‎The café hummed around them, but the space between Aria and Caleb felt suspended in something thicker than air.

‎His gaze didn’t leave hers.

‎“You’re playing with fire,” he said quietly.

‎“Maybe,” she replied. “But you said it yourself. Perception matters.”

‎He leaned back slightly, studying her as if trying to determine whether she was serious.

‎“You’ve been here three days.”

‎“I learn fast.”

‎“This isn’t a strategy meeting in a boardroom,” he said. “This is my life.”

‎“And it’s mine,” she shot back. “Six months. That’s all I have before the bank takes the inn.”

‎His jaw tightened.

‎“You think pretending to date me fixes that?”

‎“I think,” she said carefully, lowering her voice, “that if the town sees you investing in the inn… in me… they’ll stop waiting for me to fail.”

‎A muscle ticked in his jaw.

‎“And what do I get out of it?” he asked evenly.

‎Honest. Direct.

‎She appreciated that.

‎“You repair your reputation,” she said. “You show them you’re not afraid to start something again.”

‎“That’s not how this works.”

‎“Isn’t it?” she countered. “They think you can’t commit. They think I won’t stay. If we’re seen together consistently, publicly, it changes the narrative.”

‎He stared at her for a long moment.

‎“You’ve thought about this.”

‎“Since last night.”

‎“And it didn’t occur to you that this could get complicated?”

‎“It’s already complicated.”

‎A pause.

‎“Fake dating,” he repeated slowly, like testing the words for weakness. “You’re suggesting we pretend.”

‎“Yes.”

‎“For how long?”

‎“Until the permits are approved. Until the renovations are underway. Until people stop questioning whether I’m leaving.”

‎“And then?”

‎“Then we end it,” she said. “Mutually. Amicably.”

‎His eyes searched her face.

‎“You make it sound simple.”

‎“It can be.”

‎He let out a quiet breath, almost a laugh but not amused.

‎“You don’t know this town.”

‎“Then tell me what I’m missing.”

‎He leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice.

‎“Maple Hollow doesn’t do casual. It doesn’t do pretend. If we do this, they won’t see it as temporary.”

‎“That’s the point.”

‎“No,” he said firmly. “That’s the danger.”

‎Silence stretched.

‎Aria felt the weight of his hesitation but she also saw something else beneath it.

‎Fear.

‎Not of gossip.

‎Of vulnerability.

‎“You’re afraid,” she said softly.

‎His eyes sharpened.

‎“Don’t.”

‎“You’re afraid they’ll believe it.”

‎He stood abruptly, chair scraping against the floor.

‎“This is a mistake.”

‎She stood too.

‎“Is it?”

‎“Yes.”

‎“Because it won’t work?”

‎“No,” he said tightly. “Because it might.”

‎The words landed between them like a dropped stone.

‎The café noise swelled again around them.

‎Caleb ran a hand through his hair, frustration clear now.

‎“You think pretending to date me is just holding hands at the market?” he asked. “It’s dinners. Church on Sundays. Town festivals. Questions. Expectations.”

‎“I can handle questions.”

‎“It’s not the questions I’m worried about.”

‎She held his gaze.

‎“Then what are you worried about?”

‎His voice lowered.

‎“That you’ll leave.”

‎The honesty of it startled her.

‎“You don’t know that,” she said quietly.

‎“I’ve seen it before.”

‎The unspoken name hung in the air.

‎Lydia.

‎Aria softened slightly.

‎“This isn’t that.”

‎“You don’t know that either.”

‎Another pause.

‎She stepped closer not touching, just closing the distance.

‎“I’m not asking you to fall in love with me,” she said gently. “I’m asking you to stand beside me.”

‎His eyes flicked down briefly, then back to hers.

‎“And when the six months are up?”

‎“If I fail,” she said, forcing steadiness into her voice, “then none of this will matter anyway.”

‎“That’s not an answer.”

‎“It’s the only honest one I have.”

‎Silence.

‎The tension between them wasn’t romantic.

‎Not yet.

‎It was cautious. Electric. Uncertain.

‎“You’d have to stay at the house sometimes,” he said suddenly.

‎She blinked.

‎“What?”

‎“If we’re convincing,” he continued, practical now, “people will expect to see you there.”

‎Her pulse jumped.

‎“That’s… not necessary.”

‎“It is here.”

‎She hesitated.

‎“Separate rooms,” he added quickly. “I’m not suggesting anything inappropriate.”

‎“I didn’t think you were.”

‎“Good.”

‎Another pause.

‎“You really believe this could work?” he asked.

‎“Yes.”

‎“And if it backfires?”

‎“Then at least I’ll know I tried everything.”

‎He studied her face again.

‎Searching for doubt.

‎He didn’t find it.

‎“You’re reckless,” he muttered.

‎“Only when it matters.”

‎A long breath left him.

‎“This doesn’t leave this table,” he said finally. “No one knows it’s pretend.”

‎“Of course not.”

‎“We set boundaries.”

‎“Agreed.”

‎“No mixed signals.”

‎She nodded.

‎“No emotional expectations.”

‎That one lingered.

‎But she nodded again.

‎“Fine.”

‎He extended his hand.

‎Not warm this time.

‎Formal.

‎Businesslike.

‎“If we’re doing this,” he said quietly, “we do it right.”

‎Aria looked at his hand.

‎This was it.

‎The line between strategy and something far more dangerous.

‎She placed her hand in his.

‎“Deal,” she said.

‎His grip tightened slightly.

‎Not possessive.

‎Not intimate.

‎Just solid.

‎Outside, through the café window, two older women were already watching them.

‎Aria noticed.

‎And, without thinking

‎She stepped a fraction closer to Caleb.

‎His arm brushed hers.

‎He didn’t pull away.

‎The first move had already been made.

‎And Maple Hollow was watching.