Page 22

TWENTY-ONE

Tate

I stretch and roll over, feeling clamped down by something on top of me. My brain, still foggy with sleep, takes a second to process the fact that I am not alone in this bed. There’s an arm draped across my chest. A leg hitched over mine.

Lauren’s leg.

Every muscle in my body tenses as my sleep-addled brain catches up to reality.

There’s still a sleeping bag between us, but that doesn’t matter.

Heat pricks my skin as her tangerine scent washes over me.

My body is fully aware of the fact that Lauren is practically wrapped around me like a boa constrictor.

The moment I let myself entertain the idea of being with Lauren, I’m in serious trouble.

Sure, there’s a spark of something every time her brown eyes meet mine.

But I have to stop myself from thinking there could be anything more than that brief connection between us.

She’s my PR manager, and I’ve already learned how easily a woman can snap my heart in half.

I try to extract myself from this precarious position, but she’s got me in a hold. I weigh my options. I could wake her up. But then I’d have to explain why I let her use me as a body pillow all night.

Instead, I attempt a concentrated, strategic escape, wiggling out from under her arm and leg inch by inch. When I’m almost free, she shifts, mumbling something incoherent, and throws her leg back over me.

I swallow hard, staring at the ceiling. This is how I die.

Okay, Sheriff, pull yourself together.

I take four deep breaths, and then, after a series of excruciatingly slow movements, I roll away, slipping out of the sleeping bag. I run a hand down my face, trying to shake off the heat still on my skin.

Behind me, Lauren stirs. “It’s morning?” she murmurs, her voice groggy as she lifts her face off the pillow, just enough for me to catch the faintest hint of drool on her cheek.

I clear my throat. “Yeah. You sleep okay?”

She groans. “Terribly. I swear I could hear mice under the bed all night.”

“Funny, because you seemed pretty comfortable,” I say, smirking. “I was trapped under a human octopus for most of the night.”

Horror dawns on her face. “No. Nooooo. ” She pushes herself up into a seated position.

My grin widens. “Oh, you definitely did.”

Lauren groans and flops back onto the pillow. “This is exactly why I don’t share beds.”

She lifts her head long enough to glance around the room. “Where’s the coffee? I need some bad. My head is pounding.”

I slide a hat over my hair. “You think this house has a coffeemaker? Think again, Sunny.” The kitchen is basic at best, with only a mini-stove and a sink. “I’ll get you some coffee at the house,” I say, sliding on a shirt.

As I move toward the door, she suddenly sits up. “You know, we haven’t talked about today. How we should act together as a couple. We need a plan.”

I stop in the door. “Is this going to involve public humiliation of any kind? ”

“No, but we didn’t cover how my boyfriends have acted in the past.”

I pause, one hand on the doorknob. “All right, give me the basics. What not to do first.”

“Well, for starters, don’t act like Bart. He always talked about himself, like he was constantly trying to impress people. Just be yourself.”

I nod. “Got it. No acting like the world’s worst boyfriend. That’ll be easy.”

She stretches, like she’s finally waking up. “And if anyone asks how we met, you asked me out to the coffee shop, there was an instant connection, and the rest is history.”

“Oh, come on, you can’t make up a story about how you saw me in the locker room peeling off my jersey and knew you couldn’t resist me?”

Lauren grins. “In your dreams, Sheriff.”

I shrug. “It was worth a try.”

“And most important of all, show them you’re the better boyfriend.”

She hesitates, then adds, “Also, we should probably talk about…touching.” Her eyes flick briefly to me as she starts tidying the bed. “You know, so it looks natural when we’re around the family.”

“You mean like holding hands, that sort of thing?” I ask, trying to sound casual.

“Yeah, and maybe the occasional arm around shoulders or waist. Nothing major, but enough that we don’t look like awkward strangers pretending to date.” She shrugs. “Just so we’re both comfortable with the boundaries.”

I nod, mentally cataloging these acceptable touches like items on a checklist. This is the kind of thing that should come naturally, but for me, it never has.

“I should probably warn you,” I say, rubbing the back of my neck. “I’ve only had one serious girlfriend. And apparently, I did everything wrong in that relationship. ”

Lauren tilts her head, frowning. “Why do you think that?”

“She told me so. After dating through college, she decided she wanted someone different. A man who made her ‘a lot happier,’ according to her. Then she gave me a list of things I needed to work on, starting with the first instruction: stop being so logical. ” I try not to let the hurt creep into my voice.

One month before graduation she dropped me, told me she’d found someone else.

After that, I promised myself I’d never put myself in that position again.

Never again would I let someone see every part of me and then throw it back in my face by listing my personality traits as weaknesses.

“That’s terrible,” she says, frowning. “Being logical is one of your strengths. I trust your opinions because I know you’ve already thought through everything.”

I look at the floor, kick a piece of stray gravel out of the doorway. “I wasn’t fishing for compliments.”

She stands, wrapping her blanket around her. “I know, but even when Bart broke up with me, I didn’t give him a list of his faults. And there were many .”

I chuckle. “I’m just surprised you didn’t break up with him first.”

She turns away from me to make the bed. “Mom was dying, and that was the only thing I could deal with. Any more change felt like too much. So Bart—who was constantly annoyed that I was spending all my time with my mother—decided for both of us right after the reunion. Honestly, it was the best thing that could have happened. I didn’t realize he was dragging me down so much until he left. ”

I watch as Lauren straightens the pillows and folds up my sleeping bag. Classic Lauren—always finding something to do rather than sit with uncomfortable feelings.

