Page 16 of Fake Engaged to the Enemy

“Maybe. First, I think you should meet them again now that we’re both adults. We could have dinner together,” he suggests. “They’ll never forgive me if I let anyone else find out that we’re engaged before they do.”

My stomach knots.

Meeting the parents, huh?

I remember Edwina and Jason Callahan. In my memories, Jason has a booming voice that sounds hoarse from shouting even when he’s telling jokes. And Edwina is telling me that I shouldn’t act like such a hooligan.

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” I say quickly. “I forgot that your parents are… your parents.”

A crease forms on George’s brow. “What do you mean by that?”

“I mean I’d like to have some time to talk to them again in a more informal setting. Besides, I should have an engagement ring first.”

“Are you scared of my parents?” George asks. “I thought you said you could handle them.”

My cheeks grow warm. “Icanhandle them! I just want a bit more time for us to figure out this engagement story. Also, if I’m going to act like a buffer between you and your parents, I should get a read on them first.”

“Good point.” George runs a hand through his hair.

The sunlight highlights his freckles.

“I think I have an old ring that I picked up off the beach when we were kids,” he says. “Let’s use that as an engagement ring.”

“Um, no?” I fold my arms, narrowing my eyes at him. “I’m going to have a titanium band with a lab-grown starburst diamond, with two smaller sapphires on either side. And inside is an inscription. Let’s go with ‘forever strong’ or some such thing.”

George laughs. “Oh, I see! You’ve got it all planned out, don’t you? You’re just after my money.”

I can’t help it.

I scoff.

The idea that I’d be after George’s money is ridiculous. Not only have I built myself a successful career, but he’s stayed in Sandburrow of all places!

George frowns at me. “What’s that about?”

“Nothing!” I say quickly.

“Nothing,” he repeats. His frown deepens. “I see. Well, you can’t go around laughing at the townspeople who tell you about how well I’ve done for myself. So here.”’

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a battered business card.

I take it and glance over it, then freeze.

“You can look me up on your own time,” he says as he stands.

But he doesn’t have to.

“You own Call a Hand?” I yelp, stumbling to my feet. I trip over myself, and George grabs my wrist, stabilizing me.

“Whoa! And yes, I do. You’ve heard it?”

I stare at George, shock rippling through me. “Heard of it? You built Crimson’s house! You built… so many houses!”

“Not me personally,” George answers. His eyes are twinkling again.

That’s the great thing about him. Even after insulting him, he’s easy-going about everything.

“Holy cow,” I breathe, stuffing his business card into my pocket. “I guess this seals it, huh?”

---