3. Shane

3

SHANE

Nobody had ever told me that there were so many different types of baking chocolate.

I stood in the baking aisle at the market as “Holly Jolly Christmas” played over the speakers and the after-work crowd flooded the store. I’d been staring at the different types of chocolate for three minutes, looking back at my phone to the recipe. My mind was a swirl of nervous anticipation, knowing Rowen was coming over later tonight.

Double Chocolate Peanut Butter Cake.

It seemed simple enough, and I wanted to have something to offer Rowen when he came over. Gram had always baked something for new guests, and even though I’d never so much as baked a cookie, I thought I’d give the cake a try.

How hard could it be?

I checked the time. He was supposed to be over at my house in an hour, and I was still here at the store after a long day shift working at the inn. I was losing minutes.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I whispered under my breath, and an old lady pushing a cart down the aisle turned toward me.

“What are you looking for, kiddo?” the old lady said, peering at me from over her thick glasses.

“Oh,” I said. “Well, the recipe asks for baking chocolate, but there are four different kinds here. Unsweetened, bittersweet, milk…”

She looked down at my phone. “For a cake like that? Looks beautiful. Go for the bittersweet. You’ll be adding enough sugar that it’ll turn out delicious in the end.”

I let out a breath I hadn’t known I’d been holding. “Thank you so much,” I said, grabbing two packages of the chocolate. “And… for the sugar, should I get, uh, granulated, powdered, or confectioners?”

“Powdered for the icing, granulated for the cake itself,” she told me.

“You’re a lifesaver.”

She grinned at me. “Cooking for your sweetheart?”

“No, no,” I said. “Just for… a friend.”

A guy I barely know who’s coming over to be my fake boyfriend.

I grabbed the rest of the ingredients throughout the store in a rush and beelined to my car, heading home.

I flipped on the little switch outside that turned on my Christmas lights, loving the way the multicolored bulbs made the front of my house look adorable rather than sad.

“Okay,” I said under my breath as I unloaded all of the ingredients out onto my counter. I realized I didn’t have proper cake pans, but I had a couple of cheap pie pans that had been left here after some Thanksgiving gathering long ago. I followed the recipe for the chocolate cake layers and then realized that I’d forgotten to preheat the oven.

Rowen was supposed to arrive in twenty minutes.

And I hadn’t even gotten the oven on yet, let alone started the peanut butter frosting or the top layer of chocolate ganache.

My heart was pounding. I looked all around the house, realizing I hadn’t set anything else up yet, either. I zipped around, lighting some candles, turning on the rest of the holiday decor, and putting on some music in the background.

A nervous flutter had kicked up in my chest.

I used to have people over all the time, but in recent years, it had really just been my sister.

I hadn’t done this in a while. Certainly not with a very attractive guy who I was going to be faking a relationship with. I wanted…

I wanted him to like me, if I was being honest.

I hopped in the shower, rinsed off, and put on a nice sweater and simple jeans. My cheeks were a little red in the way I hated, because I thought it made me look like a little boy who’d just come inside from playing out in the cold.

“Shit. The cakes,” I said out loud as I headed back out to the kitchen, finally sliding them into the hot oven.

I got started on the peanut butter icing, rushing as I poured powdered sugar, peanut butter, and regular butter into a bowl. I grabbed my hand mixer and turned it on high, and a huge cloud of powdered sugar shot up into the air, coating the front of my sweater in a plume of fine white.

And then I heard a knock at the door.

The back of my neck felt hot as I went to answer the door.

This was not how I’d wanted it to be when Rowen got here.

I swung open the door to see Rowen under the low glow of the Christmas lights, with a bottle of whiskey in one hand and a big bouquet of fresh flowers in the other. He had his camera slung around one shoulder.

My heart landed somewhere up near my throat.

“You brought flowers?” I said.

“All for you, boyfriend,” he said, smiling as he leaned forward, giving the bouquet a sniff. “Some dahlias, some amaranth flowers, and a few red roses.”

