Page 22 of Skating and Fake Dating (Love in Maple Falls #4)

CARSON

I pop into the market for some non-vending machine snacks and recognize Bailey’s grandmother in the dairy aisle.

“Carson,” the older woman calls.

“Hi, Mrs. Porter. How are you today?”

“Better now that I ran into a tall man who can get that cup of yogurt up there. I was talking myself into climbing onto the bottom shelf and hoping I could reach it.”

I chuckle and pass her the little container.

She tells me her doctor recommended substituting protein for her afternoon sweet snack. “I see you’ve been keeping my Bailey busy. She hasn’t had a chance to pop in for a visit.”

For some reason, I wish that were the case and hold up my empty hands. “Getting a new team started and players adjusted is a big job.”

Bailey has also been assigned PAL to Asher, a last-minute pick for the team. He’s staying at the SkyBnB too, so it’s kind of like having a brother from another mother. The place has four bedrooms and as many bathrooms. Plus, the dude cooks and I like to eat. It’s the start of a true bromance.

“I bet she does it well and it doesn’t hurt to have a little smoochy smoochy on the side.” Nanna winks as her granddaughter approaches.

My ears warm.

Bailey’s arms are full of healthy snack options and a wide-eyed smile. “Smoochy what? Wait. Never mind. Hi, Carson. What are you?—?”

“I was just telling him to come over this afternoon if he’s not busy.

You should show him the operation—we could use the help of a tall, strong man ahead of the Maple Fest. I lost Bailey to the big city, but I have a feeling she’s going to be back someday.

The maple trees and her ole grandmother miss her. ”

The contents of Bailey’s arms tumble into the grocery cart as we all laugh lightly.

“I’ll make you two a treat and then you check the lines, the taps, and pick some apples before coming back to the kitchen.”

“Nanna, I’m sure Carson has a lot to do today.”

“Actually, I’m free,” I blurt.

“See you soon.” The older woman waves and carries on down the aisle.

Bailey leans in and says, “But, don’t you want to pick out some things for your new place—you move in this weekend—or play your guitar or hockey? I’m sure you have hockey.”

“My schedule is clear. We have the afternoon off for portraits and capturing some social media content with Clara.”

“She and I go way back.”

“Is there anyone in Maple Falls you don’t know?”

Her cheek lifts with a grin. “Probably not.”

“I already had pictures done. Plus, I have a certain craving I just can’t seem to kick. Maybe I should go to the source and see how operations are going.”

Bailey laughs. “You probably don’t want to miss team stuff, but Nanna will likely give us a protein-rich snack, which is why we’re here at the market, but I can ask her to make pancakes. But no kidding, Shirley May’s are the best.”

“I’m talking about the maple syrup, Bailey. ”

“Oh.” She blinks a few times as if not expecting me to be interested in one of her hobbies … or addicted to it. It’s true. I have not stopped thinking about it or her all week.

“Also, I have a question for you.” I peer around but figure it’s best not to ask her to be my fake date here.

She leans in, expectant.

“Top secret. I’ll ask you later.”

She fidgets as if telling herself to be patient. “All right. I’ll text you the address and see you in an hour.”

“I’ll be there.” I stash my purchases at the rental house, give Asher a high five as I hurry back out the door, and drive toward the hills, winding my way out of town.

The clusters of houses give way to pasture land, scattered with trees that fill in with thick forests occupied by cedars, spruce, and other conifers.

The landscape is altogether different from Alabama, but the clear sky and easy-to-breathe air remind me of when I’d visit my grandparents out in the country for the summer.

Wearing a thin vest over a sweater and comfortably worn in, fitted jeans, Bailey greets me on the wide front porch of a well-lived-in farmhouse.

There’s something about her posture and relaxed smile that suggests this place is more of a home to her than her parents’ colonial with the columns and red front door.

The scent of something freshly baked mingles with her vanilla and maple syrup scent. A border collie sniffs me and then wanders off. Inside, a hound dog naps by the hearth as thunder rumbles.

