Page 33 of The Hookup Situation (Billionaire Situation #5)

“When you know, you know,” Sharon says, looking at her husband. “I knew your father was it for me after our second date.”

“First date,” Richard corrects. “You just didn’t admit it until the second.”

They share a look that speaks of decades of love, and it makes me grin.

Richard pulls Sharon with him. “We should let you two get on with your day. Sorry for barging in. ”

“Though not really sorry,” Sharon adds with a wink. “I had to meet the man who has my daughter glowing like this.”

“I’m glad you did,” I say.

After they leave, Julie drops her head on the counter. “I can’t believe she brought up Buddy Madison.”

“Your first love?” I pull her in front of me.

“High school boyfriend. Ancient history.” She looks up at me. “And they definitely knew we were having shower sex.”

“Your parents are great, Jules.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. They love you. They want you to be happy.” I brush hair from her face. “Your mom’s right though.”

“About what?”

“You are sparkling.”

She hides her face in my chest. “Stop.”

“Never.”

My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I pull it out.

Patterson

Coffee shop is AMAZING. Your girl’s friend with the crystals is hot. Also, I may have told everyone we’re brothers. Roll with it.

I show Julie the text. She laughs.

“Blaire will destroy him.”

“Probably. But I have a feeling Patterson isn’t quite her type,” I say, studying her.

“You’re right. Blaire goes for the artsy, intelligent, nerdy boys. Patterson’s about as subtle as a freight train. Should we go rescue her?” she asks.

“Let him figure it out. Besides, it’s your day off. When’s the last time you took one?”

She thinks about it. “Yesterday.”

“Exactly. Before that, you have no idea.” I pull her closer. “Spend the day with me. ”

“You say it like I need convincing.”

“Do you?”

She shakes her head, then pushes up on her toes, kissing me. “You’re sweeter than you let people see.”

“Don’t tell anyone. I have a reputation.”

“Your secret’s safe with me.”

“What do people do here when they’re not working?” I ask.

Her eyes light up. “The farmers market is today. It’s the last big one before October.”

“Perfect. Let’s go.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Lead the way. I want to go everywhere with you.”

She blushes, and I love that I can make that happen.

“Let me grab my bags,” she says, sliding a few recycled totes over her arm, then we leave.

We walk hand in hand through town toward the square where white tents are set up in rows. The morning air is cool, and I can smell fresh bread, apples, and a hint of cinnamon.

“This is one of my favorite things about fall,” Julie says, swinging our joined hands. “Local vendors, fresh produce, Melanie’s apple cider doughnuts …”

“Apple cider doughnuts?”

“Life-changing.” She pulls me toward a tent where an older woman is frying doughnuts. They smell incredible.

“Julie! And the famous Nick Banks!” Melanie beams at us. “I heard all about you.”

“Of course you did.” Julie laughs. “A dozen, please.”

“A dozen?” I ask.

“Trust me. We’ll want them later,” she whispers and tries to pay, but I insist.

“Absolutely not,” I tell her, handing my card to Melanie before tipping her big.

“Uh,” she says, looking down at it, “I think you added too many zeros. ”

“Oh? Let me see.” I look at the slip and see a thousand-dollar tip. “Nope, that’s right.”

As Melanie bags our doughnuts, she winks at me, adding extra ones. “Thank you so much. Now, you’d better take care of her. She’s special.”

“I know,” I say, squeezing Julie’s hand.

We wander through the market, Julie introducing me to vendors she’s known her whole life. She buys honey from the beekeepers, Granny Smith apples from Coleman’s stand, and fresh herbs from the community garden. I carry her bags, watching her light up as she chats with everyone.

“Nick Banks?” A man with a thick Southern drawl approaches. “Holy shit, it really is you.”

“Hi,” I say, taking his hand.

“Huge fan,” he says, shaking.

Julie watches the interaction.

“Mind if I get a picture? No one will believe that I ran into you.”

“Of course,” I tell him.

Julie takes the phone, snapping a few shots.

