Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
Eva
Yeah, that just happened. Why did I offer myself as Esteban’s fake fiancée?
One second I was sipping my drink, trying not to drool over how good he looked in that white T-shirt, and the next I was volunteering as tribute like we were in the damn Hunger Games.
I knew the moment the words left my mouth that Noah was going to flip. And oh, boy, did he. The way his face twisted, pure big brother panic, was priceless. If I hadn’t been too busy internally screaming at myself, I probably would’ve taken a picture.
Honestly, I get it. I really do. Esteban’s always been the wildest of the trio. The flirty one. The one who could charm the panties off a nun if he tried hard enough. And my brother, being the overprotective, dad-figure he is, just about had an aneurysm.
But once he finally caved and gave us the go-ahead, I couldn’t help but smile.
Because here’s the truth. Noah thinks he has to protect me from Esteban. What he doesn’t realize is that Esteban’s never looked at me like that. Not once. Not when I was a scrawny pre-teen trying to follow the boys around the lake, and definitely not now.
The problem isn’t him.
It’s me.
I’m the one who’s been quietly thirsting after him since the second he walked into The Honey Tavern like he owned the damn air around him.
Ashton was right, Esteban is all man now. Broad shoulders. That sinful beard. The way his jeans fit like they were tailored for sin. And don’t even get me started on the way he smells—like cedarwood and just a hint of trouble.
I haven’t stopped imagining what it’d feel like to have that rugged face between my thighs.
Yeah… I’m the liability in this fake relationship.
While the rest of the group moves to the dance floor, Noah dragging Josy like they’re still in high school and Austin twirling Violet like it’s prom night, Esteban excuses himself to talk to someone at the bar. Leaving me with Ashton and Payton, which means… chaos.
Payton turns toward me with a wicked grin. “So. Fake engagement, huh? That’s hot.”
“I just want it on record that I’m deeply offended Esteban didn’t ask me to be his fake fiancé first.” Ashton crosses his arms and pouts dramatically.
“You?” Payton raises a brow. “Please. You’d turn the whole thing into a Broadway production.”
“Exactly,” he says, dead serious. “You think this McNeal dude wouldn’t have been impressed by a full choreographed proposal set to Beyoncé? Missed opportunity.”
Payton snorts. “You’d upstage the bride at her own fake wedding.”
“I am the bride,” Ashton says, flipping imaginary hair over his shoulder.
They bicker for a second, Payton calling him a drama queen, Ashton proudly agreeing, while I laugh into my drink, shaking my head.
“Guys,” I say, “you do realize this is just pretend, right? Like, this isn’t some fairytale romance novel. It’s a strategic business move.”
“Strategic,” Ashton repeats, raising a brow. “Is that what we’re calling it now? Because the way you were eyeing Esteban like a triple chocolate brownie says otherwise.”
“Shut up.”
“No, you shut up,” he grins. “Girl, you’re about to live out every Wattpad fantasy ever written.”
“I’m trying to focus on my career, thank you very much,” I say, crossing my arms dramatically. “I didn’t come back to Honey Springs to fake date my brother’s best friend. I came to start my business.”
“Oooh, business talk,” Payton says, leaning in. “I love this for us. Give us the scoop.”
I perk up a little, because this part? This is mine.
“I’m planning to launch a skincare line,” I say, trying not to squeal. “Formulas I’ve been working on since grad school. All clean ingredients, science-based, good for all skin types. I want to build a site, start online, and eventually expand.”
Ashton gasps like I just handed him a diamond ring. “Eva. Eva. Why didn’t you tell me this sooner?”
I blink. “I… I don’t know? It’s still in baby stages.”
“Well, consider this your baptism by beauty fire,” he declares. “You’re getting a spot at my salon.”
My eyes go wide. “Wait. What?”
“I’m serious! We’ll clear a corner, set up a little shelf with your products, and put up a ring light so you can record stuff right there. You’re an influencer, people will drive from the next county just to see you in person. It’ll boost both our businesses.”
I blink again, a slow grin spreading across my face. “That’s actually… genius.”
“Obviously.”
“And I love the idea of talking to people about skincare in person,” I say, feeling the little flutter of excitement in my chest. “Making it personal, educational, and accessible.”
Payton beams. “It’s giving boss era.”
“It’s giving entrepreneur energy,” Ashton says, lifting his glass.
“I’m thinking I’ll start by selling brands I actually recommend—you know, the ones that are legit—while I finish developing my own line,” I explain, excitement bubbling up in my chest. “Once that’s ready, I’ll go exclusive with my stuff.”
