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His grin turned wicked. "I love stupid, stupid things are my favorite."

The flirting was back, and it gave me an idea.

A terrible idea.

An absolutely spectacular, catastrophically terrible idea.

Damon would be the perfect candidate. The man was walking, talking proof that God occasionally showed off. He had the kind of face women wrote songs about, the kind of body that inspired irresponsible actions, and a smile that could probably get him acquitted of most misdemeanors.

But most importantly, he was charming, available, and, best of all, emotionally allergic to commitment.

He'd never mistake four days of pretend romance for something real. And neither would I. Probably.

Plus, every time I saw him, my stomach turned into a trampoline park. Which was irrelevant. Completely irrelevant. I needed a fake boyfriend, not a real orgasm.

The problem was that this wasn’t just his place of work. He lived here, it was his family’s ranch. His small town. I couldn't drag him into my web of deceit just because he looked good in jeans.

"What?" His eyes narrowed. “Why are you looking at me funny?”

"I always look at you funny."

"No. Usually you look at me like you're deciding where to hide my body."

"Still an option," I reminded both myself and him.

"Right now, though?" He leaned closer, his mouth curling into that wicked smile. "You're looking at me like a cartoon wolf eyeing a steak."

If only he knew how accurate that was.

"Or like I'm the Da Vinci Code and you just cracked it,” he continued. “Or like⁠—"

“Okay, okay. I get the point. I just had a crazy idea, but…”

“But what? I love crazy ideas.”

I tilted my head. “So we’ve now established you love crazy, stupid things.”

“Just call me Ryan Gosling.”

It took me a second to get his reference, then I couldn’t stop myself from laughing. "Right, Crazy, Stupid, Love."

He spread his arms. "Finally. A woman who appreciates my cinematic range."

"That's actually one of my favorite movies."

"Then we already have something in common, I mean besides the obvious sexual tension."

I rolled my eyes. "You're impossible."

He looked delighted. "It’s part of my charm."

My phone buzzed again. I glanced down and found two messages. One from my Auntie Bev, asking why she was the last to know I was in a new relationship. And one from my cousin Joanie, saying she’d just heard the news and was asking for the lowdown on my new man.

This was getting way out of hand.

I lifted my phone up. “I have to go before my lie ends up on the front page of the paper.”

“Lie? I’m intrigued.”