The betting shop had a way of making even quiet things feel loud.
Coins against wood. Men clearing their throats. Pollyโs heels crossing the floor with purpose. The scratch of pencils over slips, the low murmur of odds being changed, the door opening and shutting so often that the cold seemed to come in by habit.
You had only been working there three weeks, and already you knew where not to stand when Arthur came in angry, which drawer stuck if you pulled it too quickly, and which men tried to lean too far across the counter when Polly wasnโt looking.
You had also learned that John Shelby was trouble.
Not in the way men usually were. Not the cheap sort of trouble that came with a hand at your waist before permission or a smile that curdled when you said no. Johnโs trouble was brighter than that. It came in with his hat tilted back, cigarette at the corner of his mouth, eyes full of humor even before he said a word.
He was too easy to look at, and worse, too easy to like.
That was the dangerous part.
โYouโve written that same number twice,โ Polly said from beside you.
You startled, pencil slipping slightly between your fingers. โSorry?โ
Polly reached over, tapped the book with one painted nail, and gave you a look sharp enough to make you straighten. โI said youโve written the same number twice.โ
โOh.โ You leaned closer, heat rising in your face as you saw the mistake. โIโm sorry, Mrs. Gray. Iโll fix it.โ
โItโs Polly,โ she said. โAnd if you call me Mrs. Gray every time you make a mistake, Iโll start thinking youโre trying to make me feel old.โ
From across the room, John laughed.
You did not look up. You had been trying very hard, all morning, not to look up.
It was impossible to miss him anyway. He had come in half an hour ago with Arthur, bringing cold air and cigarette smoke with him, his coat dark from the damp outside. Since then, he had made a show of pretending to help, which mostly meant leaning near the counter and distracting anyone within reach.
โYouโre making her nervous, John boy,โ Arthur said, not even bothering to lower his voice.
โIโm standing here.โ
โYouโre never just standing anywhere. Always got to be doing something with your face.โ
John turned, offended. โWhatโs wrong with my face?โ
Arthur looked at you, as if inviting you to answer.
You bent over the book, carefully scratching out the mistake. You did not trust yourself to speak. If you said nothing, perhaps they would forget you were there.
They did not.
โLeave her be,โ Polly said. โShe does more work in an hour than either of you do in a day.โ
John put a hand over his chest. โThat hurt, Pol.โ
โGood.โ
You bit the inside of your cheek before a smile could get away from you.
John saw it anyway.
That was another thing about him. He noticed too much.
You felt his attention before you heard him move. Then he was closer, not crowding you, but close enough that the scent of smoke and soap reached you over the paper and ink.
โDonโt listen to them,โ he said. โMy face is well liked around here.โ
You glanced up despite yourself.
He was smiling, but not the broad one he wore for everyone else. This was smaller. Almost careful. Like he had lowered his voice for you alone and hadnโt quite known why.
โIโm sure it is,โ you said.
Arthur made a noise from behind him.
John pointed without turning. โShut up.โ
โI never said nothing.โ
โYou were thinking it.โ
โI was thinking sheโs got sense, that one. More than you.โ
The smile escaped you then, quick and unwilling, and John looked so pleased by it that you immediately lowered your eyes again.
Polly watched all of this in silence.
She watched you tuck your pencil behind your ear with fingers that werenโt as steady as they had been before John came over. She watched John reach for a stack of slips he did not need, only to forget what he was doing because you had smiled at something Arthur said. She watched Arthur watch the two of you and roll his eyes to the ceiling as if asking God for strength.
By the end of your third week, everyone in the betting shop knew.
Everyone except you and John.
You knew that John was kind to you, but you did not let yourself build anything from kindness. You had done that before. You had taken a smile and made it into promise, taken a manโs attention and dressed it up as devotion, only to be left sitting alone outside a picture house while rain soaked through your shoes.
Once, a man had told you he loved how soft you were. Two months later, you found out he had been saying the same thing to a barmaid with brighter lipstick and easier laughter.
You had learned, slowly and painfully, that men liked sweetness until it bored them. They liked quiet girls until they wanted someone louder. They liked being adored until it asked something of them.
So when John brought you tea without asking, you told yourself he had brought tea for everyone.
When he walked you to the end of Watery Lane after dark, you told yourself Tommy must have told him to.
When he leaned over your shoulder and asked you to check his figures, even though you were fairly certain John Shelby could count money in his sleep, you told yourself he was being polite.
And when his hand brushed yours over a pile of betting slips and he went still for half a second, you told yourself you had imagined it.
John, for his part, thought you were too good to be looked at for too long.
It was ridiculous, and he knew it. He had never been shy. He had never lacked words around women, never struggled to turn a smile into something more if he wanted. But with you, he found himself saying the wrong things or nothing at all.
He liked the way you listened before you answered. He liked that you thanked men who did not deserve it, then looked secretly pleased when Polly snapped at them afterward. He liked the little frown you made when you were adding numbers, and the way you pressed your thumb against the edge of paper before turning a page.
He liked that you were gentle without being weak.
That was the thing that got him worst.
You were gentle in a house full of sharp edges, and John could not understand why that made him want to stand between you and every door that opened.
โAsk her to the pictures,โ Ada said one afternoon, perched on the corner of Tommyโs desk like she owned it.
John was cleaning mud from under his fingernail with a letter opener. He did not look at her. โAsk who?โ
Ada stared at him.
John kept scraping at his nail.
โRight,โ she said. โPlay thick. Suits you.โ
Tommy, who had been reading by the window, did not lift his head. โSheโs talking about Y/n.โ
โI know who sheโs talking about.โ
โThen answer her.โ
John set the letter opener down a little too hard. โNothing to answer.โ
Ada laughed. โYou look at her like a starving dog outside a butcherโs.โ
Arthur, standing near the door with a cigarette between his fingers, let out a bark of laughter. โThatโs true, that is.โ
John pointed at him. โYou stay out of it.โ
โGladly. Sick of watching it.โ
โThereโs nothing to watch.โ
At that, Tommy finally looked up.
John hated when Tommy looked at him like that. Calm. Knowing. Annoying.
โYouโve scared men for less than standing too close to her,โ Tommy said.
Johnโs jaw tightened. โMen should know where to stand.โ
Ada softened a little. โAnd where should you stand?โ
John had no answer for that.
He looked through the glass of Tommyโs office instead, out into the shop where you were helping Polly sort the afternoonโs books. You were holding a stack of papers close to your chest, nodding as Polly spoke. A loose piece of hair had fallen near your cheek, and you kept trying to push it back with the back of your wrist because your hands were full.
John had the stupid, sudden urge to go over and do it for you.
He stayed where he was.
โSheโs not for men like us,โ he said.
Adaโs face changed.
Arthur stopped smiling.
Tommy said nothing, but his gaze moved from John to the window, where you had gone still just outside the office door.
You had come to bring Pollyโs ledger in. The book was heavy against your ribs, your fingers curled around the spine of it so tightly that the corners dug into your hand.
John did not see you at first.
โSheโs a good girl,โ he went on, quieter now, rougher around the edges. โWhatโs she going to do with all this, eh? With me?โ
The words reached you with no kindness attached to them.
Sheโs not for men like us.
A good girl.
Whatโs she going to do with me?
It should not have hurt as much as it did. You had no claim on him. No promise. No right to feel as though something had been taken from you. Still, your throat tightened so suddenly that you had to turn away before anyone saw your face change.
Polly saw.
Of course Polly saw.
You set the ledger on the nearest table instead of taking it into the office and went back to your work with your head low.
John noticed the difference within the hour.
At first, he thought you were busy. Then he thought you were tired. Then, when he asked if you wanted him to walk you home and you told him no without looking at him, he felt something drop hard in his stomach.
โNo?โ he repeated.
You wrapped your scarf around your neck, fingers moving quickly. โIโll be fine.โ
โItโs dark.โ
โI know the way.โ
John glanced toward Polly, but she was watching him with an expression that offered no help at all.
โDid I do something?โ he asked.
You looked at him then. It was worse than if you had kept your eyes down. There was no anger in your face, no accusation. Just a careful little distance where warmth had been that morning.
โNo,โ you said. โGoodnight, John.โ
He stood there, cigarette forgotten between his fingers, and watched you leave.
For three days, you were polite to him.
That was how John knew he had done something truly terrible.
You answered when he spoke. You smiled when other people were looking. You passed him papers when asked and thanked him if he held the door. But you no longer lingered near his desk. You no longer made tea and left his cup closer than the others. You no longer looked at him like you were trying not to.
By the third day, Arthur had lost patience.
โSheโs avoiding you,โ he said.
John was leaning against the counter, watching you speak to a customer at the far end of the shop. โI noticed.โ
โGood. Thought youโd gone blind as well as stupid.โ
John slid him a look. โArthur.โ
โWhat? You have. Walking round here with a face like someone kicked your dog and all because you wonโt say what you mean.โ
John rubbed a hand over his mouth. โDonโt know what I mean.โ
Arthur scoffed. โYou want her.โ
โItโs not that simple.โ
โIt is, actually. You just make things worse because youโve got a Shelby head on you.โ
Before John could answer, the door opened.
The man who walked in had a smile that made your hand freeze over the slip you were writing.
He was dressed well enough to want people to notice, collar neat, hair slicked, gloves tucked into one hand. Nothing about him looked particularly threatening, and perhaps that was why the sight of him made you feel so foolish. He was not a monster. He was just a man. Just a man who had once made you feel chosen, then left you feeling like something easy to set down.
โY/n,โ he said, smiling wider. โWell. Look at you.โ
Your pencil rolled from your fingers.
John saw.
The whole shop seemed to shift around that one small sound.
โCan I help you?โ you asked.
The man leaned against the counter. Too familiar. Too comfortable. โThat any way to greet an old friend?โ
You swallowed. โIf youโre placing a bet, I can take it. Otherwiseโโ
โListen to that,โ he said, looking around as if he had an audience. โAll proper now, are we?โ
John pushed away from the counter.
Arthur caught his sleeve. Not to stop him, exactly. Just to warn him to wait.
The manโs gaze moved over the shop, taking in the Shelby men, then back to you. โDidnโt think this was your sort of place.โ
โItโs work.โ
โMm. Your father know youโre working for them?โ
โThatโs none of your business.โ
His smile thinned. There it was. The part you remembered. The quick change when you did not give him what he wanted.
โI was only asking,โ he said. โNo need to get upset. You always did take things too much to heart.โ
You looked down at the counter.
He leaned in just a little.
โStill looking at men like they owe you something, are you? That was always your trouble.โ He gave a small laugh, soft enough that it might have passed for harmless to anyone who did not hear the blade under it. โToo easy to disappoint.โ
You did not move.
You felt, horribly, like every person in the room had heard him reach into you and name the thing you tried hardest to hide.
John did move then.
Arthur did not stop him.
John crossed the shop in a few quick strides and came to stand beside you, close enough that his arm nearly brushed yours, but not touching. His eyes were on the man across the counter.
โYou placed your bet?โ John asked.
The man blinked. โSorry?โ
โYour bet,โ John said. โYou come in to place one, place it. You come in for something else, walk back out.โ
The man looked John up and down, doing a poor job of pretending he was not nervous. โI was having a conversation.โ
โNo,โ John said. โYou were talking at a woman who clearly finished with you long before today.โ
Your breath caught.
The manโs face tightened. โThis doesnโt concern you.โ
John smiled then, but there was nothing easy in it. โEverything in this shop concerns me.โ
For a moment, no one spoke.
The man looked at Arthur, then at the door, then back at John. Whatever he saw in Johnโs face helped him make his decision.
He straightened, smoothing his gloves as if leaving had been his plan all along. โFine. No need for all this.โ
John did not step back.
The man gave you one last look, meant to make you feel small.
It might have worked, if John had not shifted slightly in front of you.
The door shut behind him.
Noise returned slowly. A cough. A chair scraping. Arthur muttering something under his breath as he turned away.
You stared at the counter.
John looked at your hands first. They were curled tightly against the wood.
โYou all right?โ he asked.
It was the gentleness in his voice that nearly undid you.
You nodded too quickly. โIโm fine.โ
โYou donโt look fine.โ
โI said Iโm fine.โ
The words came sharper than you meant them to. Johnโs face changed, not with anger, but surprise.
You stepped back from the counter. โExcuse me.โ
โY/nโโ
โI need air.โ
You moved before he could stop you, pushing through the side door into the narrow yard behind the shop. The cold hit your face and helped a little. Not enough.
You pressed your hands to your mouth, embarrassed by the way they shook.
You had not cried when you found out he cheated. You had not cried outside the picture house, not until you got home and took off your wet shoes. You had not cried after the second man stood you up, or the third, when your friend told you perhaps you were trying too hard.
But this felt worse.
Because John had seen.
John, who you had been stupid enough to hope about. John, who thought you were not for men like him and now knew exactly the sort of woman you were. One who could be laughed at. One who could be left. One who still stood there and let a man from her past make her feel like a fool with one sentence.
The door opened behind you.
You wiped quickly beneath your eyes, turning your face away. โPlease donโt.โ
John stopped a few feet from you. โI wonโt come closer.โ
That made you feel worse somehow.
He stayed by the door, hands low, shoulders tense beneath his coat. For once, he looked unsure of himself.
โIโm sorry,โ he said.
You gave a small, humorless laugh. โYou didnโt say it.โ
โNo. But I shouldโve knocked his teeth out for it.โ
โYou canโt knock everyoneโs teeth out for me.โ
โI can make a decent start.โ
Despite yourself, your mouth trembled close to a smile before it disappeared.
John saw that too.
โI mean it,โ he said. โIโm sorry.โ
You looked down at the wet ground. โFor what?โ
He was quiet for a second too long.
โFor whatever I did that made you stop looking at me.โ
Your chest tightened.
The yard felt too small suddenly, the walls too close, the air too cold in your lungs.
โYou didnโt do anything,โ you said.
โDonโt lie to me.โ
โIโm not.โ
โYou are.โ He took half a step forward, then stopped himself. โYouโve barely spoken to me for three days. You think I havenโt noticed?โ
โI thought that might be easier for you.โ
John frowned. โEasier?โ
You folded your arms around yourself. โI heard you.โ
โWhen?โ
โIn Tommyโs office. You said I wasnโt for men like you.โ
His face went still.
You hated that stillness. It gave you time to fill in the silence yourself, and you had never been kind in the way you filled silence.
โItโs all right,โ you said, before he could speak. โYou donโt have to explain it. I know what you meant.โ
โNo, you donโt.โ
โI do.โ
โYou donโt,โ he said, sharper now, then immediately softened his voice. โY/n, you donโt.โ
You finally looked at him.
John dragged a hand over his face, laughing once under his breath, but there was no humor in it. โChrist. Iโm bad at this.โ
โAt what?โ
โAt wanting something without ruining it.โ
The words sat between you.
He looked away first, jaw working as though he was trying to force the rest out and resented needing to say it at all.
โWhen I said you werenโt for men like us, I didnโt mean I didnโt want you,โ he said. โI meant I wanted you too much and didnโt know what the hell to do about it.โ
You stared at him.
John looked back at you then, eyes steady despite the nervous movement of his fingers at his side.
โYou come in here with your quiet voice and your careful hands, and you make this place feel less like itโs made out of smoke and shouting. And I know what I am. I know what people say about us. About me.โ His mouth twisted. โI thought if I had any sense, Iโd leave you alone before you got pulled into it.โ
You breathed out slowly. โSo you were protecting me?โ
โTrying to.โ
โYou hurt me.โ
โI know.โ
The answer came too quickly to be anything but honest.
John stepped closer, just one pace, and this time you did not move away.
โI know,โ he said again. โAnd Iโm sorry. I thought I was doing the right thing, keeping back. But then you stopped bringing me tea and started calling me Mr. Shelby in that voiceโโ
โI did not.โ
โYou did. Awful thing. Like being stabbed with good manners.โ
A laugh slipped out of you before you could stop it.
Johnโs expression changed at the sound, some of the tension leaving his shoulders.
Then the feeling that had been sitting in your chest all afternoon rose again, and you looked away.
