Page 38 of Make-Believe Match

I grabbed my purse and followed him out, making sure the door was locked behind me. The early morning air was chilly, and I shivered as Devlin placed my luggage next to his in the back of a white SUV.

“Are you cold?” he asked, looking at my bare arms.

“A little. But I’ve got a cardigan packed.”

“I’ve got a sweatshirt right here.” He unzipped his bag, reached in, and pulled out a navy blue crewneck. “Yours if you want it.”

“Thanks.” Tossing my bag on the floor of the front seat, I pulled the sweatshirt over my head. It was huge on me, of course, the sleeves immense and the hem hitting me mid-thigh. It said Two Buckleys Home Improvement on it. “What’s this?” I asked, pointing at the logo.

“It’s my family’s business,” he said. “My grandfather and his dad started it, and my father and uncle took it over. When my uncle died, my brother Austin came on board, although he’s leaving to start his own company soon. He makes furniture out of reclaimed wood.”

“So your family is handy,” I said. “Are you?”

“I’m good with my hands. Does that count?”

Our eyes met. His mouth hooked up on one side, sending a hot little current zipping along my nerve endings. “I suppose it does,” I said slowly.

He gave me the full wattage of his smile and opened the passenger door. “Hop in.”

Right away I smelled coffee and spied the cardboard cups in the center console’s holders. Devlin got behind the wheel, slipped on his sunglasses, and turned on the engine. “The one in front is for you. Two packets of half and half, one sugar.”

I picked up the cup in front and inhaled the heavenly scent drifting from the opening in the lid. “Thank you. But how did you know how I take my coffee?”

“Easy, it was in the dossier I had compiled on you before I followed you to The Broken Spoke in order to tie you to the train tracks and force you to sell me your ski resort.”

I gave him the side-eye. “Very funny.”

“You left a cup of coffee on the table at lunch last week. I notice things.” He left the parking lot and turned onto the road leading away from Snowberry. “I take my coffee black, if you’d like to know.”

I took a sip. It was the perfect balance of bitter and creamy sweet, and the warmth of the cup in my hands and his sweatshirt on my body relaxed me a little. “So what’s the plan, mastermind?”

“I booked us two tickets to Vegas and a room at The Bellagio.”

“Just one?”

“Well, I thought it might look a little strange if newlyweds booked separate rooms.”

I took another sip. “There better be two beds.”

“There’s a couch. I made sure.” He reached for his coffee. “But—and I’m just putting this out there—if at any time you want to mix business with pleasure, I’m in.”

“Not a chance,” I said. “This marriage is strictly for show. Rule number one isno sex.”

“I thought rule number one was no undressing out in the open.”

“Then rule number two is no sex.”

“Is there a rule number three?”

I thought for a moment. “Yes. There needs to be an agreed-on end point. A finish line.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, we’re both going into this with clearly established goals. I want Snowberry, and you want revenge, which you’ll get when you prevent the sale to Black Diamond from going through. So let’s agree right now that the marriage is over once the investment is secured, the work is underway, and Snowberry is mine.” I looked over at him. “How long do you think that will take?”

He exhaled. Took another sip of his coffee. “I’ll make some phone calls. But assuming your grandmother at least gives you power of attorney once we show proof we’re married, I think I could get the money within a month. Two at the most. Work could begin in November. But since the remodel is so extensive, we’re going to have to shutter for this season. Start fresh next ski season.”

“Shuttering for one season is better than closing forever.” I liked the way he saidwe. “There aren’t that many reservations anyway. I’m more worried about longtime staff that’s been loyal.”