The Billionaire's (Not So) Fake Engagement - Kimberly Krey Page 0,16

the moment of contemplation. Why was he agreeing to do it? “Well, I will be in town for a while, that’s the truth. And, um…I’ve got a couple of fishing poles at my place in hopes to catch a few trout. This way, I don’t have to do the dirty work. I never did like cutting through that scaly fish skin.” Which is why, the one time he did catch something on that Alaskan excursion, he’d paid someone to do that part for him.

A smile pulled at her lips. A broad and beautiful one. Forget the tiny

hint of a grin he’d earned before. This was magnificent. Full, natural lips framing a set of flawless teeth, and a dimple that had him wanting to brush the back of his hand over her rounded cheek.

Only trouble was, he wasn’t sure what he’d done to earn it. “What’s so funny?”

“You fish?”

On guided fishing excursions along the Pacific, yes, but she didn’t need to know that. “I have before. Twice.” He lifted a finger. “Three times, actually.”

“Well,” she said with the shake of her head. “Thank you, then. For agreeing to come tomorrow. As for the autumn festival, I’ll think of a reason you can’t be there. Maybe an emergency can come up or something.”

“Okay,” he said with a nod. But they still had a few things to work out. “We need to get you home, get your truck home, and, of course, you have to give me the full story on this fiancé of yours.”

He watched the contemplation in her hazel eyes as his pulse sped with anticipation. Say there isn’t really a fiancé, Justine, please.

But she only nodded instead. “Right.”

Dang.

“How about this,” he posed as an idea came to mind. “I take you to the steakhouse place you were talking about—that makes me a little less of a liar—and you tell me all about it there. My treat,” he added.

This made her smile again. “You’re definitely not from around here. Wilfred wasn’t kidding about the reservations. They’re booked for weeks out.”

Now it was Burke’s turn to smile. When money was plenty, the reservations were too. “You let me take care of that part. What do you say?”

Chapter 6

Yes. That’s what she’d said.

Justine replayed that conversation as Burke pulled onto her quiet drive. He’d asked her to the Steakhouse and she’d said yes.

“No gate on your property?” Burke asked as he tipped his head, eyes set on her house. A modest rambler that looked more square than rectangular from the front.

“No.” She gulped, reached for the door handle, and paused as a recollection came to mind. “Am I the one who hit you in the shin?” she asked. “Because if I am, I didn’t realize it. I was—”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said.

“Distracted,” she finished.

With a pair of hypnotizing blue eyes, Burke held her gaze, a certain energy surging in the small space between them. Justine couldn’t figure him out. In a way, this stranger had come to her rescue twice that day. First with the cat in her distraught moment and then with Gramps.

“So,” she said. “I’ll go get ready…”

“Sounds good. My cabin’s not more than fifteen minutes away. I’ll do the same and then meet you back here.”

Justine bit her lip and gave him a nod. “Okay.”

“Okay.”

She turned away from him then, cracked open the car door, and climbed out, groceries in one fist, her purse strap in the other. She couldn’t get past the feel of his gaze on her as she climbed up the shallow porch steps.

She was quick to twist the brass knob of her pale blue door—a contrast to the white siding on her home—and hurry inside. Only once the door was closed did she hear Burke’s engine rev, indicating he was backing out of the drive at last. She flicked the switch by her side and sighed as warm, yellowed lamplight filled the space.

Burke had waited until she got inside.

That was sweet.

It wasn’t exactly the same as getting out of the car, opening her door, and carrying her stuff inside, but it was a caring gesture just the same. And gentlemanly. Stop swooning, Justine. It wasn’t as if he’d asked her out on a date.

Or was it? The truth was, Justine had no idea how to interpret what had just taken place. But Burke…he was something else. She swerved her way through the living room, crowded with the refurbished furniture she planned to sell at the festival, and hurried down the hall. Once at her bedroom,

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