The Front Runner: A Small Town Fake Dating Romance (Gold Rush Ranch Book 3)

Stefan oozes confidence in the kitchen, something I didn’t expect to find so attractive. I watch him chop and stir and move around the industrial-style space with such ease that I almost wonder if he was a chef in a past life. The wine is delicious, just like he promised. It tastes expensive, but I also drink wine straight out of the bottle on girls’ nights, so it’s possible I’m not the best gauge for fancy.

He seems quieter, less jovial, since that conversation about his sister and the sexist pig of a principal. He’s lost himself in cooking, and after my second glass of wine, I give up on trying not to check him out. Never mind porn—he looks more like my unfulfilled professor fantasies. The black rims of his glasses contrast perfectly against the bronze glow of his hair. The turtleneck makes him look uptight and proper, but I know better, and it just adds to his allure.

I shouldn’t be looking, but I’m defiant. It’s a character flaw. When someone tells me not to do something, it makes me want to do it more. I’m Eve picking the apple just to see what happens. Want me to settle down and have babies? I think I’ll throw myself into my education and my job. Want me to hate Stefan Dalca? I think I’ll start fantasizing about him instead.

It’s not healthy. And I still have two dates to go.

He’s standing at the stove right now, stirring something that smells unbelievable. His body sways gently with the motion of the whisk, and his ass fills out the dark jeans he’s wearing in a way that has me gawking while quietly sipping my wine.

“Gross,” Nadia huffs as she slides onto the stool beside me.

“What?” I say, pretending something interesting above the cabinets has caught my eye rather than her brother’s ass.

But she’s not buying it. She quirks a brow and gives me an unimpressed look. Yup, nothing short with this one.

“Men suck,” she says, and I see Stefan stiffen out of the corner of my eye. “Be careful.”

I lean forward and stare at my glass, watching the red liquid slosh against the sides as I swivel it on the white marble countertop. “Some do. They aren’t all bad. Principal Cooper sounds like a real piece of shit though.”

She snorts. “On that, we can agree.” A small smile touches her pink lips. “Total pig.”

“Have you considered finishing what you need to finish online? That’s easily done now. I did that in university with a couple of classes.”

“Really?” Her voice sounds hopeful as she fiddles with her fingers, elbows propped on the edge of the counter.

“Definitely. Grab your laptop. Let’s look it up while he finishes cooking.”

She bounds out of the kitchen almost instantly with a hopeful smile on her face, blonde waves bouncing as she goes. When Stefan turns around, his eyes find mine, but I can’t tell what he’s thinking. Can’t tell if I’ve overstepped. He leans back on the opposite countertop, palms against the edge of the marble, and stares at me like he’s never seen me before this moment.

“What?” I ask, struggling to catch my breath.

His green eyes twinkle as they scour my face, tracing every feature like it’s the first time. And then he shakes his head and turns back to the stove. “Dinner will be ready in fifteen minutes.”

When Nadia returns, we search the web for what her options are while I polish off a third glass of wine. On one hand, I feel like I’m completely ignoring Stefan. On the other, I’m not sure I care. I’m having fun helping Nadia.

This date isn’t so bad after all.

Once Stefan finishes cooking, Nadia and I set the table while chatting about her strengths and favorite subjects at school. Math and sciences are a breeze. It’s the language arts and language-based classes that are killing her. She’s fluent in French and Romanian, so English is her third language. I can barely speak two languages. According to my family, my Punjabi is an ‘embarrassment,’ so in my book, struggling with her third one is understandable.

The duck dish Stefan made is heaven. Crispy skin, served over a bed of creamy polenta with a fresh bitter-greens salad topped with blue cheese and walnuts.

“Oh my god,” I moan. I’m feeling loose from the wine and, in the back of my mind, I identify the sound as almost sexual, but I don’t care. It is truly succulent. “The only thing missing is a blueberry reduction for the duck.”

“Yeah?” Stefan asks with a quirk of his head as he sips a glass of wine from the second bottle.

