Page 33 of Fake it With Me

I felt that pull I’d been trying to ignore since the almost-kiss in my closet.

We actually vibed. That was the problem. This wasn’t just physical attraction, though god knows there was plenty of that. We understood each other. Both of us were running from messy situations while trying to protect ourselves from getting hurt.

“I should go to bed,” I said, but I didn’t move.

He nodded. But he didn’t move either.

I could feel the energy in the room. It sizzled. Crackled. I watched his eyes drop to my mouth and I nearly melted in my seat. I gulped down the rest of the liquor in my glass.

I didn’t know what was happening, but it was very clear we were drawn to one another. Maybe it was just the close proximity. He said he didn’t date much and I believed him. It was clear he was a devoted single father. And I obviously hadn’t been out with anyone in way too long. I wasn’t even sure I remembered the last time I had sex.

That was all this was. We were in his house alone and drinking after spending an awesome day together. We were basically the same age. It was just human nature. I was a scientist. I understood the complexities of sexual connection.

“Goodnight, Darek.” I slid off the stool and walked out of the kitchen before I could do something stupid.

I had to get away from him before I could cross back to him and kiss him and ruin everything. I made it to my room and closed the door, leaning against it and pressing my palms to my flushed cheeks. This was so bad. I was catching feelings for my client.

I needed to get my head straight. Remember why I was here, what this was. A job. A means to an end. A way to pay off my student loans and afford to live while I finish my dissertation.

I wasn’t here to find a family. Or a relationship. Or a future.

Just a month. I could keep it together for a month.

I had to.

12

DAREK

Iwoke up the next day groggy, having barely slept. Every time I had closed my eyes, I saw Liza standing in my kitchen, her cheeks flushed from the bourbon, her eyes meeting mine with that same confused hunger I felt. I’d spent half the night reminding myself of all the reasons why touching her would be a catastrophically bad idea.

I found Liza and Daisie already in the kitchen when I came downstairs. Daisie was chattering about whales again while Liza made pancakes, and the scene was so domestic it made my chest ache.

This was exactly what I’d been afraid of last night.

“Morning,” I said, pouring myself coffee.

We moved through breakfast with the ease of people who’d been doing this for years instead of days. Daisie ate her cereal while telling us about a book her teacher was going to read today. Liza asked questions and made encouraging noises. I drank my coffee and tried not to think about how nice this all felt.

After breakfast, I cleared my throat. “You’ll have the house to yourself today. I’m taking Daisie to school and then I’ll be down at the boathouse most of the day.”

“Oh.” Liza looked up from loading the dishwasher. “Is there anything I should do? Clean or cook something?”

I laughed. “No, we have a housekeeper. She comes twice a week. You’re free to do whatever you want. Use the office if you need to work on your research, go into town, whatever.”

“Okay.” She nodded, looking almost relieved to have some space.

I couldn’t blame her.

Twenty minutes later, I was backing out of the garage with Daisie buckled in the back seat. “Will Liza be there when I get home?”

“Yeah, she will be.”

“Good.” Daisie smiled. “I like her. She’s nice.”

“She is nice,” I agreed.

“And pretty.”