The Fiance Dilemma (The Long Game #2)

Chapter Eighteen

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

In hindsight, I realized I shouldn’t have used my lips to distract him.

We had agreed on a safe word that night.

So I could have used it. I could have punched his arm. Or pinched his side. Swatted at his ass. Broken into song. Pop, lock, drop it. Pretended to faint. Even screamed or yelped at everyone around me to stop.

But nope.

I’d kissed the man.

My fiancé.

Just a peck on the lips. A brush of my mouth against his.

And effectively shocked the bejesus out of him.

Because all Matthew did was stand there. Arms dangling. Looking all handsome, and tall, and ugh, so hot in that outfit I couldn’t get off my mind, but so very stunned. I wasn’t exaggerating. It’s not like my head had taken one tiny sign of surprise and run with it. For a moment, I’d been sure I’d broken him.

That my kiss had.

I glanced down at the screen of my phone. It wasn’t Page Nine for once. It was the Six Hills Herald. It had taken them a few days, but as Duncan had mentioned, they’d taken the opportunity to publish an article about Andrew and the party he’d thrown at the estate he was renting. I couldn’t figure out why my father’s presence in North Carolina, or the party he’d thrown for me and my fiancé , mattered, but it apparently did. Enough to fill what I was sure equated to several pages in the print edition. Along with more than a few pictures.

Among them, one of the impetuous kiss.

Because of course. How could that not end up there? The drama clearly loved me a little too much to miss out on the chance.

Was I a bad kisser? Had my breath been bad? Had I been the only one who’d felt that craving for his lips that night?

I locked my phone before I answered that and pushed it inside the pocket of my hoodie. Then I finally turned off the engine of the truck. I couldn’t stay parked here any longer than I’d already been. What if Matthew came out the door? Or peeked out the window? It’d look weird. Like I was a stalker, prowling Lazy Elk’s front yard.

I was stalking my fiancé. Thinking of ways I could attack him with my silly, disgusting lips.

I snorted at my own bitterness. Then I braced my hands on the steering wheel and said, out loud, just for me, “Get over it, Josie. So what if he didn’t like you kissing him? The guy gave you an orgasm. And that’s… relevant. Somehow.”

I made no sense, and maybe, just maybe, the kiss had broken me, not him.

I threw open the door of my truck, grabbed the tote bag I had filled to the brim, hung it off my shoulder, and exited the vehicle.

Something on the right side of the property caught my attention.

Something that moved quickly and was small. Something with brown and white feathers. Sebastian? No. We’d returned the Vasquezes’ rooster to the farm. Months ago. For the seventh or eighth time after he’d escaped. But it was him. I was sure. I’d named the thing myself when it was nothing but a cockerel and I’d gotten him for the Vasquezes. As if in response, the runaway rooster cornered the cabin, head pecking and tiny chicken legs quick on the ground, moving past me.

Absolutely not, I thought. No. No. This was enough. If I could take control of something, it would be this. I’d see him back to the farm. I’d take him myself. There was so little in my control at the moment, but this was something I could do. A way to regain some sense of… balance. Power.

Without wasting more time, I dropped the bag on the ground and ran. Yes, I ran after Sebastian Stan. And dang, the rooster was wickedly fast.

Taking immediate notice of me, he doubled his pace with a loud cluck. But I was on a mission now, and I was going to see it succeed. So when he turned the next corner of the cabin, I followed him. And when he came to a slow stop, as if confused or distracted by something near a bush, I closed my hands around his sides and straightened up with a “HA!”

Victory, at last, I thought, turning around with a big vicious smile. Sebastian clucked in complaint, but this was our dance. This was our thing. He escaped and I retrieved him. He—

Something else was there. Someone.

My fiancé.

Shirtless. Skin glistening under the sun. Jumping rope. Wearing headphones over a backward hat.

A backward hat.

Matthew gripped the rope, making it skillfully fly over his head and under his feet. Head and feet. Head and feet. Arms strained. Muscles bunched. Mouth parted with quick puffs of air and face strained. Jaw clenching and unclenching to the rhythm of the rope. There were indents, too. On his hips.