โWhat he said in there,โ you said. โItโs true, in a way.โ
Johnโs face hardened. โNo, it isnโt.โ
โYou donโt know what I mean.โ
โI know enough.โ
You shook your head. โI do expect things. I know I shouldnโt, but I do. I expect people to mean what they say. I expect them to come back when they promise they will. I expect them to choose me because I wouldโve chosen them.โ Your voice thinned, and you hated it. โAnd then when they donโt, I feel stupid for ever thinking they might.โ
John was quiet.
You stared at the brick wall opposite you, at the damp darkening the edges, at anything but him.
โI know Iโm not exciting,โ you said. โI know Iโm not the sort of woman men lose their heads over. Iโm justโฆโ
The sentence broke off because you did not know how to finish it without sounding as small as you felt.
John closed the space between you then.
Not quickly. Not in a way that trapped you. He came close enough that you had to look at him, and when you did, his face was serious in a way that made the rest of the world seem to fall back.
โDonโt do that,โ he said.
You blinked. โDo what?โ
โTalk about yourself like some man who didnโt know what he had gets to decide what you are.โ
Your eyes stung.
John lifted his hand, hesitated, then brushed his knuckles lightly against your sleeve. Asking without making you answer out loud.
You did not pull away.
โI noticed you the first day,โ he said. โYou had ink on your finger and you kept hiding your hands every time Polly looked at your work. I noticed you wouldnโt sit down until Finn had a chair, even though he didnโt need one. I noticed you smile when you think no oneโs watching.โ His voice dipped lower. โAnd I noticed that every time I get near you, I start acting like a lad whoโs never spoken to a woman before.โ
You let out a shaky breath, caught somewhere between laughter and crying.
John smiled faintly. โThat is not a small thing, love.โ
Love.
He said it so softly that it did not sound practiced.
You looked down at where his hand still hovered near your sleeve. โI thought you were only kind to me because youโre kind to women.โ
โIโm not that kind.โ
That startled another small laugh from you.
He grinned, but it faded as quickly as it came. โI mean it. I donโt walk women home because Iโm worried about the stones in the road. I donโt bring tea I donโt drink just so someone will have a warm cup. I donโt spend half a morning pretending I canโt add because I like the view of a ledger.โ
โYou pretended you couldnโt add?โ
โBadly, I thought.โ
โI didnโt want to assume.โ
โAssume next time.โ
Your gaze lifted to his.
Johnโs eyes moved over your face, careful now, softer than he looked inside the shop. โTell me to leave you alone and I will.โ
You did not answer at once.
It would have been safer to tell him yes. Safer to go back inside, finish the books, go home, and let your silly hope die before it became something you could not control.
But John Shelby was standing in front of you looking like he would let you break his heart if it meant you got to choose.
No one had ever given you that before. The choosing.
โI donโt want you to leave me alone,โ you said.
The relief that crossed his face was so open it nearly hurt.
โNo?โ
You shook your head.
Johnโs hand moved from your sleeve to your fingers. He touched you gently, like he knew you had been handled carelessly before and meant to make a point of the difference. His thumb brushed once over your knuckles.
โIโm not good at soft things,โ he said.
โYouโve been soft with me.โ
โNot enough.โ
โEnough for me to notice.โ
He looked at your joined hands. โIโll do it wrong sometimes.โ
โI know.โ
His mouth quirked. โYouโre meant to say no, John, youโll be perfect.โ
โI donโt think Iโd believe that.โ
โFair.โ
You smiled properly then, and this time you let him see all of it.
Johnโs eyes dropped to your mouth and came back up again, a little less steady than before. โCan I kiss you?โ
The question was so plain, so unlike the men who had taken your silence for permission, that something inside you loosened.
โYes,โ you said.
John leaned in slowly.
The kiss was gentle at first, almost cautious, his hand still holding yours between you. You had expected him to kiss like he talked, all nerve and confidence, but he kissed you like he was listening for every breath. Like he did not want to miss the moment you changed your mind, if you did.
You didnโt.
You stepped closer, your free hand catching lightly at the front of his coat, and John made a quiet sound in his throat before his other hand rose to your waist. Not pulling. Just settling there, warm and sure.
When he drew back, he did not go far.
His forehead nearly touched yours, his breath brushing your cheek.
โStill think youโre easy to disappoint?โ he asked.
You looked at him, at the careful hope in his face, at the way his thumb still moved over your knuckles.
โI think Iโve been disappointed enough to expect it.โ
John nodded once, as if he understood that difference and did not mean to argue it away.
โThen let me be the first man to prove you wrong.โ
Your chest ached at that.
Inside the shop, someone knocked sharply against the window.
You both turned.
Arthur stood there with his hands raised in exaggerated triumph, grinning like a fool. Ada was beside him, laughing behind her cigarette. Even Tommy had appeared in the office doorway, looking faintly amused. Polly, standing closest to the glass, gave you one approving nod before turning away as though she had not been watching the whole time.
You hid your face against Johnโs shoulder with a groan.
John laughed, low and pleased, his arm coming around you properly now. โTold you my face was well liked around here.โ
โYouโre unbearable.โ
โYouโll get used to it.โ
You lifted your head. โWill I?โ
His smile softened.
โIf you want to.โ
There it was again. The choice.
You looked at the man in front of you, at the trouble in him and the gentleness he tried so hard to pretend he did not have. You thought of every old disappointment, every empty promise, every night you had walked home alone feeling foolish for hoping.
Then you thought of John standing beside you in the shop, not touching you until you let him, telling a man from your past to walk out because you were finished with him.
You squeezed his hand.
โI want to.โ
Johnโs grin came back, bright and boyish for half a second before he leaned down and kissed you again, less careful this time but no less sweet.
Behind the glass, Arthur shouted something neither of you could hear.
summary; Enemies with a deal: play the perfect couple for one week. But in the heart of Texas, under one roof and one lie too manyโฆ They forget where the act ends and the feelings begin.
word count; 4.1k
warnings; fake dating au, enemies to lovers, age gap (reader is in her late twenties, jake's in his late thirties), smut, oral (fem receiving), jake has a praise kink, reader has mommy issues (too self-indulgent haha), slight angst, happy ending
a/n; i originally had planned for reader to freak out and leave jake but i decided i wouldn't make y'all suffer so i went for a happier path, also can you notice i took a page out of glen's set it up's book? haha. this is the final part of the series, thank you so much for reading and commenting and reblogging, it made my day <3
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You didnโt talk about the kiss.
Not when Jake backed you into the guest room like a man on a mission. Not when the door clicked shut behind him with a soft finality. And definitely not when you shoved him back by the shoulders until he hit the mattress and stared up at you like youโd just rewritten the laws of gravity.
โIโm on top tonight,โ you said, breathless but firm, planting a knee on the bed beside him. โKeep your hands to yourself until I say.โ
Jake huffed a laugh even as he obeyed, hands lifted in mock surrender. โBossy pants really is your final form.โ
โYouโre lucky I let you talk at all,โ you muttered, already reaching for his shirt. โNow lift.โ
He did โ with zero hesitation, smirking the whole time โ and as the fabric peeled away, your hands froze halfway up his stomach.
โJesus,โ you whispered.
โWhat?โ His grin widened.
โDo you live at the gym?โ
Jake arched a brow and flexed, just to be a menace. โGotta look good when my fake girlfriend demands performance excellence.โ
You rolled your eyes, shoving the shirt over his head โ and he chuckled until you shoved him backward, straddling his hips in one smooth movement.
Jake exhaled hard through his nose, smirk faltering just slightly when you leaned down and kissed a slow, confident line from his throat to his collarbone.
โYouโre going to let me take my time,โ you said into his skin, โand youโre going to keep that mouth shut unless youโre begging.โ
He swallowed. โThis is some lawyer dominance fantasy, isnโt it?โ
โMaybe,โ you said, kissing just under his jaw. โBut youโre not complaining.โ
Jakeโs breath hitched. โNot even a little.โ
You undressed slowly, methodically, taking pleasure in the way his gaze darkened with every inch of skin revealed. And when you reached for him โ still in command, still fully in control โ he hissed softly, hips stuttering beneath you.
โI said still,โ you reminded him, voice just above a whisper. โWe do this my way.โ
Jake groaned low in his throat. โGod, youโre going to ruin me.โ
โThatโs the plan.โ
You leaned down again and kissed him hard, grinding your hips into his until he broke, one hand gripping the sheets like it was the only thing keeping him tethered to the earth.
He let you take your time โ let you guide his hands, his mouth, his body โ until the teasing tension that had simmered between you for weeks snapped like a live wire.
And still, you kept control.
Even when his hands clutched at your hips and his mouth fell open against your shoulder. Even when his voice finally broke, a pleading groan tumbling out of him: โPlease. Please. Tell me what you want.โ
You smiled โ slow, smug, triumphant.
โI want your mouth,โ you whispered, voice low and warm. โAnd I want you to keep your eyes on me while you do it.โ
Jake was a pilot โ trained under pressure, calm under fire โ but when he dropped to his knees at the edge of the bed and dragged you forward with careful, reverent hands, he looked anything but composed.
And when his mouth met your skin, your hands tangled in his hair, and your voice spilled out louder than you meant it to โ he groaned again, holding your thighs tight as you moved against him, deeper into every flick of his tongue, every slow draw of his mouth.
โYouโreโGod, youโreโโ you gasped, losing the thread of thought as heat licked through you like wildfire.
โSay it,โ he murmured between strokes. โTell me Iโm good.โ
You gave a breathless laugh. โYouโre fine. Adequate.โ
Jake growled โ low and dangerous โ and suddenly, he was devouring you with a hunger that had your head spinning and your knees locking around his shoulders. You tried to maintain control, tried to hold on to the power youโd claimed โ but it splintered, deliciously, until all you could do was whisper his name like a prayer.
And when you collapsed back against the pillows, breathless and shaking, he crawled up beside you, lips slick and eyes alight with pride.
โYouโre impossible,โ you managed.
โI live to serve.โ
You stared at the ceiling, still catching your breath.
Then, very quietly: โThat wasโฆ the first time anyoneโs everโฆโ
Jake stilled.
His head turned slowly toward you, surprise flickering behind his expression.
โYouโre serious?โ
You nodded, suddenly self-conscious. โGuys my age donโt usually care aboutโโ
Jake was already sliding down the bed again.
You blinked, startled. โJake.โ
He looked up from where heโd nestled between your thighs again, eyes very serious now.
โWeโre doing that again.โ
โJakeโโ
โIโm making up for lost time.โ
โJakeโโ
His mouth cut off your protest.
And after that, all you could do was say his name.
Again.
And again.
-
The room was dark now, save for the moonlight slipping through the curtains, casting soft shadows on the wall. The sounds of crickets outside had replaced the quiet chaos that had filled the room earlier. Jake lay on his back, breathing steady, one arm tucked behind his head, the other wrapped securely around you.
You were curled against his side, warm and soft, your cheek resting against his chest as if it had always belonged there. Your legs were tangled with his beneath the sheets, and you hadnโt moved since you collapsed beside him โ flushed and breathless and laughing quietly into his shoulder.
You traced light, absentminded shapes on his stomach with your fingers, drawing lazy lines over the ridges of muscle like you werenโt utterly aware of the effect it was having on him.
โSay something,โ you murmured, voice low, almost shy.
Jake looked down at you, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. โLike what?โ
โI donโt know,โ you said, face still hidden against his chest. โSomething to distract me from the fact that I might have just rocked your world.โ
He laughed โ a quiet, genuine sound that rumbled under your ear. โYouโre so modest.โ
You tilted your head up to glance at him, your brows raised. โAm I wrong?โ
He stared at you for a beat, then shook his head slowly. โNot even a little.โ
There was a flicker of smugness in your smile, but it softened just as quickly as it came, and Jake saw it. Saw the way your bravado ebbed into something gentler, quieter. Not gone โ justโฆ muted.
Heโd never seen you like this. Still sharp-tongued, still smart as hell, but not putting on a show. Just you. Hair messy, cheek pressed to his bare chest, your fingers still tracing faint circles along his ribs like you didnโt even realize you were doing it.
Jake swallowed hard.
He was in trouble.
Because you were funny, and brilliant, and a little terrifying in a courtroom โ but this? This softer side of you, peeking out just for him?
It gutted him.
โYouโre staring,โ you muttered without looking up.
โIโm thinking,โ he replied, his voice quieter now.
You gave him a sideways glance, playful. โDangerous.โ
Jake didnโt smile this time. Not fully. โI just realized I donโt really know when it stopped feeling fake.โ
Your eyes flickered to his face, some quip clearly forming โ but you didnโt say it. Not yet. Not when his hand moved gently over your hip, his thumb brushing along your skin.
He was still looking at you like you were something to be studied. Admired. Wanted.
You cleared your throat and shifted slightly, your hand landing on his chest again. โCareful, Lieutenant. If you keep talking like that, I might start thinking youโre in love with me.โ
Jake gave a short, quiet laugh โ but it didnโt reach his eyes.
He was.
He was in love with you, and it scared the hell out of him.
Instead of saying it, he pulled you closer, resting his chin on top of your head. You let him. Even curled a little tighter against his chest, your body fitting against his like you were carved for this exact moment.
You didnโt say anything for a while.
Just lay there, his heartbeat under your ear, the soft warmth of his hand on your back.
Thenโ
โDonโt get used to this,โ you said casually, voice muffled against his chest. โIโm still sleeping on the opposite side of the bed tomorrow night.โ
Jake grinned into your hair. โRight. Strictly business.โ
โVery strict.โ
โAnd we definitely didnโt just break half a dozen fake-relationship clauses.โ
โClause 9 said no oral fixation,โ you added, deadpan. โThat oneโs out the window.โ
Jake snorted.
You looked up again, resting your chin on his chest now. โWhat timeโs the wedding tomorrow?โ
He exhaled, brushing a strand of hair off your face. โMid-afternoon. My mom already cried twice today thinking about it.โ
You smiled softly, then went quiet again.
Jake studied you โ this you, without the armor, without the sarcasm to shield every vulnerable thought โ and he wanted to kiss you again. Not because of lust this time, not even because of the thrill of sneaking around.
But because he didnโt want to stop kissing you. Ever.
But he didnโt.
Instead, he let you fall asleep first, tucked warm and safe against him, your breathing slow and even. And when your hand twitched in your sleep โ the same way it always did when you were overwhelmed โ Jake didnโt let go.
He just held you tighter.
And somewhere in the back of his mind, that little voice returned.
This isnโt fake anymore.
He was in love with you.
And tomorrow, heโd have to watch you walk beside him into a wedding that wasnโt yours โ smile like it didnโt hurt, pretend like it didnโt mean more than it was supposed to.
He kissed your forehead softly, barely a whisper of a touch.
โDonโt get used to it,โ he murmured.
But he already had.
-
The Seresin house was buzzing with the quiet hum of a slow Sunday morning, all sun-drenched windows and the distant sound of birdsong. Outside, the Texas heat was already licking at the horizon, but inside, the air was cool, calm, and touched with something expectant.
Jake was ready.
Showered, shaved, and tailored within an inch of his life in a crisp dark suit. His tie was already knotted, shoes polished, cufflinks in place. He rarely dressed like this anymore โ the Navy didnโt exactly demand black tie on the tarmac โ but he wore it well, the sharp lines of the suit emphasizing his broad frame and golden skin.
He stood in the living room with his mother, who was adjusting the final touches on her pearl earrings, when he glanced toward the stairs.
You still werenโt down.
He checked his watch.
Not because he was in a hurry. He wasnโt. In fact, he couldโve waited all day if it meant seeing you walk down those stairs.
He didnโt know what dress youโd chosen. He didnโt even know if youโd let him zip it up like you did with your cocktail dress a few nights ago. But he knewโknewโyouโd look like sin wrapped in silk.
โWhere is that girl of yours?โ his mother mused, slipping on her heels. โIโm about to go upstairs and drag her down myself.โ
Jake opened his mouth to respondโ
But then the soft click of the bedroom door opened above them.
He turned toward the stairs.
And the world? It stopped.
