Connor situated his hands over her L2 vertebrae. “Breathe out.”
    Amazingly, she obliged, as did her stiff joints. A series of pops echoed through the room, and the instant gratification nearly melted her through the bench. She might not like him yet, but at least she trusted him with her spine. Maybe she wasn’t as hard to crack as she put on.
    “I know I only heard one side of the conversation,” he dared. “But it sounded to me like that tight corner you’ve backed yourself into doesn’t have an easy way out without my help.”
    Ainsley whipped around on the bench.
    He would’ve laughed at her pitiful glare if the waves of hair falling out of her barely-together-ponytail weren’t distracting him. What he’d assumed was a simple brown turned into strands of auburn highlights only outnumbered by the intricate strands of blues in her eyes.
    “You really are presumptuous, aren’t you?”
    He chuckled. “You can thank my New York City upbringing for that, but I prefer bold.”
    She seemed to grant him the exchange. “New York City, huh? Of all the places you could go to consult, what in the world lured you all the way out to Whispering Pines?”
    “Fate, I suppose. My first lead fell through last minute. Dr. Southerland contacted me with an open door, so… here I am.”
    A skeptical look trailed over him. “Here you are,” she said after a minute. “Running away from something in New York?”
    He dragged a knuckle along the crease of his mouth, more amused by her brazenness than anything. “I like to think of it as running to something. Exploration. Discovery.” Connor sat on the rolling stool. “Lots of names for it.” None of which his father approved. “Guess you could say I was looking for a change of pace.” He would spare her the full details he didn’t want to get into anyway.
    Her eyes flicked away from his. “Then I’m afraid you’ve come to the wrong place. Not much here but farmland, meddling families, and antiquated values.”
    He angled to catch her gaze. “I’ve only just met you, Ainsley Grace Jamison, and I can assure you. You’ve already proven that wrong.”
    A shade of pink made the smatter of freckles along her cheeks even cuter, but it didn’t take long for the reaction to fade. “Trust me. You haven’t known me very long.”
    Truth be told, he didn’t know her at all, and yet… “Being your date to Thanksgiving dinner could change that.”
    She jerked halfway up, shrieked, and flopped backward again. “Ow.”
    Connor rounded the corner of the bench to find a loose section of her hair tangled around one of the bolts securing the headpiece in place. He bent to one knee for a closer look and offered another shriek-inducing attempt to free her. Fighting a laugh, he scrubbed a hand down his chin. “Well, this is a first.”
    “My specialty.” Full-on blushing this time, she gave the ceiling tiles another solid examination, and that was all it took. Ainsley Grace had officially done him in.
    Connor pushed off the bench to stand. “Give me a minute.”
    “Don’t you dare come back with scissors,” she called as he slipped out of the room.
    Once he was hidden in the supply closet, his laughter came freely. Oh, she was something else all right. He was probably walking into more trouble than he needed during his short stay in North Carolina. But based on what he’d seen today, playing her pretend boyfriend would be worth every ounce of it. He just had to convince her of the same.