowed my eyes. “Are you seriously trying to justify waking me up at midnight by pretending you’re auditioning for a Nicholas Sparks movie?”
“Come on, give a man a break.” He slid onto my bed like it was his bed. “I couldn’t sleep. I was thinking about that kiss.”
My face combusted.
“Shut the fuck up, Lisbon, and sleep before I smother you with this pillow.”
He chuckled, that deep, warm rumble that did dangerous things to my sanity, and laid back with his hands behind his head like he owned the place. “Fine. But you should know—you were very jealous earlier. Cute, really.”
I rolled my eyes so hard I nearly sprained them. “Please. That was acting. You’re lucky I didn’t actually shove your ex into a horse trough.”
“That’s what I’m saying,” he smirked. “Jealousy, Texas style.”
I grabbed my pillow and whacked him in the arm. He just laughed harder.
Within minutes, though, exhaustion won. My eyes drooped, my body relaxed against the mattress, and despite all my threats, I fell asleep—on his arm, no less.
The last thing I heard before I drifted off was his quiet, smug whisper in the dark:
“Knew you liked having me here, darlin’.”
If I wasn’t half-asleep, I would’ve murdered him.