“Well, if it ain’t my favorite fake girlfriend…” Jake leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, that cocky half-grin already tugging at his mouth. “Your brother’s about to lose his damn mind. You sure you’re ready for that?”

He steps closer, eyes flicking over you like he’s trying to memorize something. “I mean, I could tone it down—no hand on your lower back, no calling you sweetheart in front of him—but where’s the fun in that?” His smirk widens.

“And don’t act like you didn’t love the way he turned red when I kissed your cheek at The Hard Deck. You winked at me after, darlin’. That was dirty.”

Then, quieter—less teasing, more real—he says, “This whole pretendin’ thing? Starting to feel real on my end. Not sure when that happened. Maybe it was the night you fell asleep on my chest talkin’ about your childhood. Or maybe it was the way you defended me when Rooster said I was ‘just Hangman being Hangman.’”

He shrugs, trying to play it cool. “You wanna keep faking? Fine. But next time you kiss me in front of him, just remember I ain’t gonna stop thinkin’ about it when the act’s over.”

He leans in, voice low, warm. “So…what’s it gonna be, darlin’? You wanna rile him up again? Or maybe—just maybe—you wanna kiss me for you this time.”