Page 49 of Game Plan

My cheeks flush as I smile at him. “I’ll do it. I’ll be your fake fiancée.”

I see the relief sweep over him like a tidal wave. His shoulders relax, his face softens, and the brightness that I love in his eyes comes alive.

He winks at me. “You won’t regret it.”

The door opens, and he disappears into the sunshine. I blow out a breath.

I hope not. I really hope not.

CHAPTER

FIFTEEN

Finn

The sky is bursting with color. Oranges, purples, and pinks hover over the buildings and trees. Poppy will love this.

I stop at the curb and put the vehicle in park, shutting off the engine. She said yes. And because of that, I had my first taste of her lips in over two long weeks.

My new fiancée. Fake or not, I love the sound of that.

Holy fuck.

Not only am I excited to see her again, but my dick has definitely woken up at what could happen next.

I gaze at her townhome, halfway scared to go to the door. I’ve glanced at my phone a hundred times since leaving her earlier this afternoon, wondering if I’ll pick it up to see a text from her calling this off. Or, even worse, agreeing to the engagement but backing out of giving us a chance.

But that didn’t happen.

The only texts I got from her were three pictures of outfits, asking me to choose one for tonight.

I exhale, the stream shakier than I’d like to admit, and grab the vase of flowers I picked up from a florist near my house, then head to Poppy’s front door.

My heart pounds harder the closer I get. I’ve done this so many times, and it’s never felt like this. Yes, this is pretend between us, but it’s not only that. It’s a chance. An opportunity. My one shot to show the woman of my dreams that I might be the man of hers, too.

I straighten my shirt and knock on the door.

“Hey,” she says, the words getting to me before I see her smiling face.

My heart skips a beat as she steps into the light.

Her dark hair is soft around her shoulders, full and blown out, as she likes to say. Her lashes are thick, her lips pouty, and she’s wrapped in a pale pink dress with a deep V-neckline that showcases her insane body.

“My God,” I say, whistling through my teeth.

She giggles. “Do you like it?”

“Do I like it?” I laugh. “What’s not to like? You’re a fucking knockout, Poppy Quinn.”

“I didn’t want you showing up thinking you made a mistake and should’ve asked someone else to be your fake fiancée.” She slides her hand down the door, swinging her hips as she grows closer to me. “The more I think about it, the more I realize that it’s a role I’m uniquely qualified to handle.”

I swallow. “Is that so?”

“Yup. And I’ll prove it to you later.” She smirks. “You’re devastatingly handsome tonight, but I’m going to prefer those clothes on my floor.”

Her eyes twinkle, and I know what she’s trying to do—sidetrack me into scooping her up and carrying her inside where we’ll forget all about our date.

But that’s not going to happen. As much as I’d love to lose myself in her, this isn’t about me. This is about her.