A droplet trickled down his stomach, and I just wanted to move closer. Get a better look. But his body came to a stop, distracting me from that. Muscles still pulsed and flexed and shone and did things muscles do when they are worked to their limit. I wondered how they’d look if…

“Josie?”

My head sprung up. Matthew was panting, looking at me.

I blinked. Then I acted. Much like when I’d kissed him, only this time I had Sebastian Stan at hand. I lifted the rooster in the air, right in front of my face.

He batted his wings, clearly displeased.

“Josie?” Matthew repeated.

This was a new low.

“Heeeey,” I said, dragging the word out for no reason other than to stall. I heard movement, then saw glimpses of golden, glistening skin approaching. Distract. Deflect. “Whatcha doin’, lover?” I grimaced at myself. Lover. Lover? I cleared my throat. “Brother. Whatcha doing, brother?”

“Did you just call me brother ?” he asked, and I could see over the batting of Sebastian’s wings that Matthew had removed his headphones and wrapped them around his very deliciously sweaty— “Were you watching me?” He sounded smug. Ugh. “I’m confused about the chicken, but I can go on, if you’d like.”

“If I’d like?” I asked, for lack of a better thing to say.

“You were clearly interested,” he announced. Now amused on top of smug. “It’s all right. But putting that poor thing down might give you a better view.”

“Ha,” I deadpanned. But I left Sebastian exactly where he was. “So I’m a peeper, so what? You look really shirtless and very shiny and, honestly, hard not to look at when you’re bouncing and—you know, flexing or whatever. And I am a woman. With functioning parts. Functioning eyes. Lady parts that like you, apparently.”

There was a beat of silence, then an “Okay.”

Okay. That was all?

I stretched my neck, glancing over Sebastian. Matthew was right there now. Right in front of me. Or us. So close I was pretty sure Sebastian could peck at his nipple if he wanted to. Maybe I should tell him. Or maybe I should let the rooster bring that grin Matthew was sporting down a notch or two.

“That smile is new,” he said. “I wonder what it means.” I smiled a little wider. He laughed. “You’re cute. Are you plotting something mean? Is this why you’re here? I’m up for it, either way.”

I bit back a retort. The nerve of him, to call me “cute” and not like my lips on his. “You should move away,” I told him. “Before Sebastian pecks at that shiny, glinting chest you love to flash me so much.”

“I thought your lady parts liked it,” he countered. That megawatt grin still there. “And I thought you were putting the bird down.”

“No can do.”

He stepped a little closer, and I lowered Sebastian in an attempt to save his chest. It was a nice one after all. “And why’s that?”

“This is Sebastian Stan, and he’s the Vasquezes’ rooster. I’m returning him to the farm. He likes it here a little too much, it seems. Used to terrorize Adalyn and Cameron all the time. I just… seem to be struggling with logistics with you standing there.”

“So that’s what’s been waking me up at dawn,” he commented. My lips parted with a question. But his next words immediately shot that down. “Besides the idea of you, and that little sound you make, that is.”

My cheeks flushed. I shook my head. “Smooth,” I settled on. Unlike my word, that had come out a little wobbly. Was he talking about my moans? The moans I made on the phone while— “Funny thing to say, for someone who looks so absolutely appalled at me kissing him.”

All amusement vanished from his face. “What?”

I tipped my chin up. Great. So he hadn’t seen the Herald yet. “Nothing.” I took a step to the side. “Not important. Now I’m leaving. Good day.”

He blocked my way. “Put the chicken down, Josie.”

“No,” I said, moving Sebastian higher in front of me. I was being one-hundred-percent ridiculous. But if there was any time in life when I was going to allow myself to be petty, it was this one. After four engagements, I’d just found out I was a bad kisser. “No can do, sir. Bye-bye.”

Matthew mirrored my sidestep. “Don’t make me chase you,” he warned. Calmly. Nonchalantly. “Because I’ll run after that car.”

I snorted at how serious he looked. “Don’t be dramatic.”

“Said the woman using a cockerel-shield.”

