Page 18

EIGHTEEN

lauren

Did I just sign Tate up for my family reunion? I think I did.

But in my defense, I’m fairly certain Tate is okay with it—after all, he’s the one who showed up here, ready to save me from Bart’s humiliation campaign.

And he brought Annie, whose presence feels like a tiny patch of sunlight in the shadow of Mom’s absence.

I’m willing to do anything this week to make sure Annie isn’t taken to another shelter.

I know James has a strict no-euthanasia policy, but not all shelters operate that way.

If it takes an Oscar-worthy performance to secure that donation check and save the shelter, then that’s what I’ll deliver.

I’d fake a proposal if necessary. All for Annie.

Which means I need to sell this fake girlfriend thing with everything I’ve got.

We’re still in the dining room where my sister has managed to clean up the aftermath of the Camden and Kaylie Tornado Team when I realize I haven’t prepared Tate for any of this—my family’s intense nature, what I expect from a boyfriend, and how this week of Olympic bedlam will actually unfold.

I leave Tate deep in conversation with Granny while I beeline over to my sister. “Can you keep Annie for an hour?” I hand off the dog before my sister answers.

“Wait—where are you going?” she asks, suddenly concerned that I might be leaving again.

“Grocery store.” I check my watch. “Text me if Annie has an accident while I’m gone.”

My sister rolls her eyes. “I have two kids; I can deal with a puppy. Oh, by the way, could you pick up a few things for the reunion?” She hands me a list written on a purple sticky note before I head out the door.

Harold’s Market won’t be busy this late, which means I can give Tate a crash course on my family and how to behave as my new boyfriend. I grab his arm and pull Tate toward the door. “Sorry, Granny, but we need to go.”

“Oh, really?” she says, getting a gleam in her eye. “Well, don’t let me keep you two lovebirds apart.”

Once we’re outside and safely away from the house, Tate turns to me. “So, where are we going?”

“The grocery store,” I say, hurrying toward my car.

“Oh,” he says, almost sounding disappointed. “I thought it was something important.”

“It is important,” I say. “I need to give you a crash course on dating me.”

Tate quirks a brow but follows me to the car without argument.

The ride to Harold’s Market is quiet, both of us processing the unexpected turn our evening has taken.

I steal a glance at him while stopped at a traffic light.

He doesn’t look upset about being dragged into my family free-for-all—just thoughtful, as if he’s calculating his next move.

“Thanks again,” I say, interrupting the silence. “For showing up tonight. Even though I told you not to.”

A hint of those dimples appears. “You’re welcome, Sunny.”

I can’t quite stop the smile that follows. Maybe this week won’t be a complete disaster after all.

The drive to Harold’s Market takes only five minutes, but it feels like a welcome breath of fresh air after the suffocating mix of family drama and surprise visit from my new boyfriend.

“Brace yourself,” I say. “If anyone sees us together, the entire town will know by breakfast.” When we arrive, I grab a cart and head for the produce aisle, speed-walking past the checkout aisles near the door.

This is where the loose lips of Sully’s Beach love to share gossip while their groceries get bagged.

It’s not until I stop at the mountain of cantaloupe that I realize Tate is not behind me.

I spin around, only to see him being cornered by Delilah, who apparently was checking out as Tate strolled through.

She glances between Tate and me with that expression I know all too well, and I back my cart up faster than a cop can throw his car in reverse.

“Well, hello, Miss Delilah, hello, Miss Tina,” I say, pulling up next to the checkout lane where Tina is bagging her groceries. Tina is Leo’s birth mom, and she only recently settled in Sully’s Beach to be closer to her hockey-playing son.

“I see you’re shopping late tonight,” I say to Delilah. “Aren’t you missing your favorite game show right now?” I’m hoping this reminder will hurry her along.

“Oh no, Wheel of Fortune was already on at six. I prefer coming to the market before closing time. You always run into people in a personal crisis at this hour.”

“How is Big Bertha?” I ask, trying to redirect the conversation toward her overweight parrot.

“Oh, swearing like a sailor as usual,” she says with a sigh. “We’ve tried to improve his manners, but he’s resistant. Apparently, you can’t teach an old bird new tricks.”

“How unfortunate,” I say, biting back a smile. “Well, if you’ll excuse us…”

I try to grab Tate’s arm and yank him toward the produce aisle, but Delilah is too quick.

“What brings you to Harold’s Market so late?”

I brush my hair over one ear. “Last-minute supplies for my family reunion. Nothing exciting, really.” Then I turn to go, the wheel on the cart squeaking as I forge ahead .