“Lauren, you didn’t deserve that, not when you were dealing with so much. And you should have spent every last moment with your mother.”

She looks up at me, and even from across the cabin, I can see her eyes gloss over with tears.

“Well, I’ve learned from my mistakes with men.

” She folds her blanket next, laying it across the bed neatly.

“And I didn’t mean to drop all of that on you this morning.

You don’t need an early-morning confessional before you’ve had coffee. ”

I walk over to her and put my hands on her shoulders gently. “Never apologize for sharing something about your mom. I know what it’s like to lose someone. It sucks to carry it all by yourself.”

She looks at me, and her brow crinkles a little. We might be different people, but grief is universal. And when you find someone else that gets it, it’s a gift.

Annie gives a little yip from her cage, reminding us she needs a walk. “You want me to take her with me?” I ask Lauren.

She shakes her head. “No, I’ll do it. You get coffee.”

I step out of the cabin, inhaling the crisp morning air, and make my way back to the lodge.

When I arrive, Camden and Kaylie are already at the breakfast table along with the other cousins, while the adults search for cereal bowls and clean up spilled granola.

The smell of fresh-brewed coffee is a warm welcome as I sift through the random mug collection in the cabinet.

“Did you sleep well last night?” Granny intercepts me with a curious smile.

Something about her tone makes me feel like she knows something. Or maybe it’s my own guilt clawing at me. “My sleep was fine.”

“You’re staying at the cabin in the woods?” She studies me like she has all the secrets of the universe.

I choose a mug with a giant smiley face on it for Lauren and fill it to the brim. “That is correct. And for what it’s worth, you should be a spy.”

“I would make an excellent one, wouldn’t I?” She beams. “All those episodes of Murder, She Wrote are finally paying off.” She looks around. “Where’s Lauren?”

“Uh, she could be sleeping. ”

“Still?” Granny says, raising her brows. “Maybe I should ask Patty when I see her.”

The last thing Lauren needs is Patty spilling the beans. It wouldn’t take much for Granny to figure out that Lauren ended up with me.

“I’ll find out,” I volunteer. “I was going to bring Lauren some coffee anyway.”

“Oh, isn’t that sweet.” She tweaks my arm like I’m six.

“Well, you know how Lauren can be without coffee,” I say with a chuckle.

“Oh, I know. Maybe I should go with you—just to surprise her.”

“Well, that’s not necessary,” I stammer, realizing we’re in dangerous territory now.

Granny absolutely cannot accompany me to the cabin.

She’ll see there’s only one bed and naturally assume things.

“I think Lauren would appreciate not seeing anyone until she’s had coffee. She’s rather sensitive about that.”

“Lauren, sensitive?” She cackles. “That girl is steel. She didn’t even cry at her mother’s funeral.”

I stare at Granny for a beat, taking this in. Lauren didn’t show emotion at her mother’s funeral? How is that possible when her eyes teared up just talking about her mom at the cabin?

“Granny!” Kaylie cries, running up to her. “Camden spilled his juice. And now he’s licking it off the floor.”

“Oh, dear,” Granny says, making a beeline toward the table, leaving me enough time to text Lauren. I probably have a few minutes at best to warn her that I won’t be coming back to the cabin. Not with Granny playing spy.

Me

Granny is looking for you.

Lauren

You didn’t tip her off, did you?

Me

No, but let’s just say, I think she’s on to us.

Lauren

How do I sneak up to the house without anyone seeing?

I glance over to the table and catch Granny glancing over at me like a hawk as she settles Camden back in his chair. Yeah, Lauren is definitely going to need to watch her back this week, sneaking in and out of my cabin.

Me

Make a run for it. If anyone asks, you were up early, taking Annie for a walk.

Granny hurries over, opening the pantry door. “Anyone see a mop?”

“I’ll get one,” I volunteer, heading toward the basement, stalling for time.

She frowns, but hands me the key to the maintenance closet. “I thought you were taking Lauren her coffee before it gets cold?”

“I want to help you first.”

Granny gives me a pleased smile. “What a gentleman.”

I take my time finding the mop, then lumber up the stairs, dragging everything out for as long as possible. When I finally reach the dining room, I check the window that faces the woods.

A blur of golden-brown hair ducks behind some bushes, then Lauren, hunched over in full stealth mode with Annie, darts across the yard.

“Is that Lauren?” Aunt Karen asks, craning her neck to get a good look. “Why is she hunched over like that? Does she have a back problem?”

“Probably the rock-hard mattresses in this place,” Uncle Bobby says, pouring milk onto his cereal.

Granny glances at the window, then at me. “I thought you said she was sleeping?”

I frown. “Huh. Must have been wrong. ”

A few seconds later, Lauren slides into the kitchen, slightly out of breath.

“Lauren, nice to see you this morning,” I say, handing her the coffee mug.

“How did you sleep last night?” she asks, giving me a little smile I’m starting to like too much.

“Never better.” I play along. “You?”

“Except for my roommate, it wasn’t bad,” she says, giving me a wink before taking a sip of coffee.

Without thinking, I rest my hand at the small of her back as she steps closer, a gesture that feels surprisingly natural. Her eyes meet mine for a split second before she leans slightly into the touch.

Olivia passes through the kitchen, giving us both a look. “You two act like you haven’t seen each other since last night or something.”

“One night is a long time,” Lauren says.

“You owe me,” I mouth to her.