Page 33 of The Cuddle Clause

He leaned back just enough to be out of napkin reach, grinning like he’d won the lottery. “Admit it. I make scavenger hunts fun.”

“I’ll admit you’re lucky I didn’t bring a water gun.”

He raised a brow, smirk deepening. “Next round.”

And there, on the steps of a tourist-packed chocolate shop, in the middle of a ridiculous competition we hadn’t asked for, I felt that dangerous flutter in my chest again.

The one that whispered this wasn’t just fun.

That this wasn’t just a game. This was us, and it was starting to feel terrifyingly real.

The next clue from Lucien’s app arrived just as we scraped the sundae bowl clean. The phone chimed with its ridiculous fanfare, the script glowing on the screen like Lucien had personally enchanted it to ensure no one could ignore it: Seal your fate with a sea-born witness.

I groaned, stretching my legs out in front of me. “I swear, if Lucien tries to make us kiss a fish for points, I’m out.”

Roman laughed, standing and offering me his hand. I took it, letting him pull me to my feet. “Come on, sunshine bean. Let’s go find some sea-born witnesses.”

We made the short drive to Fisherman’s Wharf, the familiar clamor of the place greeting us even before we got out of the car. The scent of saltwater mingled with fried food and street vendor spices, the calls of vendors pitching their wares blending with the bark of sea lions from the docks.

We found the cluster of sea lions sprawled across the wooden floats like it was their domain and we humans were intruders. The night had drawn a smaller crowd—tourists snapping pictures, couples leaning against railings, the city lights throwing silver ripples across the dark water.

Roman pulled me closer to the edge, his hand finding mine again like it had every right to be there. Like we weren’t still pretending. Like this wasn’t all part of some elaborate show.

“There they are,” he said, nodding toward the loudest of the lot. “Majestic beasts in their natural habitat. Observe as they laze, unbothered, the true kings of the Wharf.”

Snorting, I pulled out my phone. “Stop. I can’t take a picture if you’re making me laugh.”

He straightened a little, dropping into his best mock-documentary narrator tone. “Watch as the female attempts to capture photographic evidence of the wild sea lion, whose only predator is—”

One of the sea lions lunged closer, barking loud enough to make me jump out of my skin. Instinct had me grabbing Roman’s hand, my fingers tightening around his.

He didn’t flinch. Just laced our fingers together, warm and steady, as he tugged me back a step. “Easy,” he said, his thumb brushing mine, the words more for me than for the sea lion. “They’re just trying to impress you.”

My heart was racing, but not from fear anymore. From him. From that stupid, casual way he calmed me like it was as natural as breathing.

We got the selfie—me still half-laughing, half-shaky, Roman grinning like he owned the night.

The next clue was already waiting, but I didn’t rush to check it.

I wanted to stay in this moment, his hand in mine, the city at our backs, the water stretching out in front of us, and pretend that this wasn’t just a game. That this was real. That this was ours.

The next clue scrolled across my screen: Harness the city’s magic—ride its steel steed.

I groaned, tucking the phone into my jacket pocket as Roman steered us toward the nearest streetcar stop. “Steel steed? Is Lucien okay? Should we be checking his search history?”

Roman laughed, and it did something to me. Heat spread low in my belly, and boy, if I wasn’t standing, I’d be crossing my legs and clenching my thighs. “I’m telling you, he’s been up late making scavenger hunt clues and Pinterest boards. He’s going to push a pack scavenger hunt every holiday.”

“We’ll be dodging magical mistletoe and enchanted Easter eggs before the year’s out,” I said.

The streetcar rumbled up, its brass fittings catching the glow of the streetlights.

We climbed aboard, hanging off the side like kids on summer break, the city unfolding around us in a blur of lights and movement.

The clang of the bell mixed with the low hum of the city, the scent of salt and pavement and rain-damp brick wrapping around us.

Roman’s arm was behind me, steadying me as we leaned out just enough to feel like we were flying. His laughter mingled with mine, and for a second—just a second—I forgot we were doing this for points, for show. It felt real. Easy.

He glanced over, and before I could process it, he pressed a quick kiss to my cheek.

Warm, solid, so natural it didn’t even feel like a choice.

My heart stuttered. I melted into him for half a breath before my brain caught up, reminding me this was dangerous territory.

I shook myself out of it, but the ghost of his lips lingered.