I stepped aside so he could come in. I felt heat creeping up to my cheeks even more now.

Rowen looked damn good.

Classy and sexy, like some sort of big city model. He was wearing a leather jacket that he shrugged off as he came inside, revealing a fitted, creamy-white cashmere sweater underneath.

He looked like a million bucks.

A million bucks in my shoddy old house. Quite the contrast.

I took the flowers and placed them on the little dining room table, marveling at their beauty. “I don’t think I’ve ever gotten flowers before. They’re so beautiful.”

“You’ve got a little something on your shirt,” he told me.

“Shit. I forgot,” I said, looking down at the sugar. “Let me go change. Make yourself at home.”

I rushed off to swap to a different long-sleeve shirt. When I came back to the kitchen I found Rowen with his head poking into a cabinet, with about six other cabinets thrown open around the kitchen.

“I’m starting to think you have a personal war against cups,” Rowen said. “You have about twenty different bowls, enough plates to feed an army, and like, ten water bottles, but…”

I reached over to another cabinet to open it, and showed him the inside. “I have two cups.”

He gave me a look like I was insane. “You have only two cups, and one of them has Lucy from I Love Lucy on it and the other is a big, empty jar?”

I bit back a smile. “I know I said to make yourself at home, but now I’m kind of regretting that.”

“ Two cups? ” he repeated.

“Listen,” I told him, holding up my hands in defense. “The bowls I got as a gift from my mom. The plates were passed down from my Grandma when she died. The water bottles I got on my own, because I need them for the gym.”

“And you just haven’t gotten around to cups yet?”

“Exactly,” I said. “I tried to tell you, this house is a work in progress.”

… And my whole life is a work in progress, but that’s a different story.

“You are so fucking cute,” Rowen said, shaking his head as he grabbed my two mismatched glasses.

A new bloom of heat moved through me.

He said it so casually, like it was nothing to him to call me cute.

“Anyway. Whiskey?” he asked.

“Yes. Please,” I said, running my hands through my hair. “Today’s been a little stressful.”

“Let me guess. You were looking at different options for cups online and the sheer stress of having more than two sent you over the edge?”

I snorted. “Caught me. Even the idea of having matching cups puts me in a tailspin, Rowen.”

“What was so stressful about your day, really?” he asked.

“Well, the inn was swamped all day. Big group of newly retired people came to stay, and they each had their own specific requirements for the rooms. Stella Murray can’t stand an east-facing window, Reggie Dunn can’t deal with scented soap…”

Rowen gave me a look from under his dark rows of lashes. As he poured our glasses of whiskey, I was struck again that there was a very, very hot guy in my house.

He’s not attracted to you, I reminded myself. Down, boy .

“I had a side gig at the front desk of a hotel in the city for about two weeks, when I first left acting school,” Rowen said. “It was one of the most stressful things I’ve done. I don’t envy your job.”

“Sometimes it’s fun,” I said. “But it is always like walking on a tightrope, trying to keep customers happy.”

“I’m sure they love you. Do the old ladies ever pinch your cheeks?”

“One did last week, actually. She said I looked like a ‘young Jude Law,’ and I couldn’t help but laugh.”

Rowen lifted an eyebrow. “She has a point, though.”

“That is a nice compliment,” I said, “but I’m definitely more average than that.”

Ever since I’d started working out a lot a few years ago, I’d gotten more and more compliments, and I never knew what to do with them. I’d been somewhat athletic in high school, but I sure as hell hadn’t been all that fit.

I worked out now to clear my mind. When other people saw me as a “super fit” person, I always had a moment of confusion, forgetting that it was the type of person I’d slowly become.

Rowen handed me my glass. “Cheers, Shane. You want to get started?”

Truthfully, I wanted to spend about three hours asking him about his life and what it had been like back in New York, but it didn’t seem like Rowen was very eager to talk about himself.