You descended slowly, one hand lightly trailing along the polished banister, your other gathering the skirt of your dress just slightly so it wouldnโt trip under your heels. The fabric shimmered like liquid obsidian with every movement โ that kind of black that held hints of silver where the sun hit it. It clung to you like it had been painted on, hugging every dip, every curve, strapless and daring, the hem brushing just at your ankles.
But it wasnโt just the dress.
It was you.
Hair swept up loosely, a few curls framing your face. Eyes lined with something smoky and magnetic. Lips a soft rose. Poised. Elegant. Devastating.
Jakeโs breath caught in his throat.
You smiled when you caught his gaze โ and not just a regular smile. It was cheeky, the kind of smile that hinted you knew exactly what you were doing to him. You paused on the second-to-last step, pivoted just enough to give them a view of the plunging back of your gown โ a graceful scoop that dipped scandalously low, exposing the smooth plane of your back down to the small of it.
โToo much?โ you asked innocently, looking over your shoulder.
Jake blinked, then cleared his throat.
His mother let out a delighted gasp. โOh, sweetheart,โ she gushed, hand over her heart. โYou look stunning. Doesnโt she, Jake?โ
Jake nodded slowly, still staring. โYeah,โ he said, voice rough. โYeah, she does.โ
You turned fully then, descending the last few steps, and Jake stepped forward instinctively to offer you his hand โ like it was second nature. You took it, steadying yourself, letting your fingers linger in his a little longer than necessary.
โGuess I clean up well,โ you said softly, eyes flicking up to meet his.
He smirked, but it didnโt reach the cocky heights it usually did. It was quieter. More reverent. โYou donโt look like you belong at a wedding,โ he said, leaning just slightly closer.
โOh?โ
โYou look like youโre about to ruin one.โ
You arched a brow, lips twitching. โMaybe I am.โ
Jakeโs mother laughed as she grabbed her clutch. โAlright, lovebirds. Enough ogling. Letโs go pretend weโre not about to sit through the longest ceremony Texas has ever seen.โ
You and Jake followed her out the front door, the morning sun now high and bright. As he opened the passenger side door for you, you looked back at him, the barest smile still curving your lips.
โYouโre staring again,โ you said lightly.
Jake leaned in as you slid into your seat. โCanโt help it,โ he murmured, then winked. โMy girlfriendโs hot.โ
And before you could come up with a snappy reply, he closed the door with a grin and walked around to the driverโs side โ smug, flustered, and already dreading how much harder today just became.
Because if anyone thought heโd been acting before?
He was in real trouble now.
-
The church was filled with soft music and the rustle of lace and linen. Floral arrangements spilled from every pew in cascading whites and greens, and sunlight poured in through stained glass windows, casting jewel-toned shadows across the aisle. It was beautiful. Timeless. Perfect.
And Jake Seresin hadnโt heard a single word of the ceremony.
He sat rigid in the wooden pew, his hand resting on yours, his thumb stroking idle circles against your skin โ not like it was part of a show, not for appearances. Just because. Because he couldnโt seem to stop touching you.
You didnโt pull away.
You hadnโt in a while.
Your other hand sat gently on his knee, fingers curling ever so slightly against the fabric of his suit. Your dress shimmered when you shifted, drawing his eye like it always did โ like it had when you came down the stairs this morning and knocked the air straight out of his lungs.
And when you glanced at him, your eyes soft and lit with something he couldnโt name, it hit him all over again.
You were supposed to be fake.
But there was nothing false about the way he felt right now. Nothing fabricated in the way his pulse stuttered when you leaned into him during the vows, your shoulder brushing his. No script in the way your fingers sought his when Lila walked down the aisle, radiant and smiling and already someone elseโs.
He looked at her only once.
And then, almost involuntarily, he turned back to you.
You didnโt say anything. Just gave him the smallest of glances, your lips quirking softly, like you knew. Like you'd known all along that this โ whatever this was โ had long since stopped being pretend.
He didnโt say anything either. But his hand slid from yours and cupped your thigh instead, fingers spreading over the silk fabric, a quiet claim. And you didnโt flinch. You didnโt glance around to see who was watching. You just leaned your head against his shoulder โ bold and sure and entirely yours.
Jake tilted his head just enough to brush his lips against your hair.
The world kept moving around you. The vows were exchanged, the kiss was sealed, the audience clapped politely.
Jake barely noticed.
He was too focused on the way your hand had wandered to the inside of his arm, how your nails lightly traced the seam of his jacket. The way your perfume had soaked into his shirt from leaning on him, leaving a scent that he was beginning to crave.
There was no line anymore. No point where the act had ended and the real feelings had begun.
He didnโt even know when it happened โ maybe somewhere between that first fake kiss in front of the neighbors or the time you fell asleep on his shoulder during the drive back from town. Maybe when you teased him about mowing the lawn shirtless. Or when he kissed you just to shut you up by the stables โ and then didnโt stop.
Maybe it was now.
Now, when you turned to face him during the reception, your heels kicked off beneath the table, your chin resting in your hand as you looked at him like there was no one else in the room. Like you meant it.
He didnโt kiss you then. Not yet.
But he took your hand again, raised it to his mouth, and pressed a kiss to your knuckles like it was a secret just for you.
Your lips parted slightly, surprised.
He didnโt say a word.
And neither did you.
Because you both knew now.
-
The reception was winding down in a haze of soft lights and clinking glasses. Out on the lawn, the air was warm and heavy with the scent of honeysuckle, the murmur of conversation fading beneath the gentle chords of a slow country song floating from the speakers. Twinkle lights hung like constellations between the trees, flickering above the dance floor.
And you were in Jakeโs arms.
He held you close, one hand resting firmly against the small of your back โ your bare back, where the silk of your dress gave way to warm skin. His other hand curled around yours, fingers laced together like it was second nature now. Your palm pressed to his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath it.
You danced in slow circles beneath the stars. The world had gone quiet, the chaos of the day falling away until there was only this โ the warmth of his touch, the weight of his gaze, the hush of his breath so close to yours.
He hadnโt looked away. Not once.
Tilting your head, you caught the way his eyes drank you in like you were the only thing worth seeing. It wasnโt lust. Not entirely. It was something heavier. Warmer. Familiar.
โWhat?โ you asked softly, voice barely carrying over the music. โYouโre staring.โ
Jake didnโt smile. Not right away.
He just looked at you like he wanted to memorize the moment. Like he already had.
โYeah,โ he said finally, his voice low, rough. โI am.โ
You huffed a soft breath, lips curling, trying for lightness. โWeโre not in character right now, you know. No oneโs watching.โ
โI know.โ
Your fingers tightened slightly against his chest.
And something passed between you โ a crackling, quiet understanding. A shift so subtle it didnโt need to be spoken. Because somewhere between the pretending and the playing house, the little lies and practiced kisses, you had both fallen out of step with the story youโd been telling.
This wasnโt part of the plan anymore.
And still โ neither of you let go.
Jake leaned in, his forehead brushing yours, his breath mingling with yours in the warm night air. โYou drool when you fall asleep on planes,โ he murmured.
You blinked. โExcuse me?โ
โAnd you organize your closet by color, but your suitcase is a goddamn war zone.โ
You stared, caught off guard by the teasing glint in his eye, the softness under it.
โJakeโฆโ
โI like how you always try to act unimpressed when I say something nice, but your ears go a little pink every time.โ His thumb brushed slow circles against your back, grounding you. โDrives me insane, darlinโ. In the best way.โ
Heat rose in your chest, threatening to spill over. โWhy are you saying all this?โ
His eyes darkened, serious now. โBecause if I donโt, Iโll regret it for the rest of my life.โ
The ache in your ribs sharpened. โYou donโt mean thatโโ
โI do.โ His grip tightened like he was afraid you might slip away. โYou know what I meant when I said you donโt belong at weddings?โ
You arched a brow, trying for levity even as your pulse thundered. โCharming.โ
Jake shook his head, gaze locked to yours. โYou belong wrecking them. You walk in, and everything changes. Every time. You changed everything for me.โ
Silence stretched, weighted and fragile.
Your voice cracked when you whispered, โYou know what scares me the most? That none of this was ever fake.โ
Jake exhaled, shaky, like heโd been holding it in for weeks. โI donโt think it ever was.โ
The words rooted in you, took hold, bloomed.
And you knew you couldnโt hide anymore.
โYou drive me insane most of the time, you know that?โ Jake finally said, voice low, the words half-laugh, half-confession. โYouโre bossy as hell, stubborn to a fault, and you wouldnโt survive more than twenty-four hours out here in Texas without someone killing the spiders for you.โ
Your mouth dropped open, offended, but before you could snap back he leaned closer, cutting off the space between you.
โAnd I love you for it,โ Jake added, softer now, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. โI love the way you roll your eyes at me. I love that you try to tell me what to do even though I never listen. I love that you hate country music but you still danced with me at the cookout, even when you stepped on my boots a dozen times. I love that you make me laugh when I donโt want to, and I love that youโre hereโright nowโwith me.โ
His thumb brushed your jaw, gentle. โI love you, even when youโre annoying as fuck. Especially then, actually.โ
You blinked, your throat tight, your chest pulling in that aching, hopeful way that made everything else in the world fall away.
โI love you too,โ you whispered back, almost breathless.
The smile that spread across Jakeโs face in that moment was the kind of thing people wrote love songs about.
Relief to finally say it crashed through you like a tide, mingling with laughter that trembled out of your chest, half-sob, half-joy.
Jake lifted your joined hands and kissed your knuckles, lingering, reverent. No audience this time. No lie to sell.
Just him. Just you.
And then, slowly, like gravity itself had shifted, he dipped his head and kissed you. His hand tightened on your back, pulling you in as your fingers curled into the lapel of his suit. Your mouths met again and again, gentle and then not, smiling into it like two people who had finally stopped running.
When you broke apart, his forehead stayed pressed to yours, both of you breathless, both of you grinning like fools.
โSay it again,โ he whispered.
โI love you.โ
He smiled โ that rare, unguarded smile that reached his eyes. โGood. Because Iโm not letting you take it back.โ
And beneath the twinkle lights, wrapped in his arms, you knew you never would.
summary; Enemies with a deal: play the perfect couple for one week. But in the heart of Texas, under one roof and one lie too manyโฆ They forget where the act ends and the feelings begin.
word count; 3.2k
warnings; fake dating au, enemies to lovers, age gap (reader is in her late twenties, jake's in his late thirties), reader has mommy issues (too self-indulgent haha), slight angst, happy ending
a/n; so sorry for the delay!!! i had to rewrite this part because i wasn't sure of the ending. THERE WILL BE A FIFTH PART!!! ๐ซถ๐ป
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The boot store smelled like leather and sawdust and something deeply, irrevocably Western. Like the moment you crossed the threshold, some unseen force whispered yeehaw directly into your soul.
The place was huge. Rows upon rows of boots, belts, and hats lined the walls like the worldโs most aggressive country music museum. A taxidermy longhorn head stared at you with judgment from above the cashierโs desk, and Johnny Cash crooned softly through dusty overhead speakers.
You didnโt just stick out โ you looked like youโd wandered in from an entirely different movie.
Jakeโs mom, on the other hand, was in her element. She was already halfway across the store, beckoning you excitedly toward a display. โThese just came in, sweetheart! Letโs start here!โ
You followed dutifully, trying not to wobble in your loafers. โDo they come inโฆ black patent leather?โ
Jake snorted. โNo, but maybe if you ask nicely, theyโll bedazzle a pair for you.โ
You shot him a look, grabbed a boot with rhinestones and threatened him with it.
โCareful,โ he grinned. โThatโs a weapon in the wrong hands.โ
โThis is the wrong hands,โ you deadpanned.
Jake leaned against a nearby shelf, arms crossed, watching you with unconcealed amusement. โYou gonna survive this, city mouse?โ
โIโve done worse,โ you said, managing to tug one boot onto your foot. โI survived bar prep.โ
โSure,โ he said. โBut did bar prep require decorative stitching and steel toes?โ
You wobbled slightly as you stood, adjusting the boot. โI look ridiculous.โ
โYou lookโฆโ Jake trailed off as he took you in, one hand casually sliding into his pocket, head tilted. โ...like you just got cast in a reboot of Bonanza.โ
You flipped him off behind his motherโs back. He laughed like youโd complimented him.
โTry this pair too,โ his mom said, handing you another set of boots. You tried those. And then another. You were half-wearing one when she suddenly appeared with a wide-brimmed straw hat and dropped it right onto your head.
โOh, God,โ you muttered. โItโs happening. Iโm being converted.โ
Jake turned around from another aisle just in time to see you standing in front of the mirror: boots on, jeans tucked in, wide-brim hat sitting low over your eyes.
He froze for a second. Just one.
Then he smiled โ and it was soft. Real.
โYou actuallyโฆโ he said, stepping closer, โlook kind of adorable.โ
Your eyebrows shot up. โAdorable?โ
โAdorably lost,โ he amended, smirking again. โLike if you wandered onto a ranch, someone would probably take pity and feed you.โ
You rolled your eyes but smiled despite yourself. โWhat a glowing review.โ
Jake stepped beside you in the mirror, leaned down a little, and pressed a kiss to the side of your head โ feather-light, familiar, way too natural for what was supposed to be a charade.
Your eyes flicked up to meet his in the mirror. For a heartbeat, it was quiet between you. His hand brushed your lower back. Your mouth felt dry.
โAlright,โ you said finally, clearing your throat and turning away. โBoots acquired. I now possess one percent cowboy energy.โ
Jake grinned. โIโm proud of you, Boston.โ
And thenโ
โOh my God, Jake?โ
You both turned in unison.
A woman stood at the edge of the aisle, her blonde hair catching the light, eyes bright and familiar in a way that immediately made your stomach knot. She was exactly what you wouldโve pictured if someone had asked you to draw โJakeโs typeโ: the kind of girl every Southern boy wrote love songs about โ sweet and sun-kissed, a sundress skimming her frame like sheโd just stepped out of a Nicholas Sparks adaptation.
Jake went still beside you. His shoulders tensed, his jaw ticked. โLila.โ
So this was her.
The ex. The reason you were even standing here in a borrowed pair of boots.
You caught it instantly โ the flash of discomfort he didnโt quite hide, the subtle way his stance shifted like heโd braced for impact. She, of course, looked completely unbothered, as if running into him was the most casual thing in the world.
โItโs been forever,โ she said with a soft laugh, closing the space between them. Her voice was light, teasing, just a touch too warm. โWow. Look at you.โ
Jakeโs charm flickered back on like muscle memory, his drawl sliding into place. โYeah, itโs been a while.โ
Her eyes drifted, curious, polite โ and then landed on you. Thatโs when your pulse jumped.
Showtime.
Sliding an arm around Jakeโs waist, you pressed yourself flush against his side, tilting your chin just enough to meet her gaze with your most flawless, practiced smile.
โHi,โ you said smoothly, following with your name. Then, with a playful little shrug, you added, โAlthough I donโt know if my name really fits my new cowgirl personality.โ
Jake blinked, caught off guard. For one half-second, you saw the corner of his mouth twitch โ admiration, maybe amusement โ before he recovered, his arm curling over your shoulders, tugging you in closer. His thumb began brushing slow, lazy circles on your upper arm, and you almost flinched at how convincing it felt.
โMomโs converting her,โ he said lightly. โOne boot at a time.โ
Lilaโs smile brightened, though you didnโt miss the faint flicker in her eyes as she studied you both. โThatโs so great. Itโs nice to meet you. Iโm Lila.โ
You extended your hand with a saccharine smile that screamed I win. โPleasure. Iโm Jakeโs girlfriend.โ
Jake didnโt correct you, didnโt even hesitate. Just smiled that easy Seresin smile โ and pressed his thumb into your shoulder in a slow, appreciative circle that nearly gave you away.
Lila glanced between the two of you โ evaluating, weighing, maybe even doubting โ but her expression never cracked from pleasant perfection.
โWell,โ she said finally, with a little wave. โIโll see you both at the wedding.โ
โCanโt wait,โ you said sweetly.
Only when she was gone did you realize how tightly you were still holding onto Jake.
