Page 13

I groan, shut my eyes, and pressCallbefore I can second-guess myself.

The phone barely rings twice before his deep, familiar voice fills my ear.

"Bennett."

One word. My last name. A low, knowing drawl.

I hate that it does something to me.

"We have a problem," I say, skipping right past pleasantries.

A pause. "That bad?"

I swallow. "Yeah."

Silence stretches for a beat. Then, "I'm on my way."

Fifteen minutes later, there's a knock at my door.

I exhale, smoothing my palms over my thighs before pulling it open.

And there he is.

Liam Carter, standing in my doorway like a problem I don't know how to solve. He's in his trademark clothes—tailored slacks, a crisp white dress shirt rolled to the elbows—but he's ditched the tie, and there's a faint shadow of stubble along his jaw, like he's had a long day and no patience for a razor. I curse inwardly at how he manages to look so effortlessly beautiful. It's just unfair.

His gaze flicks over me, assessing, lingering for just a second too long. "You gonna let me in, or are we handling this from the hallway?"

I huff out a breath and step aside.

Liam walks in, his presence too much in my small space. He scans the room briefly—the fairy lights, the cluttered bookshelf, the bright yellow couch I bought on an impulse because it made me happy—and then turns to me, expectant.

I don't say anything, just hold out my phone.

His brows pull together as he takes it, but the second he sees the message, his expression hardens.

"Shit." His voice is low, but he sounds unsurprised.

"So, I take it you got the same one?" I fold my arms over my chest, trying not to look as rattled as I feel.

Liam doesn't answer right away. Instead, he swipes through the image—the grainy, blurred shot of us kissing under the vineyard lights—and finally nods stiffly. "Yeah. Last night."

I wait for him to say more, but he doesn't, just hands my phone back and pinches the bridge of his nose like he's fighting a headache.

"So," I say, crossing my arms. "Any brilliant ideas?"

Liam's jaw ticks. "One."

I lift a brow. "And?"

His gaze meets mine, steady. "We pretend to be dating."

I blink. "I'm sorry—what?"

"If that photo gets leaked, people are going to make their own assumptions," he says, looking at me like he's just said the most obvious thing. "Your brothers. Your family. Everyone in town. And the second that happens, we lose control of the narrative."

I stare at him, my eyes as wide as saucers. "So your solution is to pretend we're a couple?"

Liam shrugs, like it's simple. "We say we've been seeing each other. If people already know, they won't go digging."