8. Izzy
Izzy
Aproposal.
My mind short-circuits, or maybe it’s just the fact that I can smell his crisp cologne.
Jack’s wearing a thin, cream pullover sweater, worn jeans, and brown boots.
I understand now why he has those underwear and watch campaigns.
He hasn’t shaved yet, so there’s dark stubble along his jaw.
I thought his blue eyes were mesmerizing before, but now, with his gold-rimmed glasses, I can’t stop staring.
Don’t do it. Don’t do it. Don’t do it.
“I’ll listen,” I say finally, proud of myself when my voice doesn’t waver.
It doesn’t matter that I’m holding myself up because my legs feel like Jell-O.
“What kind of proposal?” I cross my arms, trying to ignore how the morning light catches his hair, turning it almost golden.
I need to sound professional, not like someone whose brain just turned to static because Jack Murphy walked into her bookstore looking like a Brooks Brothers ad come to life.
Another group of customers walks into the store. It’s madness today. Nosy neighbors, curious out-of-towners, jokes from Zoe, pings on social media about that dumb photo spreading like wildfire.
We turn around and flash friendly smiles. The woman sends a not-so-subtle elbow into her friend’s side before they duck into the romantasy section.
The speculation that Boston’s favorite notoriously single forward is spotted with the same woman twice in a row has put a target on my back.
Yes, it’s certainly drawing more foot traffic, but it feels like I’m losing control over my life, and somehow not addressing it is turning into a bigger problem.
Jack peeks behind him, then leans closer, dropping his voice. “Listen, for whatever reason, people are assuming that we’re dating. You’re the mystery girl.”
“Not much of a mystery. Everyone knows who I am.”
His shoulders sag. “You don’t want to be my mystery girl?”
“I don’t want to be your girl at all, Jack.”
He playfully pulls at his V-neck sweater. “Well, that’s going to make this a little more challenging.”
“I thought you liked it easy.”
He fights back a grin. “You’re kind of a smart-ass, you know that?”
“I’m a lot of things.” I straighten up and peer around him. “Anything I can help you find?” I say to the ladies in the back.
One of the women at the back shifts her overflowing tote higher on her shoulder. “Actually, yes.”
My attention darts back to Jack, his eyes already locked on my mouth before he meets my gaze a second later. Too late. He’s so…
“Hold that thought, Murphy. Two minutes.”
The customers are practically vibrating with curiosity, stealing glances at him, then over to me.
I rush through the transaction, hyperaware of Jack wandering the store, picking up books and reading back covers like he has all the time in the world.
Like my entire life isn’t hanging in the balance of whatever ridiculous thing he’s about to propose.
Once we’re alone again, he finishes: “Well, listen, I’ve been at this a while, and all PR is good PR—”
“Meaning?”
“Think about it. People think you’re dating me. The store is busier. You make more money.”
Unfortunately, that’s exactly what I need. I have two months to prove I can afford the expansion to Mr. Piersanti.
“What do you get out of it?”
“I—”
Oh my god, is he blushing? “Jack?” There’s a slight giggle to my question.
“Listen, no one really wants my help, and you can’t even fucking stand me. So I understand if you say no. I just thought it was a—” He turns around. “Never mind. It was a dumb idea.”
“No, wait,” I urge. “Go ahead. Finish that thought.”
“I spent a lot of time at the ice rink here in town growing up. It’s where I learned to skate, where I got into my first fight.
The state championship banner that hangs there?
I was center that year in high school.” He clears his throat, and something in his expression shifts, softer.
“It’s falling apart. Developers want to demolish it and build beachfront condos.
I want to save it. Create a free youth hockey program, give other kids the same shot I had.
” He rushes that last bit like he’s embarrassed by his own sincerity.
I’m not really sure what to say. “That’s actually… nice. But where do I come into all of this?”
He stuffs his hands in his jeans pockets, then shifts his attention out to Main Street. “I just—you know what? I fucking hit my head last night, so clearly I’m not thinking straight. Forget it.”
He’s flustered. Vulnerable in a way I wasn’t expecting, and something in me melts before I can stop it. “No, I’ll listen.”
“For that to happen, I’ll need to work with a major sponsor. I have one that’s interested, and there’s a meeting set for the first week of January.” He rakes his hand through his hair. “There’s a catch though. They want someone community-focused and family-friendly.”
“Well, you’re already so great at that. Getting your brains bashed in will really win them over.”
He arches a brow, and I crack a grin.
“They want a wholesome small-town romance angle. Very Hallmark.”
“You want to use me to impress a sponsor? The whole plan sounds crazy, Jack. Besides, I don’t know how I feel about lying to everyone.”