You waited until she was truly gone before pulling away from Jake, crossing your arms. โWell. That was fun.โ
Jake exhaled, still smiling faintly. โYouโre scary when you commit.โ
You turned to him. โYou hesitated.โ
Jake blinked. โIโwhat?โ
โYou hesitated before you introduced me.โ
โI did not.โ
โYou absolutely did. There was a pause.โ
Jake squinted at you. โAre we seriously debriefing this like itโs a courtroom cross?โ
You arched an eyebrow. โYouโre welcome, by the way. I sold the hell out of that.โ
Jake smiled again, and this time, it was something different โ softer, edged with something warm and unreadable.
โYeah,โ he said. โYou really did.โ
-
The next few days played out like a highlight reel from a romantic comedy โ the kind with the perfectly curated soundtrack and golden-hour lighting, where no one talked about their feelings but every glance said too much.
It started innocently enough.
Jake had the audacity to look comfortable in every situation โ whether he was helping his mom haul firewood like a walking Leviโs ad, or teasing you mercilessly when you stepped outside in your city sneakers again and promptly sank into the mud.
โYouโre not even trying to blend in,โ he laughed, steadying you by the elbow as you flailed.
โThis place is trying to kill me,โ you hissed, gripping his arm for balance. โIt smells like hay and lies.โ
So, naturally, he offered to teach you to ride a horse.
It went about as well as anyone couldโve predicted.
The sun was low and golden over his momโs pasture, cicadas buzzing lazily in the heat. Jake stood in the middle of the fenced paddock like heโd been born there, reins in hand, ball cap tipped back, grinning at you like this was his lifeโs true purpose.
You, on the other hand, were perched stiffly on top of a patient old mare named Clementine, clinging to the saddle horn as if it were your only lifeline.
โRelax,โ Jake called, giving Clementineโs flank a light pat. โShe can sense fear.โ
โShe should,โ you snapped, knuckles white on the leather. โIโm broadcasting it loud and clear.โ
His grin widened, dimples flashing. โSheโs the sweetest horse on the ranch. My cousins learned to ride on her. Sheโs practically a saint.โ
โThen maybe she can also perform miracles,โ you muttered, shifting like the saddle itself was plotting against you. โBecause Iโm going to die.โ
Jake leaned against the fence, looking infuriatingly at ease. โCity girl like you? Dying in boots? Thatโs a Texas tragedy.โ
โKeep laughing,โ you warned, โbut if I fall off and break my neck, Iโm haunting you.โ
โWouldnโt mind,โ he said smoothly, eyes raking over you in a way that made your stomach flip. โMight even enjoy the company.โ
Your retort was lost the second Clementine shifted under you. You yelped, clutching at the saddle horn with all the dignity of a kid on a carnival ride. Jake bit down on a laugh, which only made it worse.
โDonโt you dareโโ
โRelax,โ he repeated, moving closer. โLoosen up your knees, stop gripping like youโre in a rollercoaster harness. Horses arenโt machines, darlinโ. You gotta work with her.โ
โI am working with her,โ you hissed. โIโm negotiating the terms of my survival.โ
It took all of thirty seconds for your stubborn determination to collapse. You slid gracelessly off the horse, landing on shaky legs. Clementine gave a bored snort as if to say amateur.
Jake was there in an instant, catching you as you stumbled. Strong hands closed around your waist, steadying you before you could faceplant into the dirt. His face was suddenly far too close, breath warm against your cheek, eyes gleaming with that insufferable mix of amusement and something heavier.
โCity girlโs got soft bones,โ he drawled softly, voice pitched just for you.
You shoved at his chest, cheeks burning. โShut up.โ
He didnโt. Not even close. Jake just laughed, that wide, easy sound that carried all the way across the field. His hand lingered at your waist longer than necessary, thumb brushing your side before he finally stepped back.
โDonโt worry,โ he said, cocky as ever. โWeโll toughen you up before the weddingโs over.โ
You glared, brushing dirt off your jeans. โPretty sure the only thing getting tougher is my patience.โ
โPatience?โ His grin turned slow, knowing. โSweetheart, youโve got more grit than you think. And donโt worryโโ he tipped his hat at you like some insufferable cowboy out of a movie, โโIโll be right here to catch you every time you fall.โ
You hated that your heart skipped at that. You hated even more that he noticed.
And he didnโt stop smiling for the rest of the day.
Later that evening, he found you wrapped in a blanket in front of the stone fireplace, eyes narrowed as you patted the spot beside you on the rug.
โItโs for the fantasy,โ you told him primly.
Jake raised a brow. โCuddling by the fire?โ
โItโs romantic,โ you argued. โWeโre in love, remember?โ
Jake had chuckled low in his throat โ but heโd joined you anyway, settling behind you, arms wrapping around your waist like it was muscle memory.
And, okay โ you hadnโt expected it to feel that nice. His chest was warm against your back. His chin fit perfectly over your shoulder. He smelled like firewood and pine and something deep and comforting that you refused to label.
The flames popped in the hearth. He played with your fingers. Neither of you spoke.
-
Breakfast on the porch, his mother watching you both from the kitchen with a pleased little smile while Jake slid your coffee mug closer and you offered him a bite of your toast.
You trying on an old denim jacket of his from high school โ a bet you lost after attempting to learn line dancing at a neighborhood event his mom roped you into. Jake clutched his stomach from laughing too hard, claiming you looked like a โfive-foot-tall ranch hand with no spatial awareness.โ
You threw a boot at him.
And then one evening, she pulled you aside. Hands soft, warm, steady against your arm. Her voice quiet in the way that made it feel like a secret.
โI havenโt seen him like this in years,โ she said, eyes crinkling with something tender. โNot since before his daddy passed. Youโve brought him back to life, sweetheart.โ
Your mouth went dry. โIโฆ I donโt know if thatโs true.โ
โIt is.โ She smiled, slow and certain. โHe used to laugh like this all the time. Teasing, showing off, always with that big grin plastered on his face. After we lost his daddy, it justโฆ disappeared. For a long time. But this week?โ She squeezed your arm gently. โThat boy has light in him again. And I can see it plain as day โ youโre the reason.โ
You tried to laugh, but it came out uneven. โMaybe itโs just being home.โ
โNo, darling.โ Her voice was kind, but it left no room for doubt. โItโs you. He looks at you the way his daddy used to look at me. Like the sun came back up after the longest night.โ
You didnโt know what to say.
You couldnโt find words. Not when guilt pressed heavy in your chest. Because it wasnโt real. None of it was real.
She studied your silence for a moment, then her hand softened into a gentle pat. โJustโฆ promise me something, will you?โ
Your throat tightened. โWhatโs that?โ
โDonโt break his heart,โ she whispered, almost pleading. โHe gives it away too easily, even if he pretends otherwise. And youโฆ well, youโre the first girl in a long time Iโve seen him let close.โ
It felt like a knife twisting. You managed a nod, your smile too tight, too rehearsed. โI wonโt.โ
But the words burned as soon as they left your mouth.
Because you werenโt sure you could keep them.
-
The house was too loud.
Too warm. Too kind.
Jakeโs mom had spent the entire evening practically glued to your side โ refilling your glass, showing you old photos of Jake in Little League, asking questions about your job and your favorite foods and your family with so much genuine maternal interest that your skin itched from the weight of it.
She was just... sweet. Honest. She looked at you like she already knew you and loved you anyway.
You couldnโt take it.
The night air was cool and still, the kind of quiet that wrapped around your shoulders like a wool blanket. You wandered without really thinking, ending up near the stables, where the fence creaked in the breeze and the scent of hay clung to everything.
It was so different from anything youโd ever known.
You wrapped your arms around yourself and stared out into the dark pasture, the grass silvered under the moonlight, and let your thoughts get too loud.
You were lying to a woman who had done nothing but be kind to you.
You were pretending to love a man who was โ infuriatingly โ starting to feel less like a prop in this charade and more like a crack in the wall youโd spent years reinforcing.
And worst of all?
You liked this. All of it. The chaos. The sweetness. The quiet. The way Jake looked at you like he knew something you didnโt.
You didnโt belong in this life. But God, you wanted to taste it anyway.
โThought I might find you out here,โ came his voice, low and steady behind you.
You didnโt turn around. โI needed some air.โ
Jake stepped closer, boots crunching the gravel, his silhouette tall against the barn lights. โYou disappeared.โ
You shrugged. โYou were busy. Your momโs got stories for days.โ
Jake let a silence settle between you. Then:
โShe really likes you, you know.โ
You exhaled, something bitter catching in your throat. โThatโs kind of the problem.โ
Jakeโs brow furrowed. โWhat are you talking about?โ
You finally turned, facing him, the porch light cutting a soft glow across his face. He looked concerned. Not annoyed. Just โ confused. Like he didnโt get what the big deal was.
You hated that it made your chest ache.
โSheโs great, Jake,โ you said, voice tight. โYour mom is... everything a mother should be. And weโre justโโ You waved a hand, heat blooming in your face. โWeโre lying to her.โ
Jakeโs jaw tightened. โItโs just for the week.โ
โYeah, and then what? We leave, and she keeps thinking youโre in love and that Iโm her future daughter-in-law andโโ
He cut in. โWe agreed to this.โ
โI know we did,โ you snapped, voice cracking. โBut I didnโt expect her to be soโso kind. So interested. And now it feels like Iโm just spitting in her face every time she looks at me like Iโm someone worthโโ
You stopped yourself, but it was too late.
Jake was staring.
His voice softened. โIs this about your mom?โ
You froze.
Jake took a step forward. โBack at the apartment... you said she wasnโt really affectionate. That she wasnโtโโ
โI didnโt say anything,โ you said quickly. โYou assumed.โ
Jake tilted his head. โIโve met enough people to recognize when someone doesnโt know how to accept love.โ
The words hit too close. Too sharp. You blinked hard.
โShe would neverโโ Your voice shook. โMy mom would never do any of this. She wouldnโt throw a cookout. Or hang up baby pictures. She didnโt even hug me growing up, Jake.โ
You were unraveling now. Words slipping out faster than you could stop them.
โShe told me crying was manipulative. She said affection made you weak. And your momโshe just...โ You shook your head, throat burning. โShe asks if I slept okay and makes breakfast and tells me sheโs proud of me andโand it makes me want to scream because itโs not real. None of this is real.โ
Jake was silent.
You looked up at him, heart racing. โAnd you just go along with it like itโs nothing. Like this doesnโt matter. Like weโre not justโlying to this woman who would probably adopt me if you asked.โ
Jakeโs gaze was unreadable.
You breathed hard, hands curling into fists at your sides.
โI didnโt sign up to feel guilty about this,โ you whispered. "I think we shouldโ"
And then, without warningโ
Jake stepped forward, grabbed your face with both hands, and kissed you.
Hard.
Desperate.
It was not gentle. It was not polite. It was not fake.
You made a startled noise against his mouth, but he didnโt stop. One hand slid into your hair, the other stayed cradling your jaw, and he kissed you like it was the only way he could shut you up. Like if he didnโt, heโd explode.
And God help you โ you kissed him back.
You curled your fingers in the front of his shirt and pulled him closer, let yourself melt against him like it was natural, like it was inevitable. The night air pressed cool against your skin, but Jakeโs mouth was fire, and everything tilted sideways the longer it went on.
Finally, finally, he pulled back, forehead resting against yours, breath ragged.
โYou talk too damn much,โ he muttered.
You didnโt say anything.
You couldnโt.
Because something had just shifted โ deep and final and terrifying.
And you werenโt sure pretending could save you anymore.
summary; Enemies with a deal: play the perfect couple for one week. But in the heart of Texas, under one roof and one lie too manyโฆ They forget where the act ends and the feelings begin.
word count; 5.4k
warnings; fake dating au, enemies to lovers, age gap (reader is in her late twenties, jake's in his late thirties) smut, oral (fem receiving), jake has a praise kink, reader has mommy issues (too self-indulgent haha), slight angst, happy ending
a/n; part 3!! this is soooo the proposal meets probably every single enemies to lovers romcom there is just because i'm actually obsessed with that movie and romcoms in general
series masterlist
masterlist
The second Jake pulled into the long gravel driveway and killed the engine, you knew something wasโฆ off.
It wasnโt the house โ a wide, sun-bleached ranch-style home with a wraparound porch and hanging baskets of pink petunias swaying gently in the breeze. No, the house looked exactly like what youโd pictured.
It was the volume that gave you pause.
Voices. Dozens of them. Laughing. Shouting. Country music floated in the air, and was that the sizzle of a grill?
Jake frowned too, head tilted. โDid sheโ?โ
The front door slammed open.
โJacob Seresin, donโt you dare sit in that car another second and leave me waitinโ!โ
A woman in cropped jeans, a floral blouse, and pristine white sneakers was barreling down the porch steps, arms spread wide, her smile bright and unstoppable. Jakeโs mother.
You barely had time to open the passenger door before she was there, wrapping Jake in a tight, no-nonsense Southern hug that made his six-foot frame look like a childโs.
โHi, Mama,โ he said, laughing into her shoulder.
โI told you Iโd make peach cobbler and look at you, all late,โ she scolded, squeezing him one more time before turning toward you.
And thenโtarget acquired.
You barely had time to blink.
โOh, you must be his sweetheart,โ she beamed, and suddenly you were in her arms, her perfume (vanilla and something vaguely citrusy) enveloping you as she hugged like someone who had never once in her life done it halfway.
You tensed instinctively โ not used to warmth so immediate, so unfiltered โ but after a beat, your arms returned the gesture. Awkward. Soft. But real.
โIโmโhi,โ you managed.
โYou are darling, look at you,โ she said, stepping back just enough to cradle your face in her hands like you were a lost puppy. โJakeโs been holding out on us.โ
Jake coughed. โMama.โ
โDonโt you โMamaโ me, I had to hear about her through the phone!โ
โTechnicallyโโ Jake tried.
But she was already waving him off and turning back toward the porch. โNow come on. Everyoneโs waitinโ. Donโt keep your cousins in suspense.โ
You blinked. โEveryone?โ
And then you heard it โ more voices. Laughter. A child shrieking somewhere in the distance. Was thatโฆ lawn chairs clinking?
Jake winced, leaned close. โI think my mom threw a cookout.โ
You turned to him, wide-eyed. โLike, a welcome party?โ
He gave you a look that could only be described as deep, exhausted son energy. โShe texted me last night and said something about โjust the family stopping by.โ Which, for the record, means aunts, uncles, cousins, half the neighborhood, and probably the high school gym teacher who coached my JV football team.โ
Your jaw dropped.
He tried to smile. โYou can back out. Iโll say you got sick. Or jetlag. Orโโ
You squared your shoulders, lifted your chin, and said through gritted teeth, โYou owe me so much wine.โ
Jake blinked.
Then smirked. โYes, maโam.โ
โ
You lost count of how many people hugged you within the first ten minutes. Some of them kissed your cheek. One woman brought deviled eggs and referred to you exclusively as โthat pretty girl Jakeโs been hiding in California.โ Another cornered you by the sweet tea station and showed you Jakeโs baby pictures. Naked baby pictures.
You were hot, slightly sunburned, and fully overwhelmed. But you were also, miraculously, holding your own.
Your lawyer instincts kicked in โ charm, nod, mirror, distract โ and you leaned on the backstory like a crutch, filling in blanks with little lies that sounded like truth. You laughed when Jake made jokes, slid your hand into his when someone looked too closely. You let his arm rest casually along your waist as people asked where you met and how long youโd been dating and when you were planning on giving his mama grandbabies.
Jake, for his part, was surprisinglyโฆ easy. Steady. Every time he touched you, it was warm but never forceful. And every time you stumbled โ a name you couldnโt remember, a question you didnโt expect โ he was right there to redirect, to draw attention back to himself like he was built for it.
You were trying to stay focused, to keep the walls up, but Jakeโฆ Jake was looking at you differently.
It was subtle, almost imperceptible โ the way his eyes lingered for half a second longer when you pushed your sunglasses up your nose. The way his brow furrowed when you tugged at the hem of your blouse โ that nervous twitch of your fingers he mustโve clocked somewhere in the last hour. The way his lips quirked every time your nose scrunched in confusion.