“Yeah. My parents own a blueberry farm. I’ll hook you up when they come into season.”

“Can I come pick blueberries?” Nadia asks excitedly.

I snort. The charm of picking berries has pretty much completely worn off for me. People actually pay my parents to come pick their own berries, something that never fails to make me chuckle. But I refuse to quash her enthusiasm. “Of course.”

Dinner carries on much the same, but I still catch Stefan staring at me over the candle lit in the middle of the table. The flame highlights the blend of colors in his irises—the greens, the golds. His eyes are beautiful, and throughout the meal, I remind myself not to get lost in them. In him.

“That was incredible.” I lean back and toss my napkin on the table beside my very empty plate. “Thank you.” I smile at him, and it’s genuine.

I’ve had a thoroughly enjoyable night. Relaxing even. I’ve felt my carefully placed walls crumble, and right now I don’t feel like beating myself up about it. There’s something distinctly intimate about tonight. Something sweet that I don’t want to over-analyze.

But it doesn’t mean I don’t need to leave before I do something I’ll regret.

“Nadia, do you have your driver’s license?” I ask, staring at the glass of sparkling water before her.

She scoffs, sounding distinctly teenager-like in that moment. “Of course, I do.”

She hasn’t touched the wine tonight. At nineteen, she’s of legal age here, but she hasn’t asked, and Stefan hasn’t offered. “Would you be willing to drive me home and then pick me up tomorrow morning?”

She shrugs. “Sure.”

Stefan stares at me from over the flame. His pointer finger circling the top of his glass while he gazes at me. It’s almost hypnotic.

He doesn’t offer to drive me, but that’s for the best. His eyes are a bit glassy, his smiles a little easier. We have both thoroughly enjoyed the two bottles of wine.

I break the spell when I say, “I’ll help clean up.”

“You absolutely will not. You’re the guest,” he replies smoothly, leaning back in his chair.

He oozes class and control. Looking like a dreamboat professor out for a glass of wine at some fancy lounge after a long day of fending off the advances of his overeager students. I can’t help but giggle at the path my thoughts have taken after single-handedly drinking what equates to a full bottle of wine.

“Well, in that case, Stefan . . .” He quirks his head, one dimple popping up on his cheek as it hitches, hanging on my words in a way that not many people do. “Thank you for the truly outstanding meal. I had a delightful night.”

“Yeah. I actually like this one,” Nadia says absently, now browsing through her phone.

I burst out laughing, slapping a hand across my mouth to cover my guffaw.

“Nadia, go put your laptop away and get what you need to drive Dr. Thorne home.”

She salutes from her forehead without even looking up at him as she replies with, “Sir, yes sir,” and then slowly moves toward the stairs, eyes not leaving her phone.

I stand as Stefan ushers me toward the front door. His palm briefly presses into the small of my back as he guides me into the hallway, and I feel the imprint of his warm hand through my sweater like a brand. There’s a catch in my breath and in my step at the feel—the familiarity of the touch. It sears me. I feel like if someone looked, they’d be able to make out the swirls of his fingerprints against my milky skin.

Words fail me as he holds the long plaid coat out for me to slide my arms into. The wine has my mind going places it absolutely should not, and the press of his firm body behind mine leaves me feeling heady. He’s not even touching me, but I swear I can feel the weight of him against my shoulder blades, guiding them together and pressing on my lungs. His mere presence sticks to me like static cling.

“Thank you for coming tonight,” he whispers, his accented voice endlessly deep, turning me to face him and smoothing down the lapels of my coat. Like we do this all the time.

He takes a hold of my wrist and presses a swift, feather-light kiss to the center of my palm. Something that feels intensely personal.

My tongue darts out to wet my bottom lip as I gaze up at his proud posture and the trouble-making glint in his eye. “Thank you for having me.”

I smile, but it’s watery and uncertain. The man has me completely off-balance. My pulse beats in my stomach. Nice Stefan threw me for a loop, but Doting Stefan, who cooks and cleans and loves his little sister, is straight crushing my ovaries.

