Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 125257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 501(@250wpm)___ 418(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 501(@250wpm)___ 418(@300wpm)
I slump down in the seat. Sometimes adulting just really sucks. Like when I walk into my place, feeling both better for having told the truth to Clem at least—and a little achy, knowing that both this fake romance and the real fling I’m having with my friend’s brother is cruising toward its inevitable end.
But I’m going to enjoy the ride.
38
SOME PEOPLE
REMY
No one needs a new set of napkin rings, or napkin rings at all. No one needs an ice cream maker, or soup tureen either.
But cookware? Gently used woks? Dutch ovens? Never-been-used blenders?
Pretty much anyone can use those. Which is why I’m beaming like a proud mama as Caroline’s friends arrive at Lake’s family’s equine therapy ranch, and make their way to the edge of the bird sanctuary—escorted by Gavin and Mira—where we’ve set up picnic tables to collect the secondhand items.
By the time the Something Shared Shower is underway, the table is stacked high with all sorts of kitchen gadgets and household items that Caroline and Parker are going to take to a local charity that helps foster kids set up their own homes when they age out of the system. Caroline came to me for suggestions of charities and this was my top pick. The videographer circles, capturing the scene for Fresh Face. Good. I’m glad the brand is capturing something meaningful on camera.
“I told you it wouldn’t be like a traditional shower,” I say to Lake, pleased that Caroline kicked that old-fashioned tradition to the curb, choosing instead to give back.
We’re standing by the fence at the edge of the property as guests mill about, snagging appetizers from The Green Pantry, a Cozy Valley bistro where I placed a last-minute order yesterday.
He leans closer, his shoulder brushing mine. “Spoiler alert: I’ve never been to a traditional shower.”
I tense for a second, but then decide to seize the moment. The afternoon sun is bright, highlighting his strong jaw, his cool eyes, and his intensity. An intensity I want to know more about.
“Did you have one for your wedding?” I ask, gripped with the curiosity to understand his past more.
He shakes his head. “No. It felt weird to ask people to give me gifts when I’d just gotten a good contract with the pros.”
“I hear you,” I say, liking that he was thoughtful.
“It was a pretty simple wedding too. I’m not that into…”
“Appearances?” I ask.
He shrugs. “Yeah. Some people would say I’m an asocial grump.”
I laugh. “Are you some people?”
“You know, I think I am,” he says, a little evilly, like he’s embracing this side of himself. “You’re the opposite though.”
He’s not wrong. “I’m definitely social. I like groups, like this,” I say, feeling calm and centered as I survey the scene—friends mingling, people laughing, guests admiring the blue herons and the bride and groom. It’s a serene setting here in the meadow, a stream gurgling, the blue sky stretching as far as the eye can see. “I’m glad we pulled this off, thanks to you.”
“All I did was say yes. You did this, beautiful. This is all you. Your idea, your planning. You made it happen.”
I stand a little taller, loving the praise. “It was fun. Like a puzzle,” I say.
He wraps his arm tighter around me, takes a beat, then clears his throat, waving to the crowd here. “Would you…want one like this?”
The question comes out so earnestly, a man trying to understand a woman. It makes my heart squeeze.
“I definitely don’t want household gadgets, new or gently used. I don’t really cook much anyway,” I say, and briefly wonder if it’s too much to bring up a future wedding shower with a man I’m fake dating and real flinging with. But I found the courage to talk to his sister last night and tell her the truth. In for a penny…“I think I’d do a volunteer shower—where you ask your friends to do a beach cleanup with you, or plant some trees, or walk dogs together at the local shelter.”
Lake’s smile is soft, thoughtful. “That’s very you.”
“Why do you say that?”
He meets my gaze. “Plants, dogs, the earth. They’re kind of your things.”
I glance around at his bird sanctuary, where an owl watches over from the owl box and where wood ducks and black-crowned night herons splash in the stream. I nudge him with my elbow. “Same to you.”
He lifts a brow, teasingly. “But I wouldn’t want a spa day.”
“Yes, I’m well aware,” I say dryly. “And I swear you engineered tomorrow’s game so you don’t have to go to it.”
“I was looking forward to seeing you in a cute little bikini,” he jokes.
“Did you think I was wearing a bikini at a spa?”
“More like hoping.”
“Try bathrobe.”
He makes a show of peering at my breasts, like he would if I were wearing a robe. “I can work with a robe.”