Page 37 of Lucky Haven

I recoil at the word.

He immediately softens his tone. “Sorry. But in my books, that’s not a bad word. And I know there are a lot of people who take one look at you and know that’s not true. Jasper Fucking Lane doesn’t think that’s true about you, I’ll tell you that much. To the people whose opinion matters the most to me, to Mercy and Dr. Tailfeathers and people who buy my mom’s kale every week, you’re a prize catch for me. And it could take months before you feel comfortable in town, and the whispers stop. Your safety is my top concern, I promise. So I’m in no hurry to get out of this arrangement.”

“I don’t know if I can handle months of fake dating you,” I confess.

He just grins, and it softens something in my chest.

“But that’s reassuring, thank you.” I take a deep breath and repeat my gratitude. “Thank you. Seriously.”

“No, don’t thank me. I’ve been beating myself up for not noticing that you were lonely sooner. I wish that we had been closer friends in high school. Obviously, I wish that things had gone really differently seven years ago. We could have been closer friends then, too. But most of all, I really wish that I had noticed what you were going through when you came home. I have a lot of regrets when it comes to you, but this, what we’re doing here, this isn’t going to be one of them. When you’re ready to move on from me…”

Why does my heart squeeze when he trails off, his gaze searching my face?

Ugh.

But I put it on the list for a reason. This is something that we need to talk about.

His voice softens. “Let’s just say that I don’t want us to be locked into ending this before you’re ready to move on.”

“Damn it, Cash Kincaid…”

“Cursing, Haven Bingham? That’s hot.”

I laugh, my cheeks turning hot.

His gaze shifts, goes soft and lazy and something else that I can’t name but I like way too much. His eyes get hooded and he takes my hand, his thumb stroking a circle against my skin as soon as he’s touching me. It makes me shiver. “You deserve to be treated right. I’m looking forward to dancing with you after the wedding.”

Dancing?

Cash was right. I didn’t know what I was unleashing when I kissed him.

“I can’t dance,” I blurt out.

He grins. “You told me that when you were drunk. But don’t worry, we have two weeks to practice. Give me your phone.”

“What? Why?”

“So I can give you my number.”

At least that’s an excuse to pull away from him, yank myself out of his orbit.

But he stands with me, following me as I cross to my purse.

When I hand him my phone, his fingers brush mine, and there’s that shiver again.

He grins as he types something on the screen, presumably texting himself. Then he holds out his arm and takes a photo of himself.

“What are you doing?”

“Putting myself in your contacts list.”

A funny little feeling deep in my belly stretches and rolls over. Like a kitten very happy to have some attention.

He taps on the screen and frowns. “Do you not have Instagram? TikTok?”

“No.”

“Any social media at all?”