He was noticing things.
Little things.
And suddenly, so were you.
Like the way he lowered his voice when he spoke directly to you, just enough that it felt private, like a secret. Or the way he subtly stood closer when someone asked a personal question, like he was buffering you from too much scrutiny.
You cleared your throat and stepped away to refill your lemonade.
Jake watched you go, eyes narrowing โ not with suspicion, but with something heavier. Something thoughtful.
โBoy,โ his motherโs voice floated beside him. โYou got a look on your face.โ
Jake turned, startled. โHuh?โ
She smiled, slipping a serving spoon into the coleslaw. โJust saying. You always get that squinty little forehead crease when youโre figuring something out.โ
He ran a hand over the back of his neck. โItโs hot out.โ
โMm-hmm,โ she said, not looking up. โYou're in love.โ
He made a face. โYouโve known each other five minutes.โ
His mother laughed. โJake, Iโve watched you go twenty years without bringinโ home so much as a girl you kissed under the bleachers. This oneโs different. I can tell.โ
Jake opened his mouth to deflect โ something witty, something smooth โ but nothing came out.
His mother patted his shoulder and walked off, humming.
Across the yard, you were laughing with one of his younger cousins, crouched in the grass in your red-bottom loafers like it wasnโt completely impractical. You had grass on your trousers, lemonade in your hand, and your smile โ genuine and rare โ was breaking across your face like sunlight.
Jake blinked.
Yeah.
This was a problem.
At some point between your third glass of sweet tea and the sixth person asking if Jake had finally proposed yet, the crowd began to thin. Or at least, they stopped swarming you like you were the newest baby goat at a petting zoo.
You took a breath. A real one.
Jake was on the patio now, talking to someone in a sheriffโs department polo who, if you heard correctly, used to be his high school wrestling partner. You watched him from your perch near the porch railing, the sun dipping low enough to cast everything in that warm, peach-colored glow.
You finished your drink, set it down, and plastered on the softest smile you could manage. Time to turn this into a performance again.
You sauntered over to where Jake stood, touched his arm lightly, and pitched your voice just loud enough for anyone within twenty feet to hear.
โHoney,โ you purred, lacing the word with the kind of sweetness that could send someone into a diabetic coma, โwould you mind bringing my luggage inside? I want to change out of these city clothes and into something a little moreโฆ barbecue-appropriate.โ
Jake didnโt miss a beat. โOf course, sweetheart.โ
You smiled. He smiled.
And in the exact same breath, under your teeth, you hissed, โYouโre lucky I donโt stab you with one of your momโs kebab skewers.โ
Jake, ever unfazed, leaned in just slightly, that shit-eating smirk curling at the edges of his mouth. โYouโd miss. Youโve got no upper body strength.โ
You smiled wider, waved at a passing aunt, and said through clenched teeth, โThatโs rich coming from the man who almost cried carrying my carry-on.โ
โAlmost,โ he said smugly, turning toward the driveway. โDidnโt. Key word.โ
You followed him across the grass and pretended not to hear the very audible chorus of โAwwwwโ from the lawn chairs as Jake opened the back of the rental SUV.
Your luggage spilled out like an overstuffed clown car.
Jake stopped and blinked at the lineup. โI still think this is a war crime.โ
You crossed your arms. โI told you, some of us like to be prepared.โ
โFor what? The apocalypse? Did you pack a wetsuit? Is there a flamethrower in here?โ
โTexas weather is unpredictable.โ
Jake grunted, heaving the first suitcase out. โYouโre unpredictable.โ
You leaned casually against the SUV. โYou know you love it.โ
He hauled another bag out, muttering something about airline weight limits and chiropractors, and started rolling them toward the house. The wheels snagged on the gravel twice, and you pretended not to hear the quiet stream of curses under his breath.
Behind you, someone actually whistled.
Jake glanced over his shoulder.
Half the party โ cousins, neighbors, some guy named Dale in cowboy boots โ was watching the two of you with open grins, eyes tracking every movement like it was a Hallmark Channel live taping.
You leaned closer to Jake and whispered, โWeโre being watched.โ
โI know,โ he whispered back. โPut your hand on my back. Make it look romantic.โ
You pressed your hand to the small of his back and smiled sweetly at the crowd. โHowโs that?โ
Jake grunted under the weight of your last suitcase. โPerfect. Nothing says romance like minor spinal injury.โ
You giggled, which startled you a little โ the sound felt genuine, too real for something that was supposed to be pretend.
By the time you reached the porch steps, Jake had a sheen of sweat on his forehead and was muttering something about โcity girls and their beauty productsโ as he lugged the last bag inside.
You stepped in behind him, the cool air of the house washing over your skin, and murmured, โYou know, I do appreciate this.โ
He turned, wiping a hand down his face. โWhat, me playing bellhop?โ
You gave him a faux-innocent look. โYou carrying all my emotional baggage too.โ
Jake stared at you for a beat, then snorted. โNah. Thatโs clearly a whole other checked bag.โ
You grinned, brushing past him into the hallway, calling over your shoulder, โIโm changing into something cute. Tell your mom to save me a slice of that peach cobbler.โ
Jake called back, โYou better wear something comfortable, because she also made you a plate of ribs the size of your torso.โ
You paused at the bottom of the stairs, turned back with a perfectly smug smile, and said, โCanโt wait to eat itโฆ sweetheart.โ
Jake groaned dramatically, turned toward the kitchen, and muttered, โLord help me, this womanโs gonna be the death of me.โ
From outside, through the still-cracked screen door, a voice called out from the lawn:
โYโALL ARE ADORABLE!โ
Jakeโs face went red.
You laughed all the way upstairs.
While you were upstairs navigating the jungle of your wardrobe options (and, letโs be honest, googling โwhat to wear to a Texas cookout without looking like a caricatureโ), Jake was in the kitchen, getting a drink and trying to remember which of his cousins had made that spicy jalapeรฑo dip that nearly melted his esophagus.
His mom stood at the stove, humming along to a country song playing softly from a little Bluetooth speaker, her pink apron dusted with flour and barbecue sauce, like a battle-worn flag from a culinary war.
โGo on and bring your bags in too, Jacob,โ she said casually, flipping something in the skillet.
Jake glanced up, mid-sip. โTo where?โ
She turned, eyebrows raised like it was the dumbest question sheโd heard all week. โTo the room.โ
Jake blinked. โThe room. As inโฆ the other guest room?โ
Her eyes sparkled with mischief. โNo, sweetheart. The room. The one yโallโll be sharing.โ
He lowered his water bottle slowly. โYou want us to share a room?โ
โYouโre grown adults in a committed relationship,โ she said, turning back to stir. โAinโt no reason to pretend youโre sleeping in different beds.โ
Jake made a vaguely strangled noise. โYou have two guest rooms.โ
โYes. And I turned the other one into my yoga space, thank you very much.โ She shot him a look over her shoulder, and then โ without mercy โ added, โBesides, letโs not act like yโall donโt sleep in the same bed every night already. Youโve been together for what, six months? Your words, not mine.โ
Jake coughed. โTechnically.โ
She smiled sweetly. โExactly.โ
He opened his mouth to protest again, but she cut him off with a warning glance, the kind only mothers โ Southern mothers especially โ could deliver with a wooden spoon in hand.
โOh, and Jacob?โ
โYeah?โ
She turned fully now, arms crossed over her apron. โIโm really proud of you for bringing her.โ
Jake stilled. โYou are?โ
She nodded, something softer sneaking into her voice now. โYouโve been stuck for a long time, honey. We all saw it. Ever since Lilaโฆ well. I just want you to be happy. And she makes you smile.โ
Jakeโs jaw tightened just slightly at the name โ Lila โ the echo of an old chapter he thought heโd buried deeper. He shoved one hand into the pocket of his jeans and forced a crooked grin.
โYeah,โ he said, voice low. โSheโs something.โ
His mom patted his cheek affectionately. โYouโre not foolinโ me, Jacob. That girlโs the real thing.โ
Jake swallowed thickly and turned toward the hallway, lifting his keys off the counter with a clink. โIโll go get my bag.โ
As he walked out, his mother called after him, โBe sweet to her, Jacob โ I want grandbabies before Iโm fifty-five.โ
โYouโre sixty-two,โ he called back over his shoulder.
โAnd yet my uterus still aches for them!โ
Jake groaned so loud the front door rattled as he stepped out.
Upstairs, you had just finished reapplying lip gloss and pulling on a breezy button-down dress when you heard his heavy boots on the stairs. A moment later, his voice filtered in through your cracked door.
โYou decent?โ
โDefine decent,โ you replied, smoothing the front of your dress. โDo I look like someone whoโs not dying inside?โ
Jake pushed the door open, suitcase in hand, and paused just long enough to raise an eyebrow. โHonestly? You look hot.โ
You blinked.
He blinked.
โTemperature-wise,โ he added quickly, face deadpan. โObviously. It's brutal out there.โ
You rolled your eyes, stepping aside so he could drag his bag inside. He parked it beside the dresser โ your dresser, apparently โ and straightened up with a long sigh.
โBad news,โ he said.
You crossed your arms. โMore bad news?โ
โWeโre sharing a room.โ
You stared.
He gestured vaguely. โApparently, your side of the bed is the one closest to the fan. Youโre welcome.โ
Your brain short-circuited. โWait. Hold on. What do you mean weโre sharing a room?โ
โI mean there is one room. Singular. Uno. Mama Seresin said, and I quote, โLetโs not pretend yโall donโt sleep in the same bed already.โโ
Your mouth dropped open. โOh my God.โ
He shrugged helplessly. โSheโs crafty.โ
You turned away, pacing to the far end of the room like you were in a courtroom summation. โThis is bad. This is so bad. I need a diagram of how bad this is.โ
โShe also wants grandkids,โ Jake added.
You stopped pacing and turned to him, scandalized. โYouโre kidding.โ
โI wish I were.โ
You groaned and sat on the edge of the bed, burying your face in your hands. โIโm going to have a stress-induced aneurysm.โ
Jake walked over, crouched beside you with all the faux-seriousness of a man ready to be annoying on purpose. โI promise not to hog the covers.โ
You peeked at him through your fingers. โDo you snore?โ
โLike a lumberjack.โ
โOh, perfect.โ
Jake smirked. โYou say that now, but give it one night and youโll be curled up against me like a koala.โ
You stared at him.
He winked.
You tossed a throw pillow directly at his face.
Jake caught it one-handed. โSee? This is exactly the kind of couple energy your firm would love.โ
You groaned again and flopped back onto the bed, arms outstretched like you were ready to be taken by the Lord.
Jake laughed โ actually laughed โ and it wasnโt smug this time. Just light. Easy. It made your chest tighten for a reason you didnโt feel like examining yet.
Outside the window, laughter drifted up from the backyard. The sun was starting to dip lower, casting everything in honey-colored light.
Jake stood and offered you his hand. โCome on, koala. If weโre stuck sharing a bed, might as well get through dinner without anyone catching on.โ
You narrowed your eyes. โI hate you.โ
He pulled you up anyway, grinning. โNah. You tolerate me. Aggressively.โ
The sun had long since dipped below the hills, the cicadas now buzzing in sleepy rhythms while porch lights flickered on like fireflies across the neighborhood. The grill had gone cold, the paper plates stacked in the recycling, and at last โ finally โ the last aunt had waved her final goodbye with her arms wrapped around your shoulders and a wink that made you mildly uncomfortable.
Jakeโs mom stood in the doorway, a dish towel over one shoulder, watching the dust trail of the last truck disappear down the drive.
โWell,โ she sighed, satisfied. โThat was lovely.โ
You and Jake were elbow-deep in soapy water at the sink, handing off rinsed dishes like a well-oiled, overly attractive domestic machine. You were still trying to wrap your head around how many side dishes a single backyard barbecue required when she turned to you, grinning.
โDarlinโ, youโve been such a trooper. City girl, bless your heart.โ
You smiled politely, managing not to flinch when she pressed another kiss to your cheek.
โBut go on now,โ she added, waving the towel. โShoo. Iโve got the rest. You two lovebirds go get some rest before someone needs to wheel you both out of here.โ
You opened your mouth to protest โ maybe offer to dry something โ but Jakeโs hand was already on the small of your back, guiding you toward the hallway like heโd just been handed the keys to a prison gate.
โWouldnโt wanna disrespect the head of the house,โ he said smoothly, barely hiding the grin in his voice. โThanks for everything, Mama.โ
โOh!โ she called after you both as you reached the stairs. โAnd no funny business under my roof, yโhear?โ
You froze.
Jake didnโt.
Without missing a beat, he raised his voice and called back, โDefine funny!โ
โI mean it, Jacob Seresin!โ she replied, laughing.
You covered your burning face with one hand. โIโm going to die here.โ
Jake just smirked. โNot before we establish bed boundaries.โ
By the time you reached the room, your shoes were off, your back ached, and your face hurt from fake smiling. Jake kicked the door shut behind you, tossing a hoodie onto the corner chair and stretching like a cat with too many muscles.
โWell,โ he said, glancing around. โHome sweet nightmare.โ
You turned toward him with a hand raised like a traffic cop. โTurn around.โ
He blinked. โWhat?โ
โI need to change.โ
He scoffed, already walking to the other side of the room. โPlease. Itโs nothing I havenโt seen in a dream sequence.โ
โJacob.โ
He snorted, but turned around, raising both hands like a hostage. โFine. Whatever helps you sleep at night. Or on the entire bed, apparently.โ
You changed quickly โ opting for your favorite oversized sleep tee and shorts โ and when you cleared your throat, Jake glanced back, clearly fighting a smile.
โCute,โ he said, eyeing the cartoon on your shirt. โReal intimidating.โ
โYour turn,โ you said, plopping onto the mattress and immediately stacking pillows around yourself like a moody princess in a rom-com bunker.
Jake pulled off his t-shirt with a stretch that was frankly illegal, then yanked on an old Navy Academy tank and gym shorts. He flopped down dramatically โ not on the bed, but on the floor โ and used his backpack as a pillow.
You frowned. โYouโre seriously sleeping on the floor?โ
He stared up at the ceiling. โYes.โ
โโฆWhy?โ
Jake turned his head slightly toward you, eyebrow raised. โBecause your honor, the defendant has clearly stated that any attempt to share the bed would result in litigation.โ
You rolled your eyes. โItโs not like Iโll sue you. Iโll just smother you with a pillow.โ
โComforting.โ
A beat passed.
Thenโ
โYou can sleep on the bed,โ you muttered.
Jake grinned at the ceiling. โNah. Iโm good. This floorโs got great character.โ
โYouโre so dramatic.โ
He let out a long, exaggerated sigh. โOne day, when I throw out my back and can no longer fly, I hope you think of this moment. This betrayal.โ
You laughed despite yourself, the sound bouncing off the walls of the cozy little room.
Jake shifted slightly, settling in. โYou know, for a fake girlfriend, youโre doing pretty well.โ
You rested your head on your arm, facing him. โYouโre not so bad yourself. For a professional headache.โ
He smiled, eyes crinkling. โThanks, sweetheart.โ
There was something comfortable about it โ the teasing, the banter, the rhythm youโd fallen into like you hadnโt spent the last year arguing about everything from coffee orders to parking spots.
You watched him for a moment, just long enough to wonder if you were in over your head. If the fake was starting to blur. If Texas heat could get under your skin in more ways than one.
But instead, you said, โIf you steal my blanket in the middle of the night, I will kick you.โ
Jake smirked from the floor. โDonโt threaten me with a good time.โ
You tossed a pillow at his face. He caught it โ again โ and grinned, eyes glinting in the low light. โGoodnight, City Mouse.โ
โGoodnight, Luggage Mule.โ
Outside, the crickets chirped.
Inside, Jake lay on the floor with a stupid little smile on his face.
And you โ well, you pretended you werenโt smiling into your pillow, too.
-
You didnโt wake up to an alarm. Or to a rooster, thank God. You woke up to the loud, masculine drone of a mower outside your window.
