Page 28 of The Small-Town Seduction Plan

“I should, um, go…” I gesture outside.

“Take these.” Tessa shoves a plate of dinner rolls into my hands. I give her a look. “They can’t hurt!”

I venture outside. The Sandpiper has a pretty backyard area, with picnic tables and lawn games for guests. I find Duke tending to meat on the grill, poking authoritatively at the coals in that whole “man make fire” way they like to do. At least he’s clothed today, wearing another one of those flannel shirts with a pair of jeans that hang perfectly off his ass.

Not that I’m looking.

Not at all.

“So…” I begin, snapping my eyes up. Way up. “Have you?—”

“—been swamped with calls from everyone I’ve ever met?” Duke finishes for me. He doesn’t look over, just stabs at the grill with his jaw set. “Yup. My mom, in particular, wanted to know what was going on. My old pastor, too. And Mrs Caruana. She taught me in third grade,” he adds. “You can imagine that was a fun conversation.”

“I am so, so sorry,” I tell him, wincing. “Really. You were only trying to help me! This isn’t your mess.”

“No, it’s not.” Duke finally turns to look at me. His eyes rake over me from head to toe, and suddenly, I feel way overdressed in my matching linen set. “I don’t give a damn about all this tabloid bullshit or social media clicks. You’re the one who needs to stay in the spotlight. Well, congratulations,” he adds. “You’re definitely back there again.”

I blink.

“Wait a minute…” I say, gaping at him in disbelief. “Are you saying…? Do you think I staged that?”

He gives me a look. “It’s a mighty big coincidence, don’t you think? A photographer just happens to show up in the middle of nowhere, when you’ve insisted you just got bit by a snake?—”

“Because I did!” I exclaim. “Or do you think I planned that, too? And somehow telepathically manipulated you into whipping out a knife and cutting my leg open?”

“Everybody knows that’s what you do for a snakebite,” Duke replies, looking scornful.

“Well, clearly I’m not the all-powerful, mind-control bitch goddess you think I am, because I didn’t!” I yell back at him furiously, just as Suze comes out of the house with her arms full of food, and a tall, dark-haired woman in tow.

“Avery,” she says brightly, in a tone of voice that says yes, they absolutely just heard us bickering. “So great to see you again. Have you met my wife, Lori?”

I bite back the insults I was just about to hurl at Duke. My heart is pounding, and I realize that my hands are curled in fists at my sides.

I catch my breath. “Lori, hi! Lovely to meet you!” I give them both a big, friendly smile, fighting to control my emotions. “Is that potato salad you’ve got there? Let me help you with that. Mmm, it looks delicious!”

The rest of the group joins us, and soon we’re all sitting around a table, passing delicious platters of grilled veggies and classic hotdog fixings. There’s a steady stream of laughter and conversation, and despite Duke glowering at me from across the table, I’m actually having fun.

Besides, the bigger my smile gets, the more that grumpy asshole glowers. Call me petty, but that’s a win-win all around.

“… but now, I’m getting concerned calls from parents, and I don’t know what to tell them,” Suze is describing her theater camp woes, as we all dig into the spread. “It’s Shakespeare! Of course there’s going to be sex, drugs, and violence. Does he even have any G-rated plays?”

“What’s the one on that island?” Quinn asks, “The Tempest!”

I shake my head. “Magical mind-control.”

I shoot a look at Duke, reminded of his ridiculous accusations. He pointedly ignores me, tearing into a burger instead.

“A Midsummer’s Night Dream?” Artie offers. “Isn’t that about woodland sprites?”

Suze and I burst out laughing. “Nymphs,” she says. “And nympho is the right word.”

“They all get high, and try to have sex with each other,” I agree. “Trust me, Romeo and Juliet is the safest choice around. At least nobody gets hacked up, baked into a pie, and eaten.”

Everybody pauses and looks at the pie in the middle of the table.

“It’s just rhubarb cranberry!” Lori insists, and we all laugh.

“There was a photographer hanging out at the bakery when I was there,” she adds. “He asked directions to your place, Duke, so I sent him halfway to Provincetown instead.”

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