I knew I wasn’t fooling anyone—especially not myself.

When we hopped off near the park for the next leg of our adventure, Lucien’s app pinged again. Capture your union at the city’s most iconic threshold.

Roman grinned as he unlocked the car. “Golden Gate Bridge. Lucien’s really pulling out all the stops. Maybe there’ll be fireworks at the finish line.”

I kicked off my boots as soon as I was in the passenger seat, propping my bare feet on the dashboard.

The city flickered past the windows—neon signs, the soft glow of apartment windows, the sharp sparkle of the skyline in the distance.

Roman’s playlist filtered through the speakers—some indie band he’d introduced me to that sounded like summer nights and possibilities. My toes tapped along with the rhythm.

The bridge came into view, its red arches glowing in the night, the lights spanning like a string of stars. The second we stepped out of the car, the wind hit—cool and strong, whipping my hair into my face. I pushed it back, laughing as I tried to catch my balance on the uneven pavement.

“All right,” I said, pulling out my phone. “Let’s give Lucien his money shot.”

Roman raised a brow. “What’s the plan?”

I grinned, stepping in front of him and striking a cheesy pose, one hand on my hip, the other outstretched toward the bridge like I was presenting it on a game show. “Engagement shoot. Obviously.”

He didn’t miss a beat. “Oh, we’re doing this.”

Before I could react, he was beside me on one knee, one arm around my waist, the other extended dramatically like we were in the final scene of a romance movie.

I shrieked, laughing, clinging to his shoulder as my phone fumbled in my grip.

A group of tourists nearby started clapping, one snapping a photo like we were part of the city tour.

“You’re ridiculous,” I said.

“You’re having fun,” he said, eyes bright. “Admit it.”

I didn’t argue. Because I was. God help me, I was.

We snapped the selfie, hair wild, smiles too big to be fake, the bridge a perfect backdrop. It didn’t feel like a task or a game anymore. It felt like us.

The final clue pinged through as we climbed back into the car, leading us toward Golden Gate Park. Roman’s hand brushed mine as he shifted into gear, and neither of us moved away. The park was quiet this time of night, the air heavy with the smell of wet grass and eucalyptus.

And then I saw Eric. Because of course.

Bianca was glued to his side, all sleek ponytail and pristine athleisure, clutching her crystal water bottle like it had magical properties.

Eric’s eyes flicked up, and his mouth twitched into that half-smile that had once made my stomach flip but now made my skin crawl.

His gaze skipped over me, landing on Roman’s hand wrapped around mine, and that smile tightened, brittle at the edges.

“Maggie,” he said, smooth as ever. “Didn’t expect to run into you tonight.”

I kept my expression polite and neutral. “Eric. Bianca.”

Bianca gave us a glance, a single blink of disinterest, before going right back to scrolling on her phone, snapping her gum lazily. She didn’t even seem to register Roman’s presence.

Eric’s eyes, though, were sharp, taking us in like he was trying to figure out the angle. His gaze lingered a beat too long on Roman’s hand resting on my hip now, like it belonged there. And maybe it did.

He chuckled fondly, but I knew better. “Always admired how you follow your heart… no matter where it leads.” His eyes slowly dragged up Roman’s body, scrutinizing.

There it was. The subtle jab. Roman’s hand tensed, just enough that I felt it.

“And you always did have a flair for being condescending without breaking a sweat,” I said with a sweet smile.

Eric shrugged, pretending at harmlessness, but his eyes glinted. “No judgment. You look… happy. I guess that’s what matters.”

Roman shifted, his body turning slightly, and I could see the flicker of wolf beneath the surface. Calm. Controlled. Definitely not amused.

“That is what matters,” Roman said, voice easy, but there was steel under it. “She deserves to be happy.”

Eric opened his mouth, maybe to volley back another layered compliment that was really just an insult, but Roman moved.

Just a step, turning as if to gesture for us to head out, but his boot caught the uneven edge of the path—whether by accident or design, I didn’t know—and in the process, his shoulder clipped Eric’s.

Eric, who was too busy trying to look unbothered, stumbled. One foot slipped on the damp stone near the fountain’s edge, arms flailing, the perfect picture of surprise and indignation. And then—

Splash.

The sound was glorious. Echoing. Final. Bianca shrieked, jumping back as water sprayed her leggings. Her phone nearly slipped from her hand, and for the first time all night, she looked up, eyes wide with horror.