At first, you thought you were dreaming โ some vaguely unsettling suburban nightmare where your exes mowed lawns shirtless in slow motion. But as your eyes adjusted and you peeled your cheek off the pillow, the hum continued.
And then you made the mistake of getting up to look.
The old farmhouse window framed the morning like a movie. Warm, golden light spilled across the lawn, and there โ glistening with sweat, biceps flexing, baseball cap backwards โ was Jake.
Shirtless.
Like, gloriously shirtless.
His back muscles moved with each push of the mower. His shorts hung just low enough on his hips to make you feel mildly unwell. He wiped sweat from his brow with the hem of a rag hanging from his pocket, and when he stretched to dump the bag of clippings, you nearly fainted.
โHas he always been thisโโ you whispered, then cut yourself off and darted back like a guilty Victorian widow caught staring at a stable boy.
Jake Seresin had no business looking like a GQ cover shoot before 9 a.m. on a Thursday.
You changed in record time โ tugging on your most casual button-down shirt and a pair of fitted jeans. They were a little tight, but flattering, and fine, youโd admit it: you wanted to look good. You even tried to wear loafers, which turned out to be a rookie mistake.
Hair up. Gloss on. Not thinking about Jakeโs abs. Not thinking aboutโ
Okay, now you were just lying to yourself.
When you made it downstairs, the kitchen smelled like heaven. Bacon, cinnamon, and freshly brewed coffee wrapped around you like a cozy Southern hug.
Jakeโs mom was already at the stove in a floral apron, flipping something golden in a cast-iron skillet. A full spread was laid out on the table โ biscuits, jam, eggs, fruit, the works.
โWell, good morninโ, sugar,โ she beamed when she spotted you. โYou sleep alright? You need coffee?โ
You nodded, offering a sheepish smile as you slid into a seat. โIโd sell my soul for coffee, actually.โ
She chuckled and poured you a mug.
โSo,โ she said, sitting across from you with a mischievous sparkle in her eye, โwhatโs your story, sweetheart? Whereโd you grow up?โ
You smiled, relaxing slightly. โIโm from Boston originally. Born and raised.โ
โLord, no wonder you look like youโre allergic to humidity,โ she teased. โWhat do you do in California?โ
โIโm a lawyer,โ you said, and at her impressed noise, you added, โCriminal defense.โ
Her eyes sparkled with something between admiration and mischief. โA woman who knows her way around an argument. I like that.โ
โIโll try not to cross-examine you at breakfast.โ
She laughed again, warm and genuine. โCollege?โ
โNYU. I lived in the city for a while. I only moved to California a couple of years ago. Too many rats in New York.โ
โIโve always said rats should pay rent,โ she nodded solemnly.
You laughed. โExactly.โ
The kitchen door creaked open just then, and in walked Jake โ still sweaty, still shirtless, a towel slung around his neck like a war medal. You tried very hard not to stare.
He made a beeline for the fridge, snagging a water bottle, and offered a lazy grin. โMorninโ.โ
His mom glanced over her shoulder. โBoy, donโt drip all over my clean floors.โ
Jake just smirked at you. โDid she tell you yet?โ
You raised an eyebrow. โTell me what?โ
Jakeโs mom straightened up, pointing a spatula at your feet. โThose,โ she said. โAre not shoes.โ
You looked down at yourโadmittedly polishedโloafers. โThese are Ferragamo.โ
โSweetheart,โ she said gently, โTexas doesnโt care what they cost. Theyโre city shoes. Youโll break an ankle trying to cross a dirt road.โ
Jake nodded solemnly. โItโs true. Youโll be the first casualty of fashion this side of the Mississippi.โ
You glared. โThank you, Vogue and GQ.โ
His mom clapped her hands. โWhich is why weโre all going into town later.โ
You blinked. โWe are?โ
Jake looked amused. โWe are?โ
She turned toward him. โYes, we are. My son is not dragging his girlfriend across the entire state of Texas without proper footwear. Weโre getting this girl some real boots.โ
Jake's eyes glinted with mischief. โCan I pick them?โ
โNo,โ you and his mother said at the same time.
She winked at you. โDonโt worry, sweetheart. Weโll find you a pair that says โI fight for justice and look damn good doing it.โโ
You smiled, suddenly charmed and overwhelmed all at once.
Jake finally pushed off the counter, tossing his towel in the laundry bin. โAlright, alright. Iโll go shower so I donโt scandalize the boot shop with my manly physique.โ
You rolled your eyes. โPlease. Theyโll think youโre doing a calendar shoot.โ
He paused in the doorway, flexed dramatically, and shot you a wink.
You snorted into your coffee. โSomeone needs to humble you.โ
Jake pointed at you as he backed away. โAnd someone needs boots that wonโt get them killed by a gopher hole.โ
You leaned back in your chair, hiding a smile behind your mug.
Across the table, his mother just watched the two of you with an expression that could only be described as smug.
The drive into town was all blue skies and golden fields โ postcard-perfect and offensively charming, like Texas itself had decided to play up the clichรฉs just to mess with you.
You sat in the passenger seat of Jakeโs dusty truck, the leather warm under your thighs despite the air conditioning on full blast. His mother rode in the backseat, humming something country and cheerful, her arm resting out the open window like she didnโt have a care in the world.
Jake, naturally, looked like he belonged in a commercial. Aviators. Henley rolled at the sleeves. That smug little half-smile that said he was very aware of how good he looked behind the wheel.
You hated how well he pulled off this whole aesthetic.
Worse, you hated that he was currently pulling off affectionate boyfriend like it was second nature.
His hand rested casually on your thigh โ not too high, not too low, but perfectly placed โ his thumb brushing slow circles against the seam of your jeans as he drove. He hadnโt asked. Heโd just done it. You, flustered and dumb, hadnโt had the spine to move it.
And maybe you didnโt want to move it.
You cleared your throat, shifting a little. โYou know you donโt actually have to touch me for the entire drive, right?โ
He didnโt look at you. โIโm selling the fantasy, plus you know I can't keep my hands off you, honey.โ
โOh, is this the deluxe package?โ you said, deadpan. โDoes it come with thigh groping and excessive cologne?โ
โThatโs just my natural musk, sweetheart,โ Jake said without missing a beat, turning to flash you the most infuriating smile known to man. โBe honest, you like it.โ
You opened your mouth to argue, but his mother leaned forward from the backseat.
โI think itโs sweet,โ she said, positively beaming. โI love how playful yโall are. So many couples forget how to have fun together.โ
Your jaw snapped shut.
Jake squeezed your thigh like a punctuation mark. โWe have tons of fun, donโt we, baby?โ
You turned to him slowly, smile tight. โOh, itโs a nonstop joyride. Just last week we fought over what color the living room throw pillows should be.โ
Jakeโs grin deepened. โAnd I was right, wasnโt I? The burnt orange really brought out your fiery temperament.โ
You blinked at him. โYou are so lucky your mom is in this truck.โ
โOh, I know.โ
From the backseat, she laughed. โHonestly, Iโve never seen Jake like this. Heโs practically glowing. You bring something out of him, sweetheart.โ
You turned to the window to hide your blush. Jake just kept smiling โ relaxed, easy, like he hadnโt just broken the Geneva Convention by flirting with you like that.
And then โ to really commit to the role โ he pulled into a spot on Main Street, killed the engine, and got out of the truck with an exaggerated stretch. You reached for the door handle, but he was already rounding the hood to open it for you like some cowboy Casanova.
You gave him a look as you stepped out. โYouโre really leaning into this, huh?โ
Jake leaned down, voice low. โYou said Iโd make a terrible actor. Iโm just proving you wrong.โ
โDonโt let it go to your head.โ
He closed the door behind you with a wink. โToo late.โ
โYโall are just precious,โ his mother said from behind you, fanning herself slightly in the summer heat. โI swear, you should be in one of those Hallmark movies.โ
Jake looked smug. You looked vaguely nauseous.
โCome on,โ she added brightly. โBoots first, coffee later.โ
Jake fell into step beside you, hand settling again on your lower back. You stiffened instinctively โ not because you didnโt like it, but because you did.
โYouโre enjoying this way too much,โ you muttered as the three of you walked down the street.
โOf course I am,โ he said, brushing his fingers up your spine like a casual threat. โYouโre letting me touch you in public and not slapping me for it. Itโs the best day of my life.โ
You glared at him. โKeep talking and Iโll โaccidentallyโ push you into a display of belt buckles.โ
Jake leaned in, lips just near your ear. โKinky.โ
You elbowed him hard in the ribs. โJesus.โ
He laughed โ genuine, loud, and a little too warm โ and you hated that it made your stomach twist.
Back home, things were clean-cut, logical. Contracts, courtrooms, control. Here? In this sun-drenched, rodeo-hatted nightmare? Everything felt messy. You werenโt supposed to be flustered. You werenโt supposed to like the way Jake looked at you like he actually wanted to keep touching you.
You were supposed to be faking.
But from the way his mom sighed and smiled like her son had finally fallen in love โ and from the way Jake squeezed your hand gently as you crossed the street โ you couldnโt help but wonder:
summary; Enemies with a deal: play the perfect couple for one week. But in the heart of Texas, under one roof and one lie too manyโฆ They forget where the act ends and the feelings begin.
word count; 4.1k
series masterlist // masterlist
The takeout containers sat between them like a tiny, chaotic buffet โ half-finished pad thai, a nearly empty box of dumplings, two egg rolls, and the sad remains of a fortune cookie that had crumbled in the bag. You were cross-legged on the living room floor with your blouse sleeves rolled up, hair messily pinned, chopsticks in hand like weapons. Jake was on the couch, one arm slung over the back, the other balancing a beer on his knee, watching you like you were his evening entertainment.
Which, unfortunately, you were.
"This couldโve been an email,โ you muttered, fishing a rogue scallion from your noodles.
Jake leaned forward slightly, eyes gleaming. โAnd miss out on this quality time? No chance.โ
You scoffed. โPretty sure I already spend more time with you than God intended.โ
โAnd yet,โ he said, with that maddening grin, โhere you are. In my living room. Stealing my dumplings.โ
โThey were communal.โ
โNot the pork ones.โ
You didnโt even look up as you popped the last one in your mouth. โWhoops.โ
Jake huffed a soft laugh, sipping his beer. For a few quiet seconds, the only sounds were rustling containers and the distant hum of a ceiling fan.
Thenโ
โI just realized I donโt actually know anything about you.โ
You raised an eyebrow without lifting your head. โIs that you trying to flirt? Because the last time you asked a woman that, Iโm pretty sure you were nineteen and on spring break.โ
He smirked. โYou wound me.โ
โGood.โ
Jake nudged a carton with his foot. โIโm serious. If weโre gonna pull this off, I need to know the basics. The essentials. Favorite color. Childhood trauma. Weird hobbies. The usual.โ
You gave him a flat look. โWhy?โ
โIn case my mom asks.โ
You rolled your eyes and leaned back on one hand, chopsticks dangling from the other. โFine. I like navy blue. I donโt do hobbies. And I once gave myself a stick-and-poke tattoo in high school after watching one Vice documentary.โ
He sat up. โWait, really?โ
โNo,โ you said dryly. โBut see? That should tell you everything you need to know.โ
Jake chuckled under his breath. โYouโre such a pain in the ass.โ
โLikewise.โ
He studied you for a moment, eyes narrowing just slightly. โSeriously, though. You donโt talk about yourself much.โ
โThatโs because Iโm not interesting.โ
โBullshit.โ
You looked away, fixing your gaze on a plastic soy sauce packet. โCan we just stick to the story?โ
Jake hesitated. Then leaned back again, nodding once. โAlright. Letโs say we met six months ago.โ
You nodded slowly. โAt a bar. Mutual friends.โ
โEasy. Phoenix introduced us.โ
โShe hates both of us equally. Checks out.โ
Jake grinned. โFirst date?โ
You considered. โBowling.โ
He blinked. โReally?โ
You shrugged. โItโs neutral territory. Public. Low pressure. Plus, Iโm alarmingly good at it. Wouldโve boosted your ego to beat me.โ
โOh, sweetheart, if we ever went bowling, I wouldโve crushed you.โ
โYouโd have pulled something and limped for a week.โ
โOkay. Second date?โ Jake asked, leaning forward like this was some kind of game show.
You tilted your head. โYou want to keep going with this?โ
He gestured around the room. โWeโre already elbows-deep in spring rolls and fake commitment. Might as well go all the way.โ
โThatโs what she said,โ you deadpanned.
Jake blinked, then barked a laugh. โDid you justโ?โ
You pointed your chopsticks at him. โDonโt make it weird. Just answer the question.โ
He grinned. โAlright. Our second date wasโฆ tacos.โ
โTacos?โ you repeated.
โIn my truck. Late night. You were wearing those ridiculous high heels you swear are comfortable but make you limp after five minutesโโ
โExcuse me,โ you cut in, โI would never agree to food that requires napkins and a lap while wearing couture. Iโm not an animal.โ
Jake raised a brow. โCouture?โ
โShut up. This is my fantasy too.โ
He chuckled, rolling his beer bottle between his palms. โFine. Fancy rooftop wine bar?โ
You shook your head. โToo obvious.โ
โBowling alley?โ
โWe already used bowling.โ
โOkay, smartass.โ He smirked. โWhere do you take your fake boyfriends on their fake second date?โ
You pretended to consider it. โArt museum.โ
Jake blinked. โThatโs the opposite of tacos in a truck.โ
โExactly. You hated it. Complained about all the abstract pieces and asked why everything looked like genitals.โ
Jakeโs smile widened. โThat sounds like me.โ
โAnd I was this close to leaving you there,โ you added, holding up your fingers.
โBut I won you back by buying overpriced gift shop merch,โ he said proudly.
You nodded. โA tote bag that said โModern Art Makes Me Sad.โโ
Jake laughed. โIโd absolutely carry that around.โ
โYou did. I made you.โ
He shook his head, clearly amused. โYou know, for people who allegedly canโt stand each other, weโre disturbingly good at this.โ
You didnโt look up from your noodles. โThatโs because we both have control issues.โ
Jake raised his beer in a mock-toast. โTo us.โ
You clinked your chopsticks against it. โA match made in neurosis.โ
He grinned, eyes dancing as he watched you across the room. โSo how did I win you over? What moment made you realize I was the love of your life?โ
You snorted. โYouโre assuming Iโm the one who fell first?โ
โOh absolutely,โ he said confidently. โI probably annoyed you into submission.โ
โPlease. You couldnโt annoy me into making you a sandwich.โ
Jake grinned wider. โCโmon. There had to be a moment. A fake, heart-melting, perfect-for-a-wedding-speech moment.โ
You rolled your eyes, but you couldnโt quite bite back the smile tugging at your lips. โFine. You fixed my radiator.โ
Jake blinked. โThatโs it?โ
โIt was January. I was freezing. You came over with your toolbox and those stupid biceps and made it work again. I was vulnerable. Donโt get cocky.โ
Jake looked mock-offended. โYou fell for me because I played handyman?โ
โTemporarily. Then you mansplained how a thermostat works and I came to my senses.โ
He shook his head. โYouโre a menace.โ
โYouโre the one who asked.โ
He watched you for a second, something playful flickering behind his eyes. โSo weโre good? This is our story?โ
You nodded. โYep.โ
โPerfect,โ Jake said. โNow all we have to do is sell it to my mother.โ
You set your empty takeout container aside. โEasy. Iโve convinced juries to let literal criminals walk. Faking a relationship with a mildly tolerable flyboy canโt be harder than that.โ
Jake leaned back, smirking. โYou just admitted Iโm tolerable.โ
โI said mildly. Donโt get ahead of yourself.โ
-
The tickets were booked. The time off from work was somehow authorized after three reschedules, one favor called in, and a suspiciously vague email about โa personal family emergency.โ You were officially committed.
All that was left?
The suitcase. The trip. The lie.
And Jake Seresin, knocking on your front door like he owned the place.
You opened it barefoot, still in bike shorts and an oversized t-shirt that read Case Closed. There was half a granola bar in your hand and a distinctly haunted look in your eyes.
โTell me youโve been robbed,โ Jake said by way of greeting.