My eyes narrowed at the gorgeous, gorgeous man in a backward hat. “If I put him down, he’s going to come after us. He doesn’t like to be picked up like this, in case you haven’t noticed, Sparkles. As gentle as I’ve been. He’ll peck at our heels. He’s fast. Faster than us. Best thing to do at this point is call Robbie. Can you do that?”

“I think we can manage to outrun him.” A shrug of one rounded naked shoulder. “And if you can’t, then I promise not to leave you behind.”

“You’re being awfully smug for a city boy who’s wearing little to no clothing. Do you think those abs of steel are going to protect you?”

Matthew was one-hundred-percent loving this now. He just was. I knew it.

“Fine,” I said when he didn’t answer. “You want to be smug. Then you’d better be smug while you run.”

And before he could react, I lowered Sebastian to the ground and released him as gently as I could. A clucking battle cry left him, and right as I was breaking into a sprint, Matthew snatched my wrist.

We ran in the direction of the house, the squeal leaving me, thanks to the shot of adrenaline making me sound like a fool. As predicted, Sebastian chased us. Poor thing. I really needed to talk to Robbie to see if we should just let him pick his home. I glanced over my shoulder, my eyes getting a little distracted at the sight of Matthew by my side, roaming a little too low, a little too long. And totally missing a log lying somewhere around the backyard. I felt myself trip, cruising the air for a second that stretched, and just before I fell, Matthew’s hands were there, swooping me up.

“That wasn’t a kiss,” he said, pushing up those porch steps with me in his arms, princess-style. “You weren’t kissing me, Josie.”

Brown eyes snatched mine just as we crossed the threshold of the door. He planted me right down. Chests heaving, my jean-clad hips pressed against his. Him. I audibly gulped. Those sweats did nothing to conceal him. The hard outline pressing against the softness of my lower belly. And I didn’t want to acknowledge how good he felt against me like that, how solid, how enthralling or how thoroughly aroused I was, too, for no other reason than him touching me.

That wasn’t a kiss. Hadn’t it been?

My palms fell on his chest, making my breath catch with the sound that left him. A little growl. It made me move into him. I wanted to drag my fingers down. Up. All over him. He made me want so many things, this man. He made me breathless with things I thought I didn’t need.

I stepped away.

Matthew’s gaze flickered down, landing on my hands still splayed on his chest. He reached out for my left, brushing his fingers over my skin. Pausing for a heartbeat over the ring. His ring. My ring. He kept touching it. Looking at it. Making something tighten inside me.

“You weren’t kissing me,” Matthew repeated. “Not really. That wasn’t our first kiss. You’d know if it was.”

Our first kiss.

My heart jumped and plummeted to the ground. All the same. It had been, though. I’d kissed him, even if it had been just a peck.

“Don’t worry.” I retrieved my hands, let them fall to my sides. His eyes found mine again. “I didn’t come here for a repeat. This is not about that. I came here for something else.”

Matthew retrieved the tote bag from the spot beside my truck and returned to the cabin, leaving it with me before heading to the shower with a promise to be quick.

He hadn’t been. Matthew was in that shower for a long time. But I was grateful anyway because I didn’t think I could have done this with him looking all sweaty and shiny and… distracting, sitting across from me. So by the time he returned, I’d had enough time to get everything I’d brought with me neatly organized on the kitchen island, prepare coffee, and connect my phone to the speakers to play my deep-focus playlist. I’d return the rooster to the Vasquezes’ tomorrow.

Today we had work to do.

Matthew’s steps were heavy and slow as he approached again. He hadn’t brushed his wet hair, the usually dirty blond locks darker and messy, some falling over his forehead. I wanted to sweep them back, see every crease in his forehead up close, ask him why he looked so serious, and thank him for discarding the contacts in favor of his glasses. It wasn’t right. My brain was clearly still malfunctioning from that horrible kiss.

That wasn’t our first kiss.

“I’ve prepared coffee,” I told him with what I hoped was an easy smile.

Matthew’s features softened briefly as he poured himself an Americano before coming to a stop at my left. A wave of peppermint and soap and him hit me right in the gut, and ugh, I wanted to lean into his chest so badly. Brush my cheek against the sweatshirt he was wearing. Just enough to feel him through the cotton. Maybe hear his heartbeat. Perched on a stool, I sat at the perfect height to do that.