My mistake, the sound was caused by a massive black and tan beast barreling in my direction. I’m not afraid of dogs, but this animal is nearly my size—if I were to drop on all fours.

“Tiny,” Bailey says in a tone that is both authoritative and loving at the same time.

The Great Dane halts, her tongue drops out of her mouth, and she stares expectantly.

Bailey strokes the dog’s head and says, “How do we greet visitors? ”

The dog makes a whining sound and then plops to her haunches.

“Okay. Say hello.” Bailey snaps her fingers.

Tiny lifts her paw in a half-wave, half-shake motion.

Taking my wrist, Bailey says, “You can shake hands.”

Crouching, I do, and the dog meets my eyes with a strange kind of awareness as if she approves of me being here.

I want to be amused, but I’m also keenly aware that dogs are much smarter than we give them credit for.

I always wanted one, but Mom said I could visit Gran and Grandaddy whenever I wanted because they had a Pyrenees, which amounted to holidays and summer visits.

“She’s a gentle giant … and my best friend.” Bailey throws her arms around the dog, who is, in fact, not at all tiny.

Nanna cuts up a fresh batch of blondies and gives Tiny a chew toy. We sit down at the table and I say, “Well, what do we have here, Blondie?”

“Blondies,” Nanna says as if that weren’t obvious.

Bailey squishes up her face. “Yeah. We don’t need to rehash that mortifying moment.”

Nanna’s eyebrow arches as she pours us each a small glass of milk.

I say, “Was it mortifying? I thought it was adorable.”

“Which is why you laughed me out of the room?”

“I didn’t—” I clamp my mouth shut at the sadness in Bailey’s hazel eyes. Tiny gets to her feet and rests her giant muzzle on Bailey’s shoulder. She leans into the dog and they share a moment.

As if wanting to redirect the conversation, Nanna says, “So, you’re the one who got my Bailey smiling again. Tell me how you met.”

Or not. I take it she didn’t buy the story we fumbled and then coaxed into something like a meet-cute when her sister had asked.

I point at the tray. “Officially, we met over a version of these. ”

Nanna lights up. “Bailey is an exceptional baker.”

We look at her and then each other, and the innocence of the comment makes us both break into laughter.

When Bailey catches her breath, she tucks her hair behind her ear.

“And I’m exceptionally clumsy. Since I was late on my first day working at the Ice Palace in Cobbiton, I wanted to make a better impression—and apologize—on my second day.

I was nervous, so I baked, you guessed it, Nanna’s famous blondies.

They’re my favorite. I thought it would be cute to make them special, so I cut them up, added blue buttercream frosting, red and white heart sprinkles—Knights colors—a drizzle of maple butter, and,” she eyes the dog and gives her a good scratch, “B-A-C-O-N bits. The team nutritionist was not pleased with me, chewed me out, and then I stumbled. The blondies, each nestled in their own baking cups, went flying.”

“I caught one and you,” I interject.

Bailey frowns, likely at the memory of her ruined shirt.

“It was delicious.”

“You ate it?”

“I’d been in a bit of a rebellious stage,” I admit.

Nanna leans in, intrigued.

“Then you started calling me Blondie.”

The older woman’s shoulders bounce. “So it was a workplace romance. I’m fond of those.”

“More like a hate-to-love situation,” Bailey corrects.

My brows knit and she must recognize my confusion.

“Nanna is part of an online book club. They read a book with a different trope each month. There are friends to lovers, second chances, and others.”

Nanna adds, “Right now we’re halfway through a fake relationship romcom. The main character needed a date to her sister’s wedding.”

I’m pretty sure Bailey and I both swallow hard at the same time. My ears feel as warm as her cheeks look .

Hopping to her feet, she says, “Well, we’d better head to the grove before it gets too late.”

Tiny is already at the door, waiting.

“Actually, I wanted to ask Carson about hockey. I hear practice has been going well.”

Not wanting to be rude and glad for the change of topic, I say, “Certainly has. All the players are strong in their own ways and I think it’ll be a great season.”

“Nanna, you’ll be able to see them all over social media. Remember Clara? She’s the social media manager and is going to be showcasing them regularly.”