You glared at him, stepping aside. โCome in, Cowboy.โ
He walked through the threshold, taking in the pristine living room โ modern, sharp, color-coordinated down to the throw pillows โ and then the hallway lined with framed legal diplomas, pristine white walls, and abstract art.
โThis place is veryโฆyou.โ
You shut the door. โThanks. That sounded almost like an insult.โ
He grinned. โIt was. Now whereโs the fire?โ
You gestured down the hallway, and the moment he stepped inside your bedroom, he actually whistled.
โJesus Christ.โ
He wasnโt looking at your bed or your decor. No. He was staring into the yawning chasm of your closet, which looked like it had been ransacked by a particularly indecisive tornado. Clothes were everywhere โ on the bench, on the floor, hanging out of drawers like theyโd tried to escape mid-crisis.
โThis isnโt a closet,โ Jake said, arms crossed. โThis is a cry for help.โ
You tossed your granola wrapper at him.
โI donโt know what to pack!โ you snapped, already elbow-deep in a pile of blouses. โWhat does one wear in Texas? Do I need denim? A Stetson? Is fringe ironic again?โ
Jake took a slow lap around the disaster zone, eyeing a particularly sparkly dress hanging from a doorknob. โWhat exactly do you think happens in Texas? Line dancing and cattle wrangling at the airport?โ
You shot him a look. โIโm sorry, I wasnโt born in a cornfield like you. Iโve never set foot in a town with a population under one million.โ
Jake snorted. โThatโs not a town, sweetheart. Thatโs a city-state.โ
You dramatically flopped onto your bed. โThis is my nightmare.โ
Jake pulled a pair of heels out of the mix โ suede, open-toe, aggressively New York โ and held them up like a dead rat. โPlanning to wear these to Sunday dinner with my grandma?โ
You covered your face. โI have no context. I donโt know if weโre doing brunch or barrel racing.โ
Jakeโs voice was all mock-sympathy. โPoor little Boston girl. No idea what to wear in the wild.โ
โSay โBostonโ in that tone again and Iโll call the airline and cancel your ticket.โ
He grinned, dropping the shoes onto a nearby chair. โRelax. You donโt need to look like a country song to survive the week.โ
โSays the man who owns boots.โ
โI own functional footwear. Unlike you and theseโโ he picked up a pair of red-bottom stilettos โโweapons of mass destruction.โ
โTheyโre Louboutins,โ you said defensively.
โTheyโre death traps,โ he replied, casually sitting on the edge of your bed like he wasnโt witnessing a full-scale mental collapse. โAlright, listen. Pack one dress for the wedding, one for dinner with my family, and then just casual stuff. Jeans, tees, something you can breathe in. You do own jeans, right?โ
You shot him a death glare. โI own very expensive jeans that have never been within fifty miles of dirt.โ
Jake snickered. โYouโre gonna do great.โ
โDonโt patronize me.โ
โYouโre going to thrill the town, actually,โ he added, smug. โTheyโve never seen someone wear Chanel to a backyard BBQ.โ
You groaned and reached for a pair of oversized sunglasses. โI already regret agreeing to this.โ
โToo late, Counselor,โ he said, stretching out and folding his arms behind his head. โYouโre my fake girlfriend now. Ride or die.โ
You looked at him, then at the war zone that used to be your closet. โYouโre enjoying this way too much.โ
โIโm having the time of my life.โ
โSadist.โ
โCity mouse.โ
You threw a folded shirt at his head.
He caught it one-handed, smirking. โThatโs not going to match your hat.โ
You paused. โWhat hat?โ
Jake leaned forward, eyes glinting with pure menace. โOh. Did I forget to mention? My mom has a whole collection. She's gonna insist.โ
You dropped your head into your hands.
He clapped a hand on your shoulder, mock-gentle. โYeehaw, baby.โ
-
โYou know,โ you said, slipping your sunglasses down your nose as you strolled through the terminal like it was your own personal runway, โthis is the most unhinged thing Iโve agreed to do since I let my roommate give me curtain bangs during a wine tasting.โ
Jake, walking beside you in a t-shirt tight enough to be a war crime and dragging a carry-on with absurd ease, gave you a sidelong look. โAnd yet, here you are. Ready to fake-date me in the Lone Star State.โ
You grinned. โIโm choosing to see this as performance art.โ
โSure. As long as your method acting includes pretending to like me.โ
โIโd sooner chew glass.โ
โGod, I missed this energy,โ Jake muttered, shouldering past a group of vacation dads in cargo shorts.
By the time you reached your gate, the boarding area was buzzing โ honeymooners, tech bros, some teenagers in cowboy boots who looked like they were on their way to audition for The Voice. You scanned the crowd, checking the time on your phone.
Jake stretched, arms overhead, and you didnโt mean to look at the way his shirt lifted, butโฆ gravity was undefeated. So were his abs.
Unfortunately.
"Stop checking me out," he said without looking at you.
โI was admiring your poor posture,โ you lied, turning your attention to your designer tote. โYouโre going to need a chiropractor by thirty-five.โ
Jake smirked. โGood thing Iโm thirty-eight and still thriving.โ
โThriving,โ you echoed. โIs that what weโre calling male delusion now?โ
Before he could respond, the gate agent called for first-class boarding.
Jake turned to you with a dramatic little bow. โAfter you, darlinโ.โ
You gave him a look. โSay that again and Iโll commit homicide in a Delta boarding tunnel.โ
He grinned and followed you down the jet bridge.
Once seated, you kicked off your heels and stretched luxuriously, feeling very much like you were in a Nancy Meyers movie where you were just divorced and about to fall in love with a man who made bread from scratch.
โGod, this is so weird,โ you said, accepting a glass of champagne from the flight attendant. โIt feels like Iโm Hannah Montana going back to her ranch after performing at the Staples Center.โ
Jake blinked. โWho?โ
You stared at him. โIโm sorry?โ
โHannah who?โ
You turned to face him fully. โHannah Montana. The Disney Channel icon. The woman who taught a generation that you can, in fact, have the best of both worlds?โ
Jake just looked at you like youโd started speaking Dutch.
โJesus Christ,โ you muttered, sipping your drink. โYou really are old.โ
โThat reference meant nothing to me,โ he said, bemused. โIs that like High School Musical?โ
You gasped. โYou donโt know?!โ
โI was defending the country when you were learning synchronized dances from Zac Efron.โ
โExcuse you,โ you said, one hand to your chest. โThat movie changed lives. Lives.โ
Jake snorted into his glass. โYouโre such a menace.โ
โIโm a cultural scholar.โ
โOf bubblegum pop and teen angst.โ
You grinned. โExactly.โ
Just then, a soft voice floated across the aisle.
โIโm sorry, I donโt mean to interrupt,โ said a woman in her sixties, holding a well-worn book in her lap and smiling warmly, โbut you two are just the cutest couple. Iโve been watching you since the terminal โ the way you tease each other? So sweet.โ
You froze with your champagne mid-air.
Jake didnโt miss a beat. โAw, thank you, maโam. We try.โ
You turned slowly to him, eyes wide. He just smiled, pure Southern charm in denim and sin.
The woman beamed. โI can always tell when itโs real love. Enjoy your trip!โ
โShe thinks weโre in love,โ you hissed the moment she turned back to her book.
Jake leaned closer, his smirk criminal. โWell, sweetheart, fake it till you make it.โ
โYouโre insufferable.โ
โYou like it.โ
You refused to dignify that with a response. Instead, you adjusted your seat, crossed your legs, and muttered, โIf I get stuck next to you for three hours, Iโm upgrading myself to witness protection.โ
Jake just laughed. โWelcome to the best of both worlds, city girl.โ
Somewhere between your third glass of first-class champagne and Jake muttering something snide about your Spotify playlists, youโd drifted off โ head tilted against the window, seat reclined just enough, arms crossed defensively like even in unconsciousness you were keeping your guard up.
Jake had, of course, noticed.
He also noticed the small, unflattering drool mark collecting at the corner of your mouth.
โHey,โ he said when the wheels hit the tarmac with a bump, his voice pitched low next to your ear, โSleeping Beauty. You drool.โ
Your eyes snapped open, your brain still foggy with sleep and recycled cabin air. โWhatโ?โ
He nodded toward your chin, totally unrepentant. โLittle waterfall situation happening.โ
You wiped your mouth instantly, glaring. โI hate you.โ
โIโm touched.โ
You shoved his arm as you sat up, blinking at the sunshine flooding through the window. โAre we here?โ
Jake nodded. โWelcome to Texas.โ
You squinted at the landscape. Flat, golden, stretching for miles. Your heels were already regretting this decision.
By the time you were off the plane and standing at baggage claim, reality was fully setting in. This was Texas. You were surrounded by more cowboy hats than cell towers, the humidity hit like a wet towel to the face, and the airport smelled vaguely like hay and BBQ.
You, naturally, were dressed in designer travel wear โ linen trousers, loafers, oversized sunglasses, and an absurdly expensive tote you refused to check. Beside you stood Jake, perfectly at home in jeans and a t-shirt, backpack slung effortlessly over one shoulder.
And then came the luggage.
Your luggage.
Three suitcases, a carry-on, the tote, and a hanging garment bag with your wedding dress inside โ all color-coordinated, all wheeled with difficulty.
Jake stood still as the final piece slid onto the conveyor.
โโฆIs this all yours?โ he asked, voice suspiciously calm.
You didnโt even blink. โOf course.โ
He raised an eyebrow. โDid you pack for a destination wedding or the fall of civilization?โ
โSome of us like to prepare.โ
Jake exhaled deeply. โYou realize weโre staying at my motherโs house, not a fashion week penthouse.โ
โI need options,โ you replied breezily, already loading up the rolling handles and looping your bag across your chest. โSome of us werenโt born with a pair of jeans and a toolkit in our crib.โ
Jake muttered something that sounded suspiciously like โcity girls gonna be the death of meโ and grabbed two suitcases without further complaint.
You handed him the third.
And your carry-on.
And your garment bag.
He stared at you. โSeriously?โ
You smiled sweetly. โIโm delicate.โ
He groaned, dragging what looked like half of a Louis Vuitton showroom behind him.
Outside, the heat was even worse โ that dry, sunbaked kind of warmth that hit you in the lungs and made you wish for ice water and mercy. You immediately regretted wearing long pants.
Jake loaded your mountain of luggage into the back of the rental SUV (a navy Chevy Tahoe that looked like it had been specifically designed for football dads and small-town sheriffs) while you hovered nearby, like the helpless urbanite you were.
โMy mom offered to pick us up, by the way,โ he said, slamming the trunk shut and walking around to the driverโs side. โI told her no.โ
โWhy not?โ you asked, sliding into the passenger seat and adjusting the air vents toward your face with great urgency.
โSheโs sixty-two and insists on driving that old Buick of hers like itโs the goddamn Batmobile. I didnโt want her on the highway alone for two hours.โ
You blinked. โWait, itโs two hours to her house?โ
Jake snorted. โDid you think we were staying in the airport?โ
You slumped in your seat, dramatic as ever. โI shouldโve just faked a family emergency and stayed home.โ
Jake pulled out of the parking lot, the air conditioning slowly coming to life. โToo late now, sweetheart. Youโre committed. Fake girlfriend contract is binding.โ
โI want my lawyer.โ
โYou are your lawyer.โ
โTragic.โ
Jake grinned, merging onto the open stretch of highway. โBuckle up, city mouse. Welcome to the country.โ
Fifteen minutes into the drive and Jake had already called you high-maintenance, tone-deaf, and โso painfully city it makes his teeth hurt.โ Youโd countered with cowboy cosplay, toxic masculinity, and a jab at his Spotify library after he played a Brooks & Dunn song unironically.
But now the SUV had settled into a calm rhythm โ road humming under the tires, warm wind filtering through half-cracked windows, the heat lazy and golden.
You kicked off your shoes, curling your feet up onto the seat, and twisted your body toward him.
โAlright, we need to get our story straight.โ
Jake raised an eyebrow. โWhat story?โ
You gave him a flat look. โThe one where Iโm your loving, adoring, totally smitten girlfriend who for some reason agreed to spend a week pretending youโre tolerable.โ
He smirked. โSo basically sci-fi.โ
โSo,โ you said, lazily turning your head toward him. โWeโve got the meet-cute, the timeline, and the first few dates down.โ
"All Rom-Com worthy if you ask me."
You rolled your eyes. โDelusional, but sure. Now we just need to cover the weird little stuff. Things couples know.โ
Jake glanced at you. โLike what? Favorite color? How you take your coffee?โ
โExactly. Little domestic things. If your mom asks me what side of the bed you sleep on and I freeze like a malfunctioning Alexa, the whole thing falls apart.โ
He chuckled. โEasy. Right side. Always.โ
You hummed. โGood. Iโm a lefty.โ
Jake gave a sideways smirk. โWeโd be compatible if this were a sleepover and not a romantic fraud.โ
You flipped him off, elbow still propped on the window.
He grinned. โOkay, whatโs my coffee order?โ
โYou donโt drink coffee. You drink jet fuel in a mug.โ
Jake nodded solemnly. โBlack, no sugar. Like my soul.โ
You snorted. โJesus.โ
โHow do you take yours?โ
โLike someone who needs therapy. Triple shot oat milk latte with two pumps of vanilla and a crippling caffeine dependency.โ
Jake gave a low whistle. โThat sounds like a cry for help.โ
You raised your brows. โYouโre the one lying to your mother about being in love. Iโd say weโre both circling the drain.โ
โFair.โ
You reached into your tote and pulled out a small notebook. Jake raised a brow.
โYouโre taking notes?โ
โObviously. I have a legal pad full of court prep in my bag, you think Iโm going to half-ass our cover story? Please.โ
He leaned back in his seat, watching you jot down bullet points. โGod, youโre so type A it physically hurts.โ
โAnd youโre going to benefit from it, so donโt whine,โ you said, clicking your pen. โOkay, next โ pet names.โ
Jake groaned. โWeโre still doing this?โ
You turned to him fully. โYes. If I call you โJakeโ every time I speak to you, itโll sound formal. We need variety.โ
He gave it a beat, then said, totally deadpan: โPumpkin tits.โ
You didnโt miss a beat. โKeep talking and Iโll stab you with this pen.โ
He laughed so hard he nearly swerved again.
โOkay,โ he wheezed, wiping at his eyes. โOkay. For real. Iโll call you โdarlinโ โ itโs natural, I already say it sometimes.โ
โSure, as long as you donโt say it like Iโm your horse.โ
Jake shrugged. โFine. You can call meโโ
โIโm not calling you daddy,โ you interrupted.
He choked.
โI WASNโT GOING TO SAY THAT,โ he said, face halfway between scandalized and hysterical.
You smirked, satisfied. โGood. Just making sure we set clear boundaries.โ
โJesus Christ.โ
โMoving on. Physical affection. PDA. Where do we stand?โ
Jake cleared his throat, composing himself. โHand on your lower back. Kiss hello, kiss goodbye. Knee touches under the table.โ
You nodded. โWe cuddle?โ
Jake smirked. โDepends. Are you a little spoon or a big spoon?โ
โIโll smother you in your sleep.โ
He grinned. โNoted.โ
You scribbled a few more notes. โWhat else. Oh โ allergies?โ
โIโm allergic to cats. Mild. I get sniffly.โ
You blinked. โI would not have expected that.โ
โI contain multitudes.โ
You looked down at your notes. โOkay. Favorite meals?โ
You leaned back again, squinting out the windshield as the landscape began to shift โ the fields more familiar, the signs more weathered. The road was growing narrower, the GPS chiming softly with each passing mile.
โYou nervous?โ Jake asked after a beat.
You shrugged. โAbout lying to your entire family? No, I do this kind of thing in front of judges all the time.โ
He huffed a laugh. โYouโre something else.โ
โI contain multitudes.โ
Jake smiled at the echo, but didnโt respond. Instead, he reached over and turned down the music, letting the silence settle between you. Comfortable. Almostโฆ companionable.
The lie had gotten shockingly easy to wear.
โHey,โ he said, just before the final turnoff.
You looked over.
