Page 11 of The Hookup Situation (Billionaire Situation #5)

My expression doesn’t change, but my heart rate increases. “For this to work, I think we need rules.”

“Rules are made to be broken.” She drinks more.

“That’s usually my line,” I tell her.

The wine continues to disappear, along with Julie’s filter. “This could get out of hand. You’re Nick Banks, and I’m …”

“Gorgeous,” I say without hesitation. “Everyone will believe it because I’m Nick Banks, and I shuffle through women?—”

“You don’t have to finish that sentence,” she interrupts. “Your reputation doesn’t bother me.” She offers me the bottle as she hiccups.

“Okay, but don’t believe what you read on the internet. The character they’ve created of me is so far from the truth that it’s comical.”

We finish the bottle of wine. Julie leans her head back on the cushion and watches me.

“If we’re doing this, you’re right about needing to make rules.” She slides a notebook and a pink pen from her coffee table and flips it open to a blank page.

“You’re actually writing them down?”

“Documentation is important.” She clicks the pen a few times, then taps it against her lips. “Rule number one: Friendship comes first. I don’t want to ruin what we have. ”

I nod. “That’s essential and probably the most important rule of all. Um, number two: Total honesty about what’s working and what’s not. If I do something that gives you the ick, tell me. And vice versa.”

“Brutal honesty,” she says, writing it down.

“Rule three: We are both aware it’s fake,” she says.

“Yep, can totally do that,” I add.

She writes it down, then pauses. “What about PDA and all that?”

The air shifts as I think about capturing her lips again.

“That should probably happen only when it’s necessary,” I offer. “Hand-holding, casual touches. Nothing that crosses lines.”

“Should we define those lines?” She’s not looking at me now, very focused on the notebook. “If we’re going to make this believable, there might be moments when we need to …”

“Kiss?”

“Yeah.” The word comes out breathy. “But only when it’s absolutely necessary. An example is if Craig shows up or if someone questions us. Or if eyes are on us.”

“That’s fair. Performance kisses only.” I clear my throat. “What about a safe word? In case either of us gets uncomfortable and we need to reel it back or walk away?”

“Smart.” She thinks for a moment. “What about pumpkin spice ?”

I stare at her. “Really? That’s your safe word?”

“It’s seasonal and easy to throw into conversation without it being obvious.” She writes it down. “Oh, and our end date is November first. That’s when you’re planning to leave?”

“That’s right.”

“Okay. And …” She hesitates, pen hovering over the page. “What happens if one of us develops actual feelings?”

The question lands between us like a grenade with the pin pulled. We both know the chemistry is already there, crackling under the surface of this friendship we’re trying to build.

“We won’t,” I say finally. “Rule number one comes into play. I’m bad at love, Jules. ”

“Right. Of course. Oh, we should do another rule of no jealousy. If either of us wants to talk to someone else?—”

I look at her like she’s lost her damn mind. “During our fake relationship?”

“After. Or … I don’t know. We should be prepared if the situation presents itself, right?”

Something hot flares in my chest at the thought of her with someone else.

“For this to work, we should probably be exclusively fake dating,” I tell her. “The last thing we need is a scandal.”

She gives me a look that says she heard the edge in my voice. “That’s fair. We have to keep it believable so Craig will leave me alone—at least until November.”

I lean back, studying her. “What about dates? How often do we need to be seen together?”

“Two or three times a week. Coffee shop appearances, maybe dinner at Bookers, where locals can see us. All the fall activities.” She clicks the pen a few more times.

“We should probably establish our backstory, too, because we’ll be asked a lot when the town catches wind.

When we got together, how long have we been hiding it, you know, that sort of thing. ”

“The truth is always the best answer to that,” I suggest. “It’s a new development. We’ve been talking to one another for about a year and just decided, why not?”

“That’s actually perfect.” She sets down the pen, looking at our list. “I think we’ve covered everything. Clear rules, clear boundaries, clear end date.”

“Very professional.”

She’s smiling, some of the tension easing. “This is crazy, right? We’re actually doing this?”

“Apparently, we are.”

The notebook full of rules sits between us, but somehow, it feels more like a challenge than a safety net .

This is the start of something dangerous, disguised as something safe.

I already know I’m in trouble, and I should leave before I do something silly, like kiss her.

“We should figure out our couple style. Today was a bit chaotic.”

“Chaotic is generous.” She laughs, not a trace of embarrassment now. “Next time, we should aim for less desperation, more casual. But you’re right. What’s our vibe? Are we touchy-feely? Reserved but intimate? Do we use pet names?”

“No pet names. We want believable, not nauseating,” I tell her.

“Agreed. So, about the casual-kissing thing. Maybe we should practice that,” she says, blinking up at me.

There’s something tempting about the offer, but the anticipation is more gratifying.

“Nah,” I say, standing, knowing that’s my cue to go. “Where’s the fun in that? I say we wing it. Live dangerously .”

She looks genuinely surprised. “Mr. Corporate Strategy wants to improvise?”

“Hey, I’m trying to be more spontaneous. When we kiss, it will just be a peck. We can handle it.” I stretch and move toward the door. “Besides, half the fun is the unpredictability of it all.”

“That’s a good point.” She walks me to the door. “I’m looking forward to this.”

“Want to have dinner tomorrow night at Bookers?” I ask.

“I’d love to,” she says.

“Night, Little Red.”

“Night, boyfriend.”

As I walk away, I feel lighter than I have in months.

My phone buzzes before I’m even at the end of her sidewalk.

Julie

Forgot to ask … are you a hand-holder or arm-around-the-shoulder type of boyfriend?

I grin, typing back.

Nick

Depends. Are you a snuggle-into-my-side or maintain-your-independence type of girlfriend? I’m following your lead.

Julie

Hmm. Guess we’ll both find out tomorrow.