She tugs at her shirt, wiggling the gold wordbridesmaid. “We’ll need to change too. Better break the Fish Eufaula shirt back out.”
I groan. Will my parents ever get here with my suitcase?
Ten minutes later, we’re changed and jogging to the public parking lot where Hudson’s truck roasts in the sun. Morgan’s staring at her car and the barely visible blue streaks still marring the driver’s side door. She’s quiet as I slide in behind the wheel and roll down the windows. So much has changed in a day. Is she remembering when I yelled at her, called her a psycho, or ruined her shoes? Not wanting to bring it up, I opt for silence as I guide us out of Carlton Landing.
When we hit Highway 9, we’re both singing along to a 2000s-era country song about small-town life. I’d put it on expecting her to complain, but to my surprise, she started singing. She’s propped her arm on the door, letting the wind race through her fingers.
Mine drum along on my steering wheel. “When I was younger, my parents played this song every time we drove into Carlton Landing. It sort of became our vacation-theme song. I still play it even if I’m by myself.”
She smiles at this. “This is a great song for that.”
When it ends and another one by the same band starts up, I turn it down. “So, what’s our engagement story? I mean, that’s usually the thing people ask, right?”
“Right. Good question. We could go with Ava and Hudson’s engagement story.”
“Do you know how it happened? I think they were at Carlton Landing, but that’s all I know.”
“Oh, it was great.” Her eyes light up. “Ava said Hudson brought her out here to something called Porch Fest for a weekend. It was during my spring break. They stayed with your grandparents’, and they helped him pull it off. The two of them went out on a boat where he asked her. And when they came back in, a romantic dinner was waiting under the stars. Lots of twinkle lights. One of the Porch Fest bands played for them. That’s partly why they wanted to get married here.”
“Good story. And now it’s our story.”
“No, it’stheirstory. The two people we’re pretending to be.” She fiddles with the hem of her new Carlton Landing T-shirt she bought during our lunch break. “Our story is quite different.”
I frown. Yeah, our story is interesting. It started badly, and it keeps getting more and more complicated. We’re about to pretend to be engaged. It doesn’t get much more complicated. But…somehow, it hasn’t been as bad as I thought. At least not when she forgets she’s supposed to hate me. Those are the confusing times. The times I forgetI’mnot open to this setup or a long-distance relationship. I’d do well to remember.
My phone blurts the next set of instructions, and I guide us into downtown Eufaula. I would consider this a small Oklahoma town, but it’s much bigger than Carlton Landing. And much more established, whereas Mema told me Carlton Landing started in 2013. As far as rural Oklahoma goes, it’s an infant.
“Arrived,” my phone speaks as we pull into one of the two parking spots dedicated to Lakeside Jewelers.
We sit, neither of us wanting to move.
She shifts in her seat. “Don’t we look a bit young to be getting married? What if they ask?”
“We can pass for upper college. We’ll say we both just graduated.”
“I guess.” She lets out a slow breath. She’s got freckles across her nose. Cute. “This is so bizarre. Sorry, you got stuck with this. With me.”
I grip the steering wheel and smile. “It’s not so bad. I volunteered, remember? And don’t forget, the happy couple owes us. Big time.” I kill the engine and pocket the keys. “Well, ready—cupcake?”
Her gaze flashes my way. She raises a brow.
“No? Pumpkin?”
“No,” she says, deadpan.
“I’ll think of something awesome.”
She shakes her head and pushes her door open. Yep, she’s trying to hide a smile.
We meet at the front of the truck, and I can’t hide my surprise when she threads her fingers through mine.
A giggle tumbles from her lips. “Starting now, you’ll have to be a better actor.”
Her hand squeezes mine, and I don’t hate it. “Right.”
This day just gets more absurd by the minute.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