After we’re alone, she looks at me thoughtfully. “Wow, you must really be a big deal.”

“Shh,” I say. “I’m not, trust me.”

“You’re just being humble. I mean, I knew you played hockey, but these people are fangirling over you. Even my dad did.”

Laughter releases from me. “Didn’t realize who your boyfriend was?”

I wrap my arm around her, and she holds me tight.

“I guess not.”

We move between a vegetable stand and the craft booth to check out another section.

“Nicolas?” Another voice interrupts. “Nick Banks?”

We turn to find a woman with a professional camera around her neck. Not a local. Her clothes are too polished, her smile too calculated .

“I’m Amy from Sports Daily . What brings you to Cozy Creek?”

My body tenses. Julie must feel it because she steps closer.

“I’m not here for interviews,” I say.

Amy’s eyes slide to Julie, taking in our joined hands, the market bags, the domestic scene. “I don’t think we’ve met.”

“I don’t think we need to,” Julie says, but doesn’t offer more.

“We’re actually in a hurry,” I say, steering Julie away. “Have a good day.”

“Just one picture?” Amy calls after us.

I don’t respond, guiding Julie through the crowd toward the edge of the market.

“Who was that?” Julie asks once we’re clear.

“Trouble.” I scan the area, looking for other photographers. When there is one, there are usually others. “She’s a sports journalist, but she focuses more on gossip than games.”

“Oh.” Julie’s quiet for a moment. “Is she going to write about us?”

“Probably.”

“About our fake relationship?” she asks, but there’s something in her voice.

Julie spots another photographer near the honey stand.

“Maybe,” I say, realizing we’re surrounded. “Come on. We need to get out of here.”

She grabs my hand, squeezing my fingers. “Want to go home and eat apple cider doughnuts in bed, naked?”

“That’s the best suggestion you’ve had all day,” I say with a laugh, loving how she so casually pulls me away from my mini spiral.

“Better than shower sex?” she asks.

“Different category, but equally appealing.”

I was afraid of the outside world bursting our perfect bubble. I just wanted more time with her before reality came crashing in.

As we walk back to her place, I keep watch for photographers, knowing I need to text Asher as soon as we’re out of the public eye .

Julie hums beside me, swinging her market bags, occasionally feeding me bites of a warm doughnut. She acts as if she doesn’t care, but I know better.

Regardless, I soak in the morning sun, enjoy the peacefulness of the town, and try to forget people from my world are here, watching us.

“Nick?” Julie says as we reach her door.

“Yeah?”

“Whatever happens with the media stuff … I’m glad it’s me.”

“Me too.”

She fumbles with her keys, and that’s when I realize she’s nervous.

“Let me help,” I say, taking them, unlocking the door while shielding her.

Once inside, Julie sets down the market bags on the counter and turns to me.

“What parts are real, and what parts are fake?”

“When we’re alone. All real.” I move closer to her. “The way I look at you. Real. How I feel when I wake up next to you. Real. The panic I experienced when I saw those photographers getting near you. So damn real.” I take her hands.

“So, you’re just really bad at fake dating?”

“The worst,” I agree, pulling her closer. “But it will work out.”

“Even with photographers following us?”

“Especially then.” I kiss her forehead.

My phone vibrates, and I pull it from my pocket.

Patterson

Blaire just read my palm and told me I’m going to see my soulmate in November. Then she kicked me out of the shop. I’m so confused.

I show Julie the text. She laughs, and some of the tension releases from her shoulders.

“This doesn’t surprise me,” she admits .

I tuck loose strands of hair behind her ears. “Now, about those doughnuts in bed …”

She smiles, the tension immediately disappearing. “Race you upstairs.”

“What do I get if I win?”

“Me,” she says, snatching the bag of goodies and taking off running.

I catch her halfway up, spinning her around, kissing her against the wall. The market bags drop, and an apple rolls down the stairs, but neither of us cares.

“I already won,” I tell her.

“We both have,” she whispers.

And for now, we have apple cider doughnuts and each other.

It’s more than enough.