“Not bad reviews for the XDiavel.” She read off her screen. “‘Brave, irreverent, and unconventional.’ ‘So good to be bad.’ ‘Powerful.’ ‘Muscular.’ ‘Imposing front.’ ‘Strong and restless.’” She snorted a laugh. “Did you match the motorcycle to your personality or was it the other way around?”

Liam’s chest puffed with pride. “It called to me in the showroom.”

Daisy laughed. “Imagine that.”

It was the laugh he remembered, the deep, throaty chuckle that warmed him inside. For a moment he allowed himself to imagine her on his bike, arms locked around his waist, chest pressed up against his back, her thighs curved against his hips. He imagined riding with her until they ran out of road, leaving the past behind them.

Maybe Rainey was right. Maybe he had fallen for his fake fiancée. And there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it except keep playing the game.

“Who are we meeting today?” Daisy asked. “I like to be prepared.”

“A mix of great-aunts and great-uncles who came from Ireland for the funeral, and relatives who live nearby.” He rattled off a list of names. “You’ll know my aunts Roisin and Fiona right away because they’re always fighting, and usually they’ll drag my uncle Fitz into it. Great-Uncle Seamus is a bit of character. He was only here a few days and managed to stir up trouble flirting with the neighbor’s wife. Brendan will be there with his wife, Lauren, and his son, Jaxon, and there might be a few others . . .”

“Don’t look so concerned.” Daisy tapped her head. “I’ve got this. Every name is in the mental vault, and I’ve got our talking points on my phone in case you didn’t read them.”

Puzzled, he frowned. “What talking points?”

“They’re going to ask us questions about our relationship,” Daisy said. “I was caught off guard at work when Tyler blurted out the news of our engagement, and I don’t want it to happen again. I wrote out the story of how we met in an e-mail, as well as the answers to other questions they might ask, and sent it to you. As I suspected, you didn’t read it.”

Liam grimaced. “I get a lot of e-mails . . .”

Her free hand found her hip. “Is that supposed to be an apology?”

“Yes?” Despite Daisy’s obvious annoyance, he felt a curious sense of peace wash over him. He’d been worried about this get-together, but Daisy clearly had everything under control. Just as she had done in the past, she took all the chaos and made it calm.

“It better be or you’re suddenly going to find yourself without a fiancée.” She pressed her lips together and glared. “You should read it before we go in so you know how we met.”

“I thought we met at a tech conference a few weeks ago after you bumped into me with an armload of stolen pads,” he teased.

“I didn’t steal them,” Daisy gritted out. “And we can’t say that because we’re supposed to have met months ago. I came up with a story about how we met at a bus stop during a rainstorm. Kissing in the rain is the ultimate cinematic symbol of uncontrollable passion. It’s the moment when the audience willingly accepts that the characters’ love is so intense that they don’t even notice they are getting wet.”

“Someone has been reading too many art house film reviews.” With one hand on her lower back, Liam walked her to the front door. “Just so I understand, we met again after ten years, and instead of the usual catch-up, we threw ourselves at each other in a passionate kiss, so instantly and intensely in love we didn’t even notice the rain?” He shook his head. “It doesn’t make sense.”

“No kiss. I’ll make it clear in the story.” She handed him the box of sweets to type on her phone.

Liam leaned over to look at her screen. “Also make it clear that I don’t take the bus, so I would never be at a bus stop.”

“You were sheltering there.”

Liam frowned. “Why would I run to a bus stop instead of going into a building?”

“Because there were no buildings.” She tipped her head back in exasperation. “Why are you making this so difficult?”

“Where is this bus stop in the middle of nowhere?” Liam continued, enjoying the chance to ruffle her feathers. “Why would I be somewhere that only has a bus stop and no buildings? And why am I out in the rain?”

“I don’t know.” Daisy’s voice rose in pitch. “You’re supposed to be the one with the imagination. Not me. I can’t make things up on the spot. That story took me hours to create.”

“Why don’t we tell people the truth?” he suggested. “After losing touch for ten years, we met at a work conference—they don’t need to know which one. You realized who I was and—”

“I ran away.” Her lips curved in a smile as they reached the door.

“Then I chased you,” Liam said. “I caught you because I am bigger and faster . . .”

“And I called for the security guard and had you arrested.” She tucked her phone away, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “They took you to the police station and charged you with threatening behavior and assault. They stripped you down, gave you an orange jumpsuit and put you in a holding cell with a bunch of thugs. Things didn’t go well for you because the thugs took issue with your handsome face. Vengeance was served. The end.”

Liam stared at her, aghast. “For someone with no imagination, that’s a pretty detailed story.”

“Actually, it’s not mine. It’s a scene from the Bollywood film Jail. I put you in the role of Parag Dixit, who gets jailed for false possession of narcotics and evidence tampering. He is mentally and physically tortured for the entire movie. It’s one of my dad’s favorites.”