Page 84 of Second Down Fake

I stilled. “Oh, they’re not keeping any of my secrets, are they?”

“I think they’re getting you back for not bringing any of your more famous girlfriends to meet them.”

“Please,” I rolled my eyes. “You’re practically a celebrity around here. Right next to Maddie, who got a small following while she was rushing for a sorority.”

“Oh, a sorority! Well, how can I compete with that? You sure you don’t want to ditch me for her?”

I tipped her head up, brushing a kiss over her nose. “Not a chance. You sure you want me to take you night fishing?”

The infectious grin slid back onto her face, and she nodded.

“Then I guess we’re going night fishing.”

TWENTY-EIGHT

CASSANDRA

Never take liquor from a guy named after an animal.

I woke up the next afternoon, head foggy and relieved I’d ended up in Diego’s bed and not curled up by the bonfire. Thankfully, Marla had a pot of coffee on standby, even as she cooked dinner.

I poured a cup and got corralled into helping Marla with the meal. She elbowed Paul out of the way to make room for me, still convinced that she could turn me into a chef despite a lifetime of box macaroni and ramen noodles.

And despite my distinct lack of culinary skills, I couldn’t help but gravitate to Marla. Blonde hair, blue-eyed, and barely five feet tall, Diego had inherited little from his mother physically. Instead, he’d gotten her natural charisma and undeniable charm. Her open smile and warm eyes. She’d clucked over me like a momma hen, making me feel safe and warm and adored. I loved her immediately.

By the time we served dinner, I felt more human. Not great, but not hungover. The piles of food on the table didn’t hurt matters. Fried meat, potatoes, and battered vegetables. I poured myself a second cup of coffee and piled my plate high.

“What are you two up to tonight?” Marla asked as she sipped her red wine.

“Night fishing,” Diego answered breezily between bites.

Paul set down his fork, head tilted. “I didn’t know you fished.”

“Of course I fish,” Diego said.

“Really? I’ve never seen your fishing rods or your tackle box. And your mom keeps all your stuff.”

“Garage,” Diego answered, shoveling a bite of steak into his mouth.

“I cleaned out the garage last summer. I hope I didn’t throw them away by accident.” Paul’s bushy eyebrows furrowed.

“He’s not taking her fishing, Paul,” Marla said with an exasperated sigh. “You remember when the sheriff caught him and Mary Grace out at the lake? That’s what he calls night fishing.”

“Really, mom?”

“Don’t ‘really’ me, Diego. You didn’t have to face her parents at church that Sunday.” Marla set down her wine glass with a faint smile.

Diego shifted in his seat uncomfortably.

His friends had been all too happy to spill how teenage Diego had taken his dates on a long drive on a secluded stretch of country roads to a rarely used fishing lake out in the middle of nowhere. Conveniently, Diego nearly always forgot his fishing gear, but remembered to throw a couple of sleeping bags and a blow up mattress in the back of his truck.

I faked shock. “Wait, we’re not going fishing?”

Marla sighed. “Please tell me you weren’t about to take Cassandra to your make out spot without telling her.”

“Make out spot? I thought we were going fishing.” Diego caught the grin on my face, but I wiped it off before Paul’s wide eyes turned on me and then back to Diego.

“Diego! Really?” Paul tsked.

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