Delilah steps in my way, looking like she has all the time in the world for a friendly chat. “Tate is attending your family reunion?”

My eyes flick uncertainly to Tate, then back to Delilah. “Oh, you know Tate. He heard my Family Olympics had a paintball category, so naturally, he insisted on tagging along.”

“Oh, really?”

“He has many talents, don’t you, Tate?” He doesn’t answer right away, and I have to elbow him in the side.

“Uh, yeah,” he says, frowning like he’s confused why this is a question. “Statistically speaking, the odds of hitting potential in-laws with paint capsules are just too satisfying to pass up.”

Delilah’s mouth falls open slightly.

“He’s joking,” I add quickly, though Tate’s deadpan delivery makes it impossible to tell. “He’s actually very gentle. Aren’t you, Tate?”

He looks at me. “Only when I have the right target.”

My heart does a weird flutter in my chest as I look away.

“Does this mean he’s your partner for the Family Olympics, then?” Delilah is greedily soaking this up. “Because I heard Bart and Abby pretty much have the competition sewn up.”

How Delilah knows these things, I’ll never know. Apparently, this market is ripe with predictions about my family.

“Bart is a meathead,” Tina mutters, piling Delilah’s brownie mixes into a bag. “He doesn’t stand a chance against Tate even if he has competed in these games before. Tate’s got brains. Bart is an idiot.”

“Well, thank you for your vote of confidence, Miss Tina,” Tate says proudly.

Rourke strolls up to the checkout counter next with a tub of cookie butter ice cream and a bag of beef jerky.

“What are you doing here?” Tate asks, looking over his questionable food choices.

“Late-night snack,” Rourke says, grabbing some breath mints next to the register. “Just for the record, I’m placing bets on Bart and Abby for the win. ”

“Excuse me, but how do you know about my reunion?” I ask, setting my hands on my hips. I’m not surprised Delilah knows since she’s got nothing better to do, but Rourke isn’t even from around here.

“Word gets around when your entire family descends on a town,” Rourke says. “Anyway, you’re going to have to get Sheriff here to loosen up if you want to survive, since he overthinks everything.”

“I do not overthink things,” Tate fires back, flashing a look at his teammate. “I’m just strategic. There’s a difference.”

“Not for you,” Rourke says. “You’ll be halfway through the balloon toss before he even finishes explaining the physics of the perfect toss. And heaven forbid there’s a canoe race involved—he’ll probably lecture everyone on water safety and kill the mood.”

Tate scowls. “Thanks, Rourke. Helpful.”

“Any time,” Rourke says. “My other prediction is that you won’t last the week together before Lauren will get sick of you.”

Delilah’s jaw drops. “So, it’s true that you’re dating?”

“Well, if you believe Rourke,” I say, shooting a glare at him.

Delilah picks up her grocery bags quickly, like she’s suddenly remembered something. “I need to get home. I think I left my oven on.” She looks like she can’t race out of here fast enough to share this juicy turn of events.

I whirl around to Rourke, who is only too happy to stoke the fire of this town’s insatiable appetite for gossip. “Rourke, I have a special PR assignment for you when the season begins.”

He smirks. “Oh, really? Do I get to pose on your bike this time? I won’t need driving lessons, unlike Sheriff here.”

“Nope, sorry.” I chuckle lightly. “I have something extra special for you, involving a ridiculous costume and small children.”

Rourke’s face falls. “Oh, well, I might not be available for a few weeks…or years. Actually, I might be moving to another country.” He quickly hands Tina his money before bolting toward the door. “Keep the change, Miss Tina.”

I give Tate a smile before heading toward the produce section.

Tate stares at me as I circle the melon table. “What?” I finally ask.

“You are the only person I know who can scare that man,” Tate says.

“It’s a gift,” I say. “I’m exceptional at scaring hockey players. I scared you with my PR plan, didn’t I?”

“Maybe.” Tate stops and tosses a melon from one hand to another like it’s a basketball.

“But I think the bigger problem is that you make it hard to concentrate. And when I can’t concentrate, it throws me.

” The way he says it—eyes steady, voice low—makes me feel like we’re suddenly talking about something much more serious than hockey PR.

I stare at him for a second before focusing on the cantaloupe. “What melon should I buy?” I squeeze the first melon I pick up. It’s rock hard.

Tate reaches for a smaller one. “You should smell it first.” He lifts the melon to his nose, then lowers it slowly. “You can learn a lot from how something smells.”

“Like what?”

“Like whether you’ll remember it. Or think about it later.”

I let out a dry laugh. “Well, now I’ll never look at a cantaloupe the same again.”