Page 11 of Summer Showdown
"Yes. Public appearances only," she added firmly. "We maintain a professional relationship behind closed doors."
"Absolutely," I nodded. "Just enough to convince Zoe and her blog followers. Maybe attend a few festival events together, be seen around town."
"No excessive public displays of affection," Lark stipulated. "Hand-holding is acceptable if necessary. But nothing..." she searched for the word, "...intimate."
"Understood." I tried not to smile at her businesslike approach. It was like she was drafting a contract. "The mayormentioned a community cookout tonight in the town square. It would be a good place to make our first official appearance."
Lark took a bite of her croissant, considering. "That seems reasonable. What time?"
"I can pick you up at the inn around six?"
"Fine." She brushed a crumb from her lip. "What's your story for people who ask how we met? Beyond the lake incident, I mean."
"We keep it simple. You came to the lake, we got talking, hit it off." I shrugged. "The best lies have elements of truth."
"Fair point." She took another sip of her latte. "And when this is over, I return to Chicago, and you continue with your life here."
Something in her tone caught my attention—a certain finality, as if she was reminding herself as much as me that this was temporary.
"That's the plan," I agreed, ignoring an unexpected twinge of disappointment. Why should I care? She was just passing through, like so many summer visitors to Wintervale. Besides, someone like her—ambitious, city-oriented, probably making more money in a month than I did in a year—wouldn't look twice at someone like me under normal circumstances.
Lark finished her croissant and wiped her fingers delicately on a napkin. "Then I believe we have an agreement, Mr. Foster."
"Wade," I corrected. "If we're supposedly dating, you should probably use my first name."
A hint of a smile touched her lips. "Wade, then."
"And the cookout tonight?"
"I'll be ready at six."
I nodded, watching as she gathered her purse. Despite her closed-off demeanor, there was something about her that made me curious—some vulnerability beneath the polished surface that she kept carefully hidden. I remembered the way her expression had softened when she talked about cats, the genuine smile that had transformed her face.
Two weeks of pretending to date Lark Hayes. It was just business—mutually beneficial and temporary. So why did I have the nagging feeling that I might be getting in over my head?
***
I pulled up to the Evergreen Inn at exactly six o'clock, parking my truck in the circular driveway. The historic Victorian looked picturesque in the early evening light, its gardens in full summer bloom. Through the renovations, Rory and Cass had preserved the building's character while adding modern comforts—the perfect blend of old and new that made it Wintervale's new signature accommodation.
Lark was waiting on the wide front porch, perched on one of the rocking chairs. She stood as I approached. She'd changed from the blue sundress she'd worn earlier into fitted white shorts and a sleeveless peach-colored sweater. Her blonde hair was pulled back, tiny pearl earrings catching the evening light.
"Right on time," she said, descending the porch steps to meet me.
"Wouldn't want to keep you waiting," I replied, opening the passenger door of my truck for her.
She slid in and immediately pulled out her phone, checking something on the screen before tucking it away as I got in the driver's side.
The drive to the town square took less than five minutes. Wintervale wasn't big, and most destinations were withinwalking distance of each other. But I'd thought Lark might appreciate not having to navigate the crowds in whatever shoes she'd chosen, which looked more suited to city sidewalks than our uneven pathways.
"So," I said as we drove, "a few things you should know about tonight. The cookout is a weekly summer tradition—burgers, hot dogs, potluck sides. Very informal. The mayor will be there with Edna, obviously, and probably half the town."
"Including Zoe Blake and her camera?" Lark asked.
"Almost certainly," I confirmed. "Are you ready for that?"
She nodded, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "I've handled hostile depositions and multi-million dollar negotiations. I think I can manage pretending to enjoy your company for an evening."
I laughed. "When you put it like that, how could I possibly be nervous?"
