The Fake Out (Vancouver Storm, #2)

by Stephanie Archer

I wink at her; she rolls her eyes. I grin; she pretends to yawn.

What’s it like, I wonder, to be everything to someone?

I hate Rory Miller’s stupid fucking arrogant grin. I hate it so much that I think about it all the time.

she’d probably bite me, and I’d probably like it.

Hayden Owens is a golden retriever in human form.

“If you really were my girlfriend, Hartley,” he whispers, his breath sending electric currents over my skin, “there’s no limit to what I would spend on you, so if we want to sell this? Let me.”

Ward is in a roped-off section with a bunch of toddlers, teaching them to skate. They’re all faster than Hartley.

I lower my mouth to hers. She inhales sharply, and for the longest moment of my life, I worry she might push me off, but she melts against me, kissing me back, and in my chest, something locks into place.

I’m not wearing the lingerie he sent, no matter how much I want to.

I’m wearing the lingerie he sent, even though I said I wouldn’t.

“Don’t bully me, Hartley.” He nips my earlobe and my lips part. “It makes me hard.”

I don’t think I’ve ever seen a girl as pretty as Hazel Hartley.

even when we’re a hundred years old,” he whispers, “I’ll be flirting with you to get your attention.”

I suppress a smile because for a moment, it actually looks like Rory would prefer to sit on the floor beside my ankle, guarding it,

I love seeing Rory Miller lose his fucking mind over me.

That girl from a few months ago, who hated Rory Miller? She shakes her head and walks away because I’m way too far gone to help.

If my heart is a house, Rory now lives there.

I think maybe I’ve always loved her, because this feeling in my chest isn’t new. I just have a name for it now.

My sweet, terrified Hazel is handing me her fragile trust to hold in the palm of my hand. I’ll do anything to protect it.