I nodded, pulling in a deep breath. “Let’s do it.”

He clapped his hands together. “So, just a five-minute video?”

“They also said we could include a few photos of us around the house, showcasing specific areas that need renovation most,” I said. “We could start with the pictures.”

Rowen gave me a nod. “Lead the way. I can set up the camera.”

I took another sip of whiskey before showing him around the house. The first area I knew needed renovations was the fireplace in the living room.

“The brick around this is literally crumbling away,” I said, poking at a piece and watching it fall to the floor. “I definitely don’t feel safe lighting a fire in there.”

“That’s not ideal,” Rowen said, placing his camera on top of a shelf across the way after setting up the focus. “We should stand next to it for the pictures. Let’s do a test shot.”

He pushed some buttons and a timer started beeping on his camera. He came over to my side and in an instant, his arm was around my waist.

I had to try hard not to gasp. His body was warm against mine, and the air around me was suddenly filled with his fresh scent, something warmly spiced and gentle. I awkwardly put my arm around his shoulders, trying to look like a couple, but not knowing how much touching would be too much.

Rowen didn’t seem to have any fears in that department. He squeezed around me, holding me close. He leaned his head down onto my shoulder as the camera’s shutter clicked, taking the photo.

In another moment he was off, heading over to the camera to show me the test shot.

“I think we look like a couple,” he said.

“We really do.”

It was strange to see myself from an objective point of view. The Christmas garlands above the fireplace almost made it look cute, even though it was dilapidated.

And I almost looked like somebody in love, rather than someone faking it.

Soon we made our way around the house to a few different places, taking more shots. About half an hour later, the scent of chocolate filled the house.

“It smells fucking amazing in here,” Rowen said. “Why does it smell amazing?”

“The cakes are probably about done,” I said.

Back in the kitchen, I pulled them out of the oven.

“You bake ?” Rowen said.

“Um, no,” I said. “Not really. Not ever, actually. To be honest, I’m praying that these aren’t raw in the middle.”

“I have faith they won’t be.”

As I mixed up the rest of the frosting, I really felt like a bull in a china shop all over again, like I had no natural talent in the kitchen at all. Rowen took a seat on one of the dining room chairs that looked over past the kitchen island.

“My grandma always made baking and cooking look so easy,” I said, turning the first cake over onto a plate. When I pulled the pan up, half of the cake had stayed stuck to the pan, and the other half flopped out onto the plate. “Fuck.”

“Any chance you lined those pans with parchment paper beforehand?”

I shook my head. “Zero percent chance.”

“Cooking spray?” Rowen asked.

“I… spread a little bit of butter onto them,” I said. “I think that’s what the recipe said.”

He nodded. “That’s better than nothing. Here.”

He came over, reaching for the pan.

“Wait. Here. Take the hot pads,” I said. “It’s still scorching hot.”

“Well, there’s your problem,” Rowen said. “You’ve got to wait until they cool down.”

“Fuck,” I repeated.

He reached out to rub the small of my back. “It’s no biggie. Once it cools, we can easily fix it up. This piece will come out and fit against the other one like a puzzle piece.”

His hand on my back felt good.

He was still touching me like that, even when we weren’t taking pictures or filming anything yet?

I cleared my throat. “We can do the video, then, I guess. While we wait.”

I tried hard to hide how flustered I was.

This gorgeous man in my kitchen, who was probably used to the fanciest food in New York.

For all I knew, his life back in the city might have been leagues beyond anything Bestens, Tennessee could offer. Other than auditions, he probably didn’t have a care in the world back there, living it up and hanging out with wealthy socialites.

Rowen was the kind of guy who could have anyone he wanted. And he was taking a shot on me, even being nice enough to bring over fresh flowers, for fuck’s sake.

I wanted to lead with love.

Even if it was… fake love.

Just chill, and pretend to be his boyfriend for the video , I reminded myself. And please, God, stop staring at his lips .