He gave you a half-smile, quieter than his usual teasing grin. โThanks for doing this. I know you didnโt have to.โ
You tilted your head. โJust so weโre clear: you still owe me a date night with my firm and a performance worthy of an Oscar.โ
โObviously,โ he said. โIโll even wear a tie.โ
You paused. โClip-on?โ
Jake looked offended. โAbsolutely not.โ
You grinned and faced forward again as the car bumped onto a long dirt driveway, lined with crepe myrtles and an old white fence.
You exhaled. โAlright, cowboy. Letโs go meet your mama.โ
summary; Enemies with a deal: play the perfect couple for one week. But in the heart of Texas, under one roof and one lie too manyโฆ They forget where the act ends and the feelings begin.
word count; 2.8k
a/n; welcome to part one! this is the shortest chapter of the series, just a little introduction of the characters and the plot, hope you enjoy!<3
series masterlist // masterlist
The envelope had arrived in the middle of a Monday, as if it were any other piece of mail. No warning. No preamble. No thunderclouds gathering outside the windows of his office to signal the oncoming storm. Just a thin ivory envelope tucked between a flight roster and a water bill, sealed in gold foil with a waxy script that sent a jolt through his spine the second he saw it.
He didnโt open it right away.
Instead, Jake Seresin stared at it for a long, quiet moment, his fingers tightening slightly as he leaned back in his chair. The Top Gun insignia gleamed on the wall behind him, catching the warm light of early afternoon, but his mind was already a thousand miles away โ somewhere green and sun-drenched and thick with cicadas.
The return address said Austin, but he knew better. That script, those colors โ they werenโt just Texan. They were hers.
He slid a finger under the flap and carefully tore it open.
Inside: a glossy cardstock invitation, elegantly printed, soft pink flowers curling around cursive lettering that read:
Cordially invited to the wedding of Lila James and Dr. Thomas Grant...
Jake stopped reading.
Lila James. Lila James was getting married.
His Lila. Or, well, used to be.
The only girl heโd ever called his girlfriend out loud. The only one who ever knew him before the Navy, before the medals, before โHangman.โ Back when he was just Jake, tan and wide-eyed and reckless, sneaking kisses behind the bleachers and whispering forever like he meant it โ because back then, he did.
Theyโd tried. Really tried. All through flight school and her undergrad, into his first real station and her first real heartbreak. It wasnโt anger or betrayal that ended it. It was just time. Distance. The quiet weight of lives growing apart.
Still, he hadnโt expected this.
He ran a hand through his hair, dropping the card onto his desk like it had burned him. The edges fluttered slightly under the A/C vent. He sat back, staring at the ceiling, and exhaled a long, low breath through his nose.
Five seconds later, his phone buzzed.
MOM.
He blinked, then groaned. โOf course.โ
He swiped to answer and leaned forward again, already bracing himself.
โHey, Ma.โ
โOh, honey, you got it, didnโt you?โ His motherโs voice, all bright Southern syrup, filled the line like sheโd been waiting by the phone. โI just talked to Denise, she said the invites went out last week!โ
Jake closed his eyes. โYeah. I got it.โ
โOh, itโs gonna be so beautiful. The James girls donโt do anything halfway, you know that. Lilaโs always had such good taste โ well, except that boy from Tennessee she dated for a while after you, but we donโt talk about him.โ She laughed. โBut now sheโs marrying a doctor! You believe that? A real one, not just a Ph.D.โ
Jake said nothing.
There was a beat of silence. Thenโ
โYou okay, baby?โ
โYeah,โ he said, too quickly. โIโm fine. Just caught me off guard, is all.โ
His mom hummed softly. โYou know, I always thought the two of you would find your way back to each other. You were just so good together. I mean, I still have those photos from senior prom framed in the hallway.โ
Jake winced. โMaybe you should take those down.โ
โWhy? You looked so handsome in that tux. And she was just glowing โ she always did around you.โ
He rubbed his temple with two fingers. โMa.โ
โIโm just saying, if thereโs anything unresolved between you twoโโ
โThere isnโt.โ
โโthis might be your last chance to say something.โ
Jake sat in silence, his throat working. What was there to say? Congratulations? Iโm glad you found someone else? I used to think Iโd marry you too?
His mom sighed. โI just want you to be happy, honey. Youโve been alone for a long time. I know the Navyโs demanding, but you deserve a partner. Someone to love you. Someone to ground you.โ
Jake looked down at the invitation again, still gleaming on the edge of his desk.
โWell,โ he said suddenly, the words coming from some rogue part of his brain that didnโt check with the rest of him first, โIโm actually seeing someone.โ
Silence.
Then: โYouโre what?โ
Jake cleared his throat. โIโm dating someone. Serious, actually. Itโsโฆ new. But real.โ
His mom gasped. โJacob Austin Seresin, youโve been holding out on me!โ
โI wasnโtโโ
โOh, my God! Whatโs her name? When do I get to meet her? Oh, this is perfect. Youโll bring her to the wedding, of course! Iโve got the guest room all made up, and Iโll finally get to show someone your baby picturesโโ
โWait, Maโโ
โYouโll fly in next Thursday, yes? Iโll tell Denise right away, sheโll be thrilled. Lord, I have to go shopping. I havenโt hosted in foreverโโ
โMa,โ Jake said again, louder this time. โCan we slow down a second?โ
โOh, donโt you even think about backing out now,โ she warned playfully. โYouโve never brought anyone home. Iโve been begging you for years and now that you are? Iโm throwing a party. This girlโwhatโs her name again?โ
Jake stared at the empty doorway of his office, his voice stuck somewhere between regret and resignation.
โIโll tell you soon,โ he muttered. โSheโsโฆ something.โ
โShe must be,โ his mom said warmly. โIโm so happy for you, honey. Truly.โ
โYeah,โ he mumbled, hanging up a minute later. โMe too.โ
He dropped the phone facedown on the desk and buried his face in his hands.
Then he groaned, long and low.
โI am so, so screwed.โ
-
Jake slammed his empty beer glass down on the bar with a grunt, his jaw tight as the sound of laughter echoed around him.
Phoenix was doubled over. Rooster had tears in his eyes. Bob was trying, and failing, not to smile.
"Yโall are the worst," Jake muttered, rubbing a hand over his face.
โYou told your mother you had a serious girlfriend?โ Rooster wheezed. โAnd now you have to show up to your exโs wedding with a mystery woman or sheโll know you lied? Hangman, Iโโ He lost it again, pounding the table. โYou deserve a medal.โ
โI deserve a bottle of whiskey and a parachute,โ Jake grumbled. โI should fake a deployment. Get reassigned to Guam. Take up carpentry and disappear.โ
Phoenix snorted. โYou know whatโs wild? This is your own fault. You couldโve just said no. Or sent a polite regret. But no, Mr. I-Always-Have-A-Plan had to make up a whole girlfriend.โ
โMy mom cornered me,โ Jake snapped. โYou try saying no to a Southern woman who thinks sheโs finally about to get grandkids. She was already planning the wedding before I hung up.โ
Coyote clapped him on the back. โDamn, man. Thatโs rough.โ
โItโs doomed, is what it is,โ Jake muttered. โI have no one. Absolutely noโโ
The door opened.
Jake looked up.
And in you walked.
You stepped into the bar like a storm cloud in stilettos โ all sharp lines and cool elegance, your tailored black trousers hugging your hips like they were stitched just for you, the silk blouse tucked neatly into the waistband, a soft cream that made your skin glow under the Hard Deckโs dim lights. The click of your red-bottomed heels against the worn wooden floor was almost too loud for the room, slicing through the laughter and noise like a courtroom gavel.
Jake straightened automatically.
Not that he was staring.
Or noticing how good your legs looked when you walked. Or how your lipstick was still intact โ probably from a full day of chewing through opposing counsel. Or how your hair was pulled back in that effortlessly intimidating way that said Iโm too busy winning to care what you think.
Definitely not noticing.
You reached the bar and dropped your purse beside Phoenix, sliding onto the stool with a tired sigh.
โHell of a day,โ you muttered. โI just spent four hours in front of a judge who thinks Title IX is a suggestion. I need a drink.โ
Phoenix raised her eyebrows. โRough?โ
You nodded, rolling your shoulders. โRough. My client almost cried. I did cry. But only after I got back to my office.โ
Jake cleared his throat. โDidnโt know you were joining us.โ
โDidnโt know it was your birthday,โ you shot back without missing a beat. โOh wait โ itโs not. So Iโm allowed to be here.โ
Rooster choked on his drink. Coyote bit back a laugh. Phoenix just smirked.
You always had that tone when you spoke to Jake โ smooth, crisp, dry as a martini with an extra twist of disdain. It wasnโt mean, not really. You didnโt seem to hate him. You just couldnโt be bothered to pretend you liked him.
Which, naturally, meant Jake spent most of his time trying to get under your skin.
You turned to Nat, already tugging the pins from your hair. โWhat did I miss?โ
Phoenix grinned. โOh, nothing. Just that Jakeโs in a desperate situation.โ
You arched a brow. โOh?โ
Jake groaned. โNo.โ
Rooster leaned forward, grinning. โHe told his mom he has a girlfriendโโ
โI panicked,โ Jake muttered.
โโso now he has to take her to his exโs wedding next week. You know. The one serious relationship heโs ever had.โ
โBecause his mom thinks heโs emotionally stunted,โ Phoenix added sweetly.
โI am right here,โ Jake snapped, waving a hand.
You looked unimpressed. โSo whatโs the plan? Hire someone off Craigslist? Or go stag and fake a tragic breakup in front of the shrimp cocktail?โ
Jake opened his mouth. Closed it. Scowled.
And Phoenix โ your beautiful, treacherous friend โ tilted her head and said, โActually, I have a better idea.โ Jakeโs stomach dropped.
You narrowed your eyes. โI donโt like that look.โ
Nat smiled wider. โYou should go with him.โ
You blinked. โExcuse me?โ
โCome on,โ she said, elbowing you lightly. โItโs perfect. Youโre single. Heโs desperate. Youโre already great at pretending not to want to murder each other. Thatโs basically halfway to marriage.โ
Jake stared at her like sheโd grown a second head. โWhat?!โ
โAbsolutely not,โ you said flatly, spinning your stool to face the bar.
โWhy not?โ Phoenix pushed.
โBecause Iโd rather throw myself into the ocean.โ
Jake held up both hands. โFor once, I agree with her.โ
You spun back to him. โOh, donโt act offended. Youโre the one lying to your mother.โ
โAt least I didnโt come straight from a courtroom with blood in my eyes.โ
You leaned forward slightly. โDonโt tempt me, Hangman.โ
โOkay, okay,โ Coyote laughed. โLetโs not burn the Hard Deck down.โ
Phoenix held up a hand. โIโm just saying โ if, hypothetically, you did need to pretend to be in a relationship for one single week, wouldnโt it be better to do it with someone who already knows your bullshit?โ
You and Jake locked eyes. And hated that it made sense.
-
The Hard Deck buzzed around them โ pool balls cracking, music playing low from the jukebox, someone whistling near the back patio. Youโd long since turned your body toward Coyote, laughing at something he was saying about Roosterโs latest attempt at growing out his hair, your wine glass nearly empty. Whatever ridiculous idea Natโs tossed out earlier had been dismissed and buried.
At least, it looked like it had.
But Jake Seresin had barely spoken since.
He stood by the bar now, arms crossed, a half-full beer warming in his hand. His eyes kept straying โ unintentionally, of course โ to where you sat, golden under the flickering light, a lock of hair curling behind your ear, the top two buttons of your blouse undone like an afterthought. The heels were off, tucked under the barstool, but the rest of you still looked like you belonged in a courtroom, delivering a closing statement that could dismantle a manโs entire existence.
Jake had seen you cut someone down with three words and a look. You were lethal. And now, you might also be his last chance.
He muttered a curse under his breath.
โGrow a pair,โ Phoenix said behind him, taking a sip of her drink without looking.
Jake blinked. โWhat?โ
She didnโt even turn her head. โGo ask her. Nicely. Or donโt. But stop staring like a Victorian maiden with a crush.โ
He frowned. โYouโre enjoying this way too much.โ
โIโm thriving,โ she said, and walked away.
Jake scrubbed a hand through his hair, exhaled slowly, and set his drink down.
Youโd just stepped outside, heels in one hand, cell phone in the other, scrolling through a few emails youโd ignored all day. The ocean breeze was cool against your skin, a welcome contrast to the heat that still clung to the barโs wooden beams and sun-warmed deck. You leaned against the railing, typing one last line into your reply before hitting send.
Behind you, the door creaked open.
You didnโt need to turn to know it was him.
The silence that followed his arrival was weighted, taut โ a held breath between opposing forces. You waited for him to speak. He didnโt. So you broke the silence first.
โIf youโre here to ask me again, save your breath.โ
Jake stopped a few feet away. โCome on, Counselor. I havenโt even said anything yet.โ
You turned, giving him a pointed look. โYet.โ
His mouth twitched, like he was fighting a smile. โYou know, I always assumed you hated me because Iโm annoyingly good-looking and smarter than I look. But now Iโm starting to think you just enjoy saying no.โ
โOr,โ you said, โI just enjoy peace and quiet. Which tends to evaporate around you.โ
He moved closer, the boards creaking under his boots. โLook, I get it. You think Iโm a walking ego trip with a pilotโs license.โ
โI know you are.โ
โFine. But desperate timesโฆโ He exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. โLook, I wouldnโt ask if I had another option. But this isnโt just about the wedding. Itโs about my mom. Sheโsโฆ sheโs excited. Like, really excited. Sheโs already baking pies and digging out photo albums.โ
You raised a brow. โSo lie to her again. Tell her your fake girlfriend bailed.โ
Jake shook his head. โSheโll never believe that. And the minute I walk in alone, sheโll be looking at me like I kicked a puppy and let it die in the rain.โ
You stared at him for a moment, arms crossed.
He sighed. โSheโs justโฆ lonely. Since my dad passed. This is the first time sheโs had people over in months. And I think she was holding out hope โ not for me and Lila, exactly, but for me at all.โ
Your brow softened slightly. Not much, but enough.
Jake noticed.
He took a step closer. โAnd yeah, okay, maybe I made it worse by lying. But I was trying to give her something to look forward to. Something to smile about.โ
The breeze picked up, brushing a strand of hair across your face. You pushed it back absently, still watching him.
โYou rehearsed that speech?โ
Jake tilted his head. โWould it help if I said yes?โ
โNo.โ
He huffed a laugh, rubbing the back of his neck again. โAlright. What if we made a deal?โ
You narrowed your eyes. โWhat kind of deal?โ
โYou come with me. Play the part. Just for a week. Be charming, hold my hand, maybe let me kiss you once in front of my grandmaโโ
โAbsolutely not.โ
He raised his hands in surrender. โFine. Weโll negotiate. But in exchangeโฆ Iโll owe you one.โ
You looked unimpressed. โYou already owe me several.โ
โOkay,โ he said, licking his lips. โThen name it.โ
You paused.
And Jake saw it โ the flicker of something behind your eyes. Calculating. Weighing.
Then, slowly, you said, โI have a work dinner coming up. One of those old boysโ club nights where the firm pretends not to care about your personal life while absolutely caring about your personal life.โ
He nodded cautiously. โOkayโฆโ
โIโve been shortlisted for a partner-track promotion,โ you said, looking out toward the water. โBut the firmโs obsessed with โwell-roundedness.โ Family. Stability. Being seen as the kind of person they can build the brand around.โ
Jake blinked. โYou want to bring me as your date to your law firmโs fancy dinner?โ
You turned back to him. โYou said youโd do anything.โ
โI thought you meant, likeโฆ carry groceries. Wash your car. Not wear a suit and be judged by ten Harvard grads and a managing partner named Gregory.โ
โWell,โ you said dryly, โwelcome to my world.โ
Jake studied you for a long moment. โSo we fake date. For each otherโs benefit.โ
โOne week in Texas. One night in a downtown ballroom.โ
You held out your hand.
Jake looked down at it, then back at you.
โGod help us both,โ he muttered, and shook it.
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