“Those are your muffins.”

My cheeks warmed the tiniest bit. We both knew that they were my apology muffins. But if I admitted it out loud, if I brought up that night at Andrew’s estate, we’d talk about that kiss again. And I didn’t think I could do it. The muffins weren’t so much about that, they were more about me feeling responsible for Matthew getting so upset over the cameras. I was responsible for his picture being in the Herald, too. Both things could have been avoided if I’d listened to Bobbi. If I wasn’t so na?ve. Hence the muffins.

“I also brought the kale chips you love so much,” I said, pointing at the pink container I kept them in. A breath left him, hitting me on the top of my head. The urge to turn and look at his face was strong, but I was stronger. “Please, take a seat. We have lots of ground to cover.”

Matthew didn’t sit. “What’s all of this, Josie?”

“I want to help you,” I told him. “With your job hunt. I know you might have seen most of these. But you said you’d let me know if you found something, and you haven’t. So you can tell me where you’re at with it, and we can take it from there.” I reached out for one of the binders. “I’ve printed out job ads and classified them by state and field.” I threw it open. “We have Illinois, and then positions that have to do with reporting or content or— Oh, there was an editor for creative ads and media that sounded so cool.” I scanned the sleeves until I found it. “Here.”

I glanced at Matthew and he looked… pensive. Quiet.

“Don’t worry,” I said, pulling at the section divider. “There’s a section for Massachusetts. Most of the ads are for reporter positions. Boston Guardian, Boston Globe, a national media group I can’t remember the name of… but that one’s part-time.” I stole a new glance at him. No change. “You have a nice face and can be very charming. I think you’d look great on camera if you’re open to broadcast journalism?”

Matthew set the mug on the kitchen island. He scratched the back of his neck. “Is there a section for North Carolina?”

“Yes,” I said, a jolt to my chest. “I thought you might want to be close to Adalyn and Cameron.” I kept my gaze on the binder. “And there’s one for Florida, too. I know you met Adalyn in Miami, so I thought you might want to go back?”

There was a long pause, only the slow beats of the music playing in the background filling the silence. Then Matthew moved. He grabbed a stool and planted it next to mine before plopping down. I seemed to hold my breath for a reason I didn’t understand. As if I was waiting for something.

“When did you do all of this?” he asked. “This must have taken hours.”

I swallowed, dragging my palms down the plastic sleeve in front of me. “A couple of nights ago.”

Matthew’s breath was deep and forceful and sounded like a complaint.

“I haven’t been able sleep,” I explained, keeping my voice up, happy. Normal. “Which is not rare for me. My head sometimes doesn’t shut up. So I baked. Researched. Printed. Classified. Filed. It was very relaxing, and I was just glad I had something to keep myself busy.”

Another of those exhales left him. “Look at me, Baby Blue.”

I ignored the pressure in my throat, chest, belly, everywhere, and complied.

“Thank you,” he said, and God, Matthew had never sounded or looked so… earnest. Moved. Like the two words were coming from someplace other than his mouth. Someplace deep inside him. His Adam’s apple bobbed, and he turned my stool, angling my body toward him, as if he wanted all my attention. “I wish I could find the right words to tell you how fucking grateful, and blown away, I am right now. I wish…” He shook his head. “I wish I could show you.”

Everything in me eased, taken aback by how much he meant that and how little I had done. “These are just printouts,” I whispered. “It’s the least I can do. You… You’re looking for a job. And I wasn’t doing anything for you. Not like you are for me. That wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair.”

A muscle in his jaw jumped, and when he said, “That couldn’t be further from the truth,” I didn’t ask what he referred to. His hand reached out, fingers tucking a strand of my hair behind my ear. It wasn’t right how I could feel something so simple, so plain, so cliché if you will, so deep inside. “You’re nothing I expected, Josie,” he said softly. So softly it almost hurt. “I told you that night. But now I know you’re nothing I deserve, either.”

