Page 14 of Skating and Fake Dating (Love in Maple Falls #4)

BAILEY

M om presses her fingers to her cheeks. “Not in the house, Phil.”

Aunt Bianca mutters, “Bloodstains don’t easily come out of the carpet. Taffy, I told you to pay extra for the stain guard.”

“Sir, I can explain,” Carson says, holding up his free hand in surrender.

At the top of my voice, I say, “Guys, we stopped at the flea market and volunteered at the magician’s booth.”

They run with that on a tangent about how much they like Marvin the Marvelous.

Thankfully, Uncle Bruce intervenes. “Phil, that chain isn’t rated for metal. We’re better off trying to pick the lock or getting those fence cutters.”

Uncle Bob says, “I have bolt cutters. I’ll run back to the house and grab ’em.”

Aunt Doris says, “You’ll do no such thing. You’ll miss the wedding.”

“At this rate, we’ll all be late. And just think, this could’ve been your big day, Bailey,” my mother says.

My shoulders drop on a long-held exhale because I’ve been waiting for a comment about how I used to date Tagg. “Lucky for me—” I start.

Savanna says, “But now she has this big hunk of?—”

“Hot potato,” Aunt Lesly says with a wink.

And they say I lack focus while they’re the verbal version of a jitterbug. I’m afraid we’re going to need to get some carbs in Carson in order for him to endure this, but his eyes crease with amusement until they land on me.

Now he knows the truth about what a failure I am.

And my mother’s comment about how I need to eat is a thinly veiled recommendation that I do the opposite—she read an article on reverse psychology once and used it on Dad to take out the trash more often before telegraphing the method to all of us.

Of course, Odette, with her perfect figure, won’t be receiving diet blog posts and recipes ahead of her wedding day. But I certainly will.

Again, I mouth to Carson, I’m sorry .

But he shakes his head slightly, or he’s doing a double-take. Standing at least a head taller than everyone, he towers, holds a position of command, and likely sees what’s coming before the rest of us in this perfumed crowd of busybodies.

Aunt Bianca pulls a hairpin from her updo and clicks her tongue. “Leave it to me. I will pick the lock.”

Some claim it can’t be done since they’re law enforcement-issued cuffs. Others place bets.

Mom says, “But you’re the wife of an officer of the law.”

“And the mother of seven boys. I’ve learned a thing or two in my day.”

Suffice it to say that not only do the women in my family have big mouths and strong opinions, but they’re also forces to be reckoned with. Unlike them, I tend to get steamrolled in family discussions, my voice lost in the squall of their confidence and convictions.

Carson and I sit down at the kitchen dinette where Aunt Bianca gets to work as everyone hovers around her .

“Give the woman some space to work,” Dad bellows.

“It’s not every day you get to see a crime in progress,” Uncle Bob replies.

“This isn’t a crime,” I say, desperate for them all to know what really went on.

“They’re like Bonnie and Clyde,” Catie coos.

I counter, “We were at the flea market.”

Savanna gives an exaggerated wink. “Code for robbing a bank.”

I huff. “Guys, Carson is a pro hockey player. He doesn’t need to steal anything.”

“Except your heart,” Aunt Doris says. “Watch out. He has big hands.”

Cheeks blazing, I say, “I am so, so, so?—”

Carson’s free hand caps mine, encapsulating it and sending a comforting shower of warmth directly into my bloodstream. “You were right about this being a good story.”

“By good, do you mean humiliating?”

Biting his lip, he says, “I think I get it now.”

Before I can ask him to elaborate, a distinct click is heard over the chatter.

My aunt lifts her arms in triumph. “I did it!”

Everyone cheers while Carson and I simultaneously rub our wrists. When I was arrested for breaking and entering, I was deemed a non-threat and the officers removed the cuffs after the ride to the police station.

Catie barrels toward us and points at Aunt Bianca. “I knew it. You helped my mother break into my diary!”

My mom gives me a proper hug and stage whispers, “Sweetie pie, I don’t know what kinds of activities go on in the big city, but please don’t bring your boyfriend home in cuffs again.”

I shake my head. “Mom, I was in Cobbiton, which is a small?—”

She turns to hug Carson and then leads him away.

The only words I catch are about his joining us for the wedding.

Short of leaping into the air and tackling them, I can’t flag him down and stop what’s sure to happen—my mom not taking no for an answer—as a human wall forms between us.

The last thing I see is his head bobbing yes.

Has this been the cringiest hour of my life? Definitely.

I want to say it can’t get much worse, but then I’d be wrong.

Thirty minutes later, my aunts, sister, and cousins have me washed, polished, and styled for Tori’s wedding to my ex.

As they usher me downstairs, they present me like a prize heifer to … Carson, who stands in the foyer, wearing a suit and with a tie in his hand.

I don’t dare make eye contact and risk seeing rejection reflected back to me. Not today, which may very well mark the first anniversary of my many failed relationships.

However, I do glimpse how Carson stands firmly, resolute, and unwavering in his charcoal suit with its crisp tailoring fit over the span of his broad shoulders.

Odette brays a laugh. “I don’t think pumpkin spice is her color after all. She looks washed out.”

At her comment, I feel like a chewed-up piece of pumpkin pie.

Aunt Lesley says, “I think she should’ve worn her hair down.”

Catie fans herself. “Do you see the way he’s looking at her?”

“At the way the dress hugs those curves. Bailey, I told you to try my new diet plan if you ever intend to wear a wedding dress.” Odette frowns with disapproval.

Several others chime in with unsolicited opinions, but a deep voice with a Southern rumble breaks through them all. I lift my gaze to a pair of piercing eyes that drag over me from top to bottom. My knees suddenly feel wobbly, or it could be that water damage made the wood floor uneven.

“I think Bailey looks gorgeous.” Gaze still locked on me, a subtle smile plays at the corners of Carson’s lips .

Aunt Sally did not need to apply the extra blush. Nope. My cheeks are as red as Rainier cherries.

Those simple words draw my focus, turning the rest to static. I don’t know whether to believe him or wonder if I’ve entered another dimension, but the words are out of my mouth before I can stop them. “You look dapper.”

He winks and lifts the tie. “Could you help me with this?”

Stepping into his space, I go into complete power overload when I inhale his masculine scent in such close proximity. My executive functions cease working when our hands brush. Gazing down at me with heavy eyes, he bites his lip. I’m officially dead.