Any man could do those things and you’d find it attractive, my mind assures me right before he leans in and presses a kiss to the sensitive spot just below my ear.

Then my mind goes blank. Goosebumps crawl in slow motion, covering my entire body. The feel of him towering over me, the rasp of his stubble against my cheek, causes all coherent thoughts to flee my mind along with the air from my chest.

Nadia’s steps thump down the stairs, breaking the spell. I step back quickly, trying to even out my breathing and be strong enough to still look him in the eye.

“One sec,” I whisper, my voice cracking in the most obvious way. “I’ll be right back.”

I dart into the kitchen and then return to wait while Nadia ties up her laces. I can feel Stefan’s gaze on me as though he’s trailing a finger everywhere he looks. My body hums as I recall the rough scrape of his stubble and the hot press of his hand.

I need to get the fuck out of here.

With a casual wave over my shoulder, I escape onto the front porch and start walking to my truck, sucking in deep breaths of cool air as I go. A few moments later, Nadia catches up and slides into the driver’s seat.

Pale eyebrows knit together suspiciously. “All good?” she asks.

I pull out the carton of eggs I hid in my coat and smile at her with all my teeth. The perfect distraction. “Yup. Did I mention I’m well acquainted with where Principal Cooper lives?”

“Good morning, Dr. Thorne.”

Stefan’s voice used to make me roll my eyes. But now it just feels like someone is sliding silk around my neck. Probably to make a noose, which is what thinking about Stefan this way is going to get me.

A death sentence. At least where my friends are concerned.

“Hi, Stefan,” I say stiffly as I check the mare and foal over carefully. Nadia just picked me up and drove me back to my truck at Cascade Acres, so it seemed like the perfect time to do my daily check on the horses.

“How is Loki today?”

I snort. I got a kick out of the nameplate when I saw it. My fingers itched to fire him off a text message about how he named a horse after himself. But for the sake of keeping our professional boundaries clear, I resisted.

“Full of piss and vinegar.” I smile as I turn, but the grin quickly slides off my face as I take in the sight of him and the hunter green bespoke suit he’s wearing. The man wears an expensive suit like he was born in it. Like whoever came up with suits as a thing was looking at Stefan when the idea struck them.

It’s borderline criminal.

The crisp white shirt underneath has a few buttons open and a perfect V of tan skin at the top of his chest shows, just below where his Adam’s apple bobs. It’s not borderline, it is criminal. And me looking at him like this, dragging my tongue around on the barn floor, is even worse.

I don’t even know if I can blame the wine anymore this morning.

“Where are you off to looking so dapper?”

“The police station and then the city,” his voice dances with amusement as his eyes home in on mine.

I school my features. This is one of those situations where I’m better off listening than talking. “Oh?” I reply, turning to pat Farrah.

“Mmhmm. It seems they have some questions for me. Someone egged Principal Cooper’s car last night. Of course, we were all at my house having dinner. So, I just need to clarify that for them. May I put you down as a witness?”

I should argue; I don’t really want anyone knowing I was at Stefan Dalca’s house for dinner. But I don’t want to come off guilty either. “Of course.” My lips tilt up in a grimace at the white lie.

He just stares back at me, and it unnerves me to my core. I seriously hope I’m not blushing, but I can’t risk saying anything, so I blink and offer him an even bigger smile. Enthusiasm, Mira. “Hope everything goes okay.”

“Everything is going wonderfully,” he replies, his voice softening as his gaze burns across my face.

He doesn’t sound mad. Fuck. This is awkward. He couldn’t possibly know.

“Well, good luck.” I sound lame, even to my own ears. “I’ll be back tomorrow to check on them.”

I beam brightly, grab my case, mouth “excuse me” as I squeeze past him, and try to force myself to walk with a confident swagger down the barn alleyway toward the parking lot rather than sprinting away like I want to.

“Hey, Mira?” he calls out right as I reach for the door handle.

“Yeah?” I toss back into the echoey barn, continuing my forward motion.

“You owe me a carton of eggs.”

Well, shit.