I frowned. “You deserve this,” I told him. And I’d been doing such a good job at trying not to talk about something that made him uncomfortable. Something he’d never brought up but that I knew. “It’s just help. It was unfair that they fired you because you refused to give them some scoop about Adalyn and Cameron. It’s unfair that they’re getting away with saying they were laying people off anyway. In fact, I’m sure there’s a way we could sue them. We can look into that. I’ll help you lawyer up. I have connections, I promise I can help with that.”

Matthew smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Do you know where I worked, Josie?”

“Some media and entertainment conglomerate,” I told him. “They own newspapers and online outlets across the country, or something like that. I can’t recall the specifics. I just know they don’t have principles and were very dumb to let you go.”

“They don’t have them, no,” Matthew agreed. “One of the outlets they own is Page Nine.”

Oh. “I… I didn’t know that. I probably should have asked.”

“I should have told you.” The corners of his mouth fell. “Page Nine is where I worked for the past year. My boss, Marissa, took me with her after a management change there. It’s not rare to move people around. It was an adjustment, but I figured out soon enough how tabloids worked. News is news, no matter what the subject. It’s more about who you know than anything else. And with social media, there’s a lot more work in the tabloid industry than what most people think.”

“So you wrote things like the stuff being said about me? And Andrew? Us?”

“I’m not proud of myself,” he said. And I believed him. “I always thought I was somewhat fair, that everything I wrote was not crossing some imaginary line I’d drawn for myself. I checked sources, made sure everything was factual. But I could only control so much.” A sigh left him. “Filthy Reali-Tea is scripted, to give you an example. But that doesn’t mean you can predict what Sam and Nick will say. The whole thing is edited, but they occasionally get vicious, and people love that. It’s big part of their success.”

I processed that. All of it, really. I was surprised, it had obviously caught me off guard, but I… didn’t feel betrayed. Just confused. I should have told you. “Why didn’t you tell me this? When I asked you to help me that morning, here, in this kitchen?”

That muscle in his jaw jumped. “You said you needed me. Me.”

The weight of his answer made my next breath a little harder. “Why didn’t you say anything at any point after that?”

“I thought you’d break things off. That you wouldn’t trust me.”

Break things off.

Break what? I should have asked. What was between us was meant to be broken either way. But I wasn’t an idiot. I wasn’t blind. I could see, as much as I tried to deny it, that there was something else between Matthew and I. Something that had always made me gravitate toward him, and now had become this living, pulsing thing growing in the space we’d carefully put in place with those rules.

“Is that why they aren’t talking about you? Because they know you?”

The quality of his gaze changed. “You’re assuming that the reason is in part what made me keep this from you. I wish—” He stopped himself. “I wish I could have spared you all this ugliness, Josie.”

“I’m not as na?ve as you paint me to be, Matthew. I don’t need to be sheltered—”

“You’re not.” He let out a hard breath. “And you don’t need to be sheltered, no. Because you’re smart. Way smarter than me. Fierce. Brave. Kind. You’ll assume the best in people because that’s who you are. You have a heart so fucking big, there’s room for everyone there. And I love that about you. All of those things. That’s what I wish I could protect.”

I love that about you.

That’s what I wish I could protect.

My heart tripped over itself.

I… was struggling to keep myself from… From what? From asking him to take all of that back? From asking him to expand, to tell me that he wants some of that space in my heart? From jumping in his lap and just…

“Then we’ll find you something else,” I told him. “Something as far away from gossip and tabloids and podcasts as we can go. You’re incredibly smart, Matthew. Determined, too. And the fact that you have a moral compass is a good thing.” Something flashed in his eyes. Was that hurt? I averted my gaze for a moment. “You tried to make the best out of a situation that was out of your control. You said no. You protected Adalyn and Cameron. And then you protected me too. Because I needed you. Like you said.”

His gaze dipped to the space between us. And I realized I’d been fidgeting. No, shaking. My hands were shaking. He clasped them, gently but tightly, with that emotion I’d been seeing in his eyes. The one that made it impossible for me look away. I felt his thumb graze the ring. And I’d become so used to the weight, its presence, that him touching it felt as if he was touching a part of me.

“It was my grandma’s engagement ring,” he said, and I swore I stopped breathing. “My grandpa made a couple of modifications before proposing to her. The stone at the center was the color of her eyes. It’s not that rare to have it there, but it usually is a solid heart.”