“Yes, girl,” Payton says, already in planning mode. “We’ll sit down this week, put all the details on paper, and get you rolling ASAP.”
“You are amazing, Ashton. Seriously, thank you so much.”
“Babe,” he says, placing a hand over his heart dramatically, “that’s what best friends are for. We hype, we help, we handle business.”
Our talk gets interrupted when Esteban slides into the seat next to me. We all look at him while he just stares at me like I’ve suddenly grown a second head. I blink at him, then glance at Payton and Ashton, who are very obviously watching us like we’re a soap opera episode.
What the actual fuck is happening right now?
After a few more seconds of intense staring, I finally break the silence. “Are you okay?”
Esteban blinks like he’s coming out of a trance. “Sure. I was just… admiring how grown up you look. It’s just… amazing.”
I raise a brow. “Okay. You look old too.”
“Mi amor, I am not old. What are you talking about?” he says, all mock offense and dramatic flair.
“I’m saying you look older. Just like I look older. That’s what happens when time passes. It’s called aging.”
Payton narrows her eyes at him. “Esteban, you are acting very weird. Should we worry?”
“No, no.” He clears his throat and straightens up like he’s putting on his business hat. “Actually, I came over because I need your number.”
“My number?” I squeak.
He nods, pulling out his phone. “Yeah. We should make a plan for this whole fake engagement thing. Set up a time to talk, lay out the details. You know, like a proper business arrangement.”
Ashton gasps and clutches his chest. “Esteban, are you asking her out on a fake fiancée planning date? I’m blushing.”
Esteban shoots him a glare. “It’s not a date. It’s logistics.”
“Sure,” Ashton sings. “Logistics with lingering eye contact and subtle tension. Got it.”
Esteban turns to me, desperate now. “Can you please tell your bestie this is strictly business?”
I hold back a laugh and nod, playing it cool even though my stomach is doing Olympic-level flips. “Strictly business. Definitely.”
Even though I say it with a straight face, I feel the warmth creep up my neck.
My body is not on the same page as my brain.
I’m supposed to be chill. In control. Not sitting here imagining what Esteban smells like up close or wondering if his beard feels as good as it looks.
I swear I haven’t had this much internal chaos since my chem finals in college.
Handing me his phone, I type in my number, giving it back like we didn’t just enter the Twilight Zone of fake relationships and unresolved sexual tension.
“There. Shoot me a text,” I say as casually as I can manage.
“Will do,” he says, his fingers brush mine as he takes the phone back. Of course they do. Because the universe is rude.
Payton kicks me under the table, and I give her a death glare while she smirks knowingly.
Yep. I’m doomed.
Esteban pockets his phone, and for a second, his gaze lingers on mine. There’s something unreadable in his expression, like he’s trying to say something but decides against it. Then, with a nod that’s just a little too stiff, he gets up.
“I’ll text you tomorrow,” he says, addressing the whole group like we’re all in on this corporate merger.
“I won’t be late to our board meeting,” I say, keeping my voice playful, even though my insides are still doing backflips.
He lets out a short laugh, then disappears into the crowd again.
The second he’s out of earshot, Payton leans in so fast I nearly spill my drink.
“Okay, what was that?”
Ashton fans himself with a cocktail napkin. “That man was giving ‘I’m trying to act normal, but I might combust’ energy.”
I shake my head, forcing a laugh. “You two are ridiculous.”
“No, you’re ridiculous,” Payton says. “Trying to sit there all cool and collected when we all saw your pupils dilate like you were about to pounce.”
“I did not—” I start, but Ashton cuts in.
“Oh please, you looked at him like you were one spilled drink away from climbing into his lap and declaring war on self-control.”
I cover my face with both hands. “Why are you both like this?”
“Because we love you,” Ashton says sweetly. “And because this fake engagement is about to give me life. I want weekly updates. No—daily. I want mood boards. Vibe checks. Progress reports on sexual tension levels.”
Payton points at me with her straw. “And I want you to stop pretending you’re not into him. We’re not blind.”
“I am very good at faking being composed,” I say.
“Oh honey,” Ashton smirks. “Not from where I’m sitting.”
I shake my head and laugh despite myself. “You guys are the worst.”
“And yet, here we are. Front row seats to your romantic drama,” Payton grins. “It’s giving season premiere.”
“It’s giving slow burn disaster,” Ashton says with a wink.
“It’s giving shut up you drama queens.” I lift my drink. “To fake love, business meetings, and absolutely no real feelings involved.”
They clink their glasses against mine, and Payton grins. “To denial. The sexiest stage of grief.”
I groan. “God help me.”