“I’m proposing we help each other. You said you’ve been swamped since the rumors about us started. You get customers, I get good press. It’s a win-win.”
“Business has been good, and I’m working toward something…” I can’t bring myself to tell him. “But I have to be with you?” As soon as I say it, I realize how mean it sounds. “Sorry. That’s not what I mean. I just—how would it even work?”
“Three dates,” he says. “We’ll make sure that we share the pictures we want to share and plan the dates we’re comfortable with. We control the narrative. After three dates, we break up and move on. You’ll have a kickass Q4, and maybe I’ll convince sponsors to help me save the town’s ice rink.”
“I haven’t even agreed to one. What makes you think I’ll agree to three?”
“I know this is coming out of nowhere, and I’m sorry—I get that I’m trouble. I have a reputation you don’t want to get tangled up with.”
“Well, yeah.”
He adjusts his glasses, drawing my focus back to his black eye.
“I know what you think of me. And yeah, a lot of it’s probably fair. But I ended up in the hospital last night, and it’s not the first time I’ve been one bad hit away from losing everything. And everyone around me is settling down and I just…”
“And you want a girlfriend?” I ask, not quite following.
“No, I don’t want a girlfriend. I just… I want someone to see me for who I am.”
His vulnerability cuts me. It also must nick off a corner of my self-resolve because I say, “Fine, three dates. But I have rules.”
He gestures for me to continue.
“One. No kissing.”
“How are we supposed to convince people we’re dating if we don’t kiss?”
“They can use their imagination. Plenty of couples leave their house without a ridiculous amount of PDA. Two, absolutely no sex.”
“Well, this is quickly becoming less agreeable.”
“Then you’re gonna hate my third rule. No catching feelings. This is strictly business.”
“What do you mean?”
“You can’t fall in love with me, Jack.”
“Who said anything about falling in love?”
I sigh, wrapping a strand of hair around my finger.
“My life is a mess right now, okay? But I’m finally getting everything together.
Good things are happening. The store’s growing, and I actually want to try to lease the space next door for an expansion.
I can’t have you barging into my life and wrecking it all because—” I force myself to breathe, panic swirling inside my chest. “Because it won’t matter to you the same way it matters to me. ”
He opens his mouth, but I keep going.
“You don’t have as much to lose. You probably have some fancy penthouse and all those endorsements and hockey. If this goes wrong and your reputation takes another hit, you’ll be fine. You’ll land on your feet.
“I’ve fought to build this business. It’s everything I have.
It’s… all I have.” I wipe my bangs back from my eyes.
“If I lose the expansion because people think this was all fake, because they think I was using you or you were using me—” My voice cracks.
“I can’t lose this, Jack. I need you to promise you won’t mess it up for me.
And that’s a huge ask because I don’t actually know you. Not really.”
“Izzy—”
“I know who you pretend to be. I know what Sloane and Annie tell me. You’re asking me to trust you with my life.”
Surprise flashes across his face. “Your life?”
“My livelihood!” I blurt out. “My future. Everything I’ve built. My—”
“Your heart.”
The words land between us, heavy. His voice is rough enough to make my panic spike, because he’s right and we both know it.
“That’s what you’re really worried about, right?”
My face burns. I rub at my cheeks and tug my T-shirt that’s suddenly too tight. “No. That’s not—I’m talking about the store.”
“It’s okay if you aren’t.”
“But I am.”
I think I am.
I don’t want to date date Jack Murphy. I don’t care how good he looks in his dumb glasses. And to be clear, it’s really fucking unfair just how incredible he looks in them.
I toss up my hands. I can’t believe I’m doing this. “I will go on three public dates, but only if you agree to my rules.”
“Great.” He rocks back on his heels, and I can see him trying not to smile.
“Good,” I echo back, less convincingly than I’d like.
He glances at the clock and scratches the back of his neck. “All right. Good then. You have my number, and I have yours. I’ll text you soon.”
“Sure.”
He pushes at the door, then stops, spinning toward me. “Hey, Izzy.”
“Yes?”
“You just agreed to go out with me.”
“Only for pretend, Murphy. Oh, and one last thing.”
He raises his eyebrows.
“You have until New Year’s, then we’re done. Three dates or not.”
His lips split into that perfect, handsome grin, reckless as ever, and I try to squash down the butterflies in my stomach.
“Challenge accepted.”
The bell chimes as he steps out, like it’s mocking me. Ring—You’re making a mistake. Ring—what were you thinking? Ring—What the actual fuck? Through the window, he pauses on the sidewalk, shake his head, then pull his hat down low again and stuff his hands in his pockets.
I’ve just agreed to fake-date Jack Murphy. I’m either a genius or an idiot, and I have a sinking feeling I won’t know which until it’s too late.