“Performing goofy dances,” I mutter.

“You can trust Clara. She knows what she’s doing.” Bailey winks, then linking my arm with hers, she says, “Come on. Tiny is waiting.”

Outside, I take a breath of the crisp fall air.

Leaves drop from their branches, twirling on the breeze that carries the scent of woodsmoke.

Silver-tinted sunlight filters from above, painting dappled gold patterns on the path ahead while the satisfying crunch of leaves beneath my boots provides nature’s perfect soundtrack to the day.

I say, “It’s beautiful here.”

“It’s home. If only I could get my business to support it.” She shakes her head sadly. “Developers have been on Nanna about the land for years.”

“What do you mean by your business?”

“My dream side hustle. ‘Sweet Memories Maple Company.’ I figured that was more appealing than ‘Hot Mess Maple’ or ‘Sticky Situations,’ which we seem to repeatedly find ourselves in.” She glances over her shoulder toward the way we came.

“I’m sorry about that. I should’ve come clean. Told Nanna that we’re?—”

“We didn’t lie.”

“But we’re not?—”

“Actually, I have the Ice Breakers inaugural bash coming up and I’m wondering if you’d like to join me.”

“Oh, right. Your agent wanted you to date someone “stable” to improve your image. Having spent some time together, surely you see I’m not the best candidate for the job.”

“You’re the only one.”

“Haha. This town isn’t that small. My cousins would cage fight each other for a chance to go somewhere with you.”

“I want to take you to the Ice Breakers inaugural bash, Bailey.” When she remains quiet, walking alongside me, I add, “Just think about it.”

Tiny races past with a stick, which to any other dog would be a log, and Bailey takes off after her. I chase them until we arrive at a clearing. Under an umbrella of golden leaves, she glows and my heart taps out a particular beat at her pure beauty that I can’t deny or ignore.

She tips her chin to the sky and looks up. Peace settles over her features and she looks more at ease than I’ve ever seen her.

Tiny sits down by her side.

“I used to come here with my Pappa all the time because it was so quiet.”

“You’re from a small town. It’s pretty quiet here in general.”

“Not in my house.” She crouches down and hugs Tiny. “He offered my siblings and my cousins the opportunity to learn how to collect and make syrup, but they were interested in bigger, shinier things—at least that’s what he said.”

“You were the only one who’d come out here with him.”

“I thought I could turn the hobby into a livelihood. I’ve let him down. Ended up chasing the bigger, shinier things myself.”

I crouch down next to her and the dog, who proceeds to give me a big lick across my cheek—Tiny, not Bailey.

“She likes you.”

I do too. The dog, sure, but this time I mean Bailey. I like her a lot. More than I should. More than is wise.

Tiny rises to her feet and takes off running again .

Bailey says, “She remembers the routine. After we come here, we go to the orchard. Want to check it out?”

I stand up and extend my hand for her to get to her feet. “Fresh-picked apples? Those are definitely on the nutrition plan.”

We continue walking and the sky opens up with hardly a cloud above. We wander through rows of apple trees with Tiny catching scents and occasionally looking back to make sure we’re following.

Veering off the main path, Bailey stops in front of a tree. I glimpse the letters T + T etched into the bark with a heart around them. Her shoulders wilt likely because they belong to her cousin and ex. But there are a few others, including V+C . Not sure who that is, but it gives me an idea.

Bailey continues along the grassy path. “We need to find the perfect prize apple of the day. It needs to be firm but not under ripe, sweet but with a bit of tartness. The best ones are always hiding.”

She pauses in front of another tree and looks back at me as I take out my pocket knife and carve B + C into the wood and then draw a heart around it.

She searches my eyes. “Why’d you do that?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Carson, should we talk about the fake dating arrangement?”

I brush away the wood shavings, revealing our initials.

Bailey says, “Remember, we made our rules?”

“That was all hypothetical.”

“What is it now?”

My voice is a husky whisper when I say, “I’m not sure.”

She draws a deep breath and boosts herself into a nearby tree as if bookmarking the conversation until there’s a better answer to that question.