Page 23 of Fake Engaged to the Enemy

“Have you? You can’t fake-engagement without kissing at least once,” she warns. “And passionately. If you want to trick the town, you two need to be wrapped around each other like worms on a fishhook.”

“Ugh!” I grab a pillow and pull it over my face. “You don’t have to be so graphic. I’m not wrapping around anything. Besides, you are supposed to see us as your grandkids. You’re meant to be weirded out by the idea of us kissing.”

Grandma continues to chuckle. “That’s not how this works, Catherine. So. Have you two practiced kissing?”

“No!”

“You should. Especially before you have to have dinner with the Callahan’s.”

I drop the pillow and jump to my feet. “This conversation is over. I’m going out to the tide pools.”

“Take some water with you,” Grandma says, still chuckling.

With a groan, I drag myself upstairs. I pull on a bathing suit, then a white lacy cover-up. Paired with a wide-brimmed hat and a drawstring bag I fill with water, sunscreen, and a notebook, I head out.

The day is hot. Even though it’s not far to the tide pools, I’m sweating by the time I get there.

I put my things near the base of the largest one and wade knee-deep into the ocean. The contrast between the water and the air quickly cools me down.

After slathering on the sunscreen, I find a place in the rocky outcropping where the rock is flat and gives me a backrest.

There, I start making lists in my notebook. They’re not about anything in particular. A list of things I can see, a list of things I want to accomplish, a list of possibilities

The repetitive nature of writing calms me.

When I’ve moved to a list of all the jobs I can think of—from grocery cashier to CEO—George calls out to me.

I look up to find him walking over the golden sand. He’s wearing knee-length blue shorts and a white button-down with geometric designs on the sleeves and down the front. Sunglasses shield his eyes but his hair ruffles in the breeze.

He looks like a dream.

And that annoys me.

“Lynn told me to bring you some water,” he says as he draws near. He offers me an insulated thermos.

I point to my bag. “I brought a bunch.”

“Ah. Well.” George opens the thermos and takes a swallow. “You’re not planning on swimming out here by yourself, are you?”’

“Nope. Just wading a little bit.”

George sucks on his teeth. “Lynn’s rubbing off on me. Right now I’m fighting the urge to warn you about the dangers of swimming alone.”

My lips press together. “I just told you I’m not doing that.”

“Hence the whole Lynn rubbing off on me thing. She’s constantly telling me to be careful about riptides and the like.” George leans against the rocks, gazing in at the tidal pools.

I can’t write my lists while he’s here, so I close the notebook.

After some time, George clears his throat. “I want to introduce you to my parents as my fiancée. If we’re playing this to help with the Crimson rumors, we need to launch our relationship sooner rather than later. But we need to tell my parents first.”

“Right. About that.”

George looks back at me. His expression is open and clear. “Have you changed your mind?”

“About our fake engagement?” My mind flips to Grandma’s question about kissing. Hopefully, George will think the redness in my cheeks is because of the heat. “No. I don’t have any better ideas at this point.”

“Is there a problem, then?” he asks, his brow furrowed.

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