Page 86 of Fake it ’Til Fall

That’s the problem with agreeing to fake date a woman who talks too much.

She gets into your head and starts narrating seasonal produce.

My phone rings before I can start making coffee.

Mark.

Puck lowers his head onto his paws like even he understands this will be unpleasant.

Smart dog.

I answer. “No.”

“Good morning to you too, sweetheart,” Mark says. “Do you know what you need?”

“No.”

“Obviously, you don’t. That’s why you’re angry with the world.”

“Mark.”

I say his name as a warning.

Not that warnings have ever stopped Mark from walking directly into traffic with a marketing plan.

“Too soon?”

“What do you need?”

“I’m calling about your new girlfriend,” he says. “Great news finding her. Now we have to⁠—”

“I’m not discussing her like she’s a strategy.”

“She is a strategy.”

“She’s a person.”

“She’s both, if we’re lucky.”

I close my eyes.

“Careful,” I say.

Mark is quiet for one blessed second.

Then he sighs. “Fine. Poor wording. But you understand what this does for you, right?”

“No.” I walk to the counter and turn on the coffee maker because if I have to listen to this, I need caffeine and maybe a witness. “I told you I have someone to cover that. We’ll be there the first week of November. People will believe we’re together. You need to back off.”

“Yes, but you mentioned she’s local.”

I grunt.

Mistake.

The second the sound leaves me, I regret every decision that has ever led me to giving Mark information before coffee.

“Listen,” he says, already pleased with himself. “Daisy Thorn is local, respected, connected to the vineyard, tied to the event, and already known to Winterberry Cove. If she’s with you, it tells people something.”