Page 29 of Fake Engaged to the Enemy

So the kiss remains short. I long for more once we step back from each other.

I wave Catherine off and go back to the house.

Back inside, Dad settles himself in front of the TV. “That Catherine is quite a girl.”

“I agree,” Mom gushes. “Such a lovely young woman! I’m sure all this business in the tabloids is just a misunderstanding.”

“I’m glad you think so,” I say.

I grin, pleased with the evening. Success is ours!

Chapter eight

Catherine

The morning after the dinner with George’s parents, I wake up nice and early.

It’s perfectly natural for me. I’ve always been an early bird. I don’t enjoy sleeping in, except when I’m sick.

Today, the dim grey of dawn is still hanging in the sky. I lie in bed, staring out of my window. The pale blue curtains waft in the sea salt breeze.

It’s times like this that I forget why I don’t like Sandburrow.

It’s just so relaxing, lying here while the birds start to wake up outside. The sound of the ocean is a constant lull in the background.

I understand why Grandma loves this place so much.

Unfortunately, it doesn’t take me long to get restless.

I get up and go make a pot of coffee only to find that we’re out of creamer. Grandma gets up shortly after and she sighs.

“I suppose I need to go into town and get some groceries. But I was hoping to get my tomato plants staked up,” she groans.

“I’ll do your tomato plants for you,” I volunteer.

Grandma pats my hand. “That’s nice of you, dear. But I’d rather do it myself. Why don’t you go into town?”

I nod my agreement. This is probably better for both of us.

After I go through all the cupboards and freezers—Grandma has three, one that works and two that she uses as storage—I’ve made a menu plan for the week and a list of the groceries I need.

And a new project. I’ll have to find a way to start getting rid of the boxes of cereal in Grandma’s food storage that were outdated five years ago.

I’ll have to recruit George to help me with that. Grandma lived through the Great Depression and grew up in poverty.

It’s only natural that she hoards food now.

That also makes it more difficult to convince her that she doesn’t need so much, though.

Sandburrow is a cute little town, I’ll give it that. So many old brick buildings that give it real character. The more modern buildings are all brightly colored.

Unfortunately, I don’t have much time to enjoy the aesthetics of the town.

“Catherine Hart, is that you?” a blonde-haired soccer mom squeals as she hugs me.

It takes me a moment to place her. Jessica Johnson. She was a friend I had for a few months in high school.

“How are you doing?” Jessica asks. “Oh, silly me. I’ve seen your picture all over the internet. What are you doing here? Did you bring Crimson to visit your grandmother?”

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