Something thundered in my chest. I’d figured it was a family heirloom. Of course I had. But this? This I hadn’t expected. “It’s beautiful,” I breathed out. “I wasn’t lying when I said that.”

“It’s beautiful on you.”

My heart fluttered. But I had to keep it down. I had to try not to ruin this. Us. Whatever that was. I didn’t want whatever was in his eyes to go away. “The first thing I thought when you gave it to me was how hard it’ll be to part with it.”

Matthew’s eyes held mine, intently, urgently, unsaid words that made me regret my own staring back at me. “You’ve been wearing it upside down,” he said. He held my hand higher. Impossibly gently too. “According to my grandma, the heart should be facing toward you. To indicate you’re taken. She said some people wait to be married to turn it around, but that Flanagans never did.” My chest squeezed, a tide of emotion rising, flooding everything in its wake. “Not saying anything has been driving me insane.”

Neither of us spoke.

I’d come here to help Matthew find a job, with the promise of making this afternoon about him, and I’d somehow ended up sitting under the weight of his gaze, more preoccupied with the way he was making me feel. The way my ears seemed to ring with something that demanded to be heard. The way my chest moved up and down.

We were engaged, but I wasn’t his. He wasn’t mine. We had rules and were not getting married.

It was us who were backward. Facing the other way. Not the ring.

Would he turn it, then? Make the heart point the right way? Would I turn this whole thing around? Could I?

Matthew’s grasp changed. His thumb and index finger closed around my finger, gently, decisively. The air in my lungs seized. “Josie,” he whispered, voice hushed. Low. “Christ,” he cursed, huffing out a laugh. “The ring’s facing the wrong way,” he repeated. “Do you understand what I’m telling you?”

My heart cartwheeled, pirouetting around my chest. I wanted to nod yes, of course I understood, but I was overcome. This was all so backward I couldn’t even breathe. I couldn’t even make sense of how to speak. My lips parted.

A phone rang.

It wasn’t loud, but it startled me.

Matthew’s gaze remained on me. Set. Waiting.

“You should get that,” I finally managed to say.

“It’s my sister,” he answered, body still, studying me. “Tay. She can wait. She’s been calling all day.”

All those questions I’d had about his family resurfaced, grounding me. Sobering me up. “It sounds important,” I told him. It cost me a great deal, an intricate part of me, but I pulled my hand away. “I’ll go.”

Matthew frowned. “I don’t want you to leave.”

Once again, I forced myself to speak words I didn’t want to say. “They don’t know about me, do they? About this being a lie? They think I’m the woman in the press, because I asked you to lie to them. I asked you to lie to everyone as much as you made me believe it was a call we were both making.” I made myself smile, even though I felt horrible and ugly and undeserving of the way he looked at me. The ring on my finger. “It’s okay. It really is. I just think I should go and you should talk to your sister. I’ll leave all of this here, okay?”

His lips thinned. And he stared at me, deep in thought, that emotion still clear and bright in the brown of his eyes. My smile wavered, turning a little crooked in a way that couldn’t be cute. I jumped off the stool and brushed a kiss on his cheek.

“New rule,” he said, the words stopping me. “I kiss you.”

My voice came out weakly, tired. I didn’t want a new rule. I didn’t want rules at all. “That’s already one.”

“No.” His head gave a shake. “We don’t just kiss if we must, from now on. I kiss you. I kiss you like I’ve wanted to do for weeks now. Not because we have to, but because I fucking need to.” A breath heaved out of his chest. “Because you need me to. And because you know what it’ll mean, no matter what’s down the line.”

“Matthew,” I started.

But he climbed off the stool and he stepped into me. He set his palm around the back of my neck and brought me to his chest. I realized the moment my cheek touched him, the moment I melted right into him, how much I’d needed it. This. Him.

“Yes or no?” he asked. “I’m not letting you leave until you answer me.” His chest moved up and down. “Yes or no? I have no problem staying like this all day.”

A strange laugh broke out of me, and I did all I could do in that moment.

I nodded my head.

“Yes.”