Page 3 of Caught in a Bad Fauxmance
“It’s been a while…” Dad hesitates, slapping his hand down on Old Bob’s shoulder. “My friend.” Nice save.
Old Bob settles back down on his stool behind the front counter. “What brings the Báezes to our neck of the woods?” He stiffens suddenly, eyes narrowing. “You passing through on the way to that new water park across the lake?”
Andy’s eyes light up. “There’s a water park?!”
Old Bob bristles, nodding sternly. “Allegheny Park. Thing’s been taking up most of our usual business. Everyone wants to stay over in Hillsdale these days. Something about a state-of-the-art waterslide.”
That explains the tumbleweeds. The opposite end of the lake, better known as Hillsdale, was usually for the more upscale “round of golf before lunch at the country club” types, but maybe some money-hungry developers decided to cash in on the Lake Andreas crowd and create more budget-friendly options.
Well, at least we won’t have to wait in line at the kayak rental stand…if it’s still around.
“How’s the family been?” Old Bob continues, back in good spirits. “Think I can talk Ximena into letting me sneak a piece of that tres leches cake again this year?”
Without missing a beat, Dad pulls out the shopping list Isabel left on the kitchen counter that morning, handing it to Maya. “Think you guys can handle grabbing everything? We’ve got some catching up to do.”
Maya and I nod, dragging Andy away as Dad turns back to Old Bob. This is the part we’re not supposed to see. The smiles that turn into frowns. TheI’m so sorrys andI had no ideas. A bitter reminder that this town isn’t the only thing that’s changed. I put as much distance as I can between us and the counter, heading toward the far corner of the store. Nothing says happy holidays like avoiding your dad’s practiced spiel about how your mom died.
Once we’re safely hidden between the produce and fish bait aisles, Maya carefully tears the shopping list down the middle, handing me the lengthier half. “Meet you up front in ten?”
Andy and I nod, grabbing a basket from a stack beside the apples before heading to the opposite end of the store. All we’ve managed to grab is ice cream and pasta sauce when we’re brought to a complete halt in the cereal aisle.
“Just pick one already!” I shout after Andy puts back the box he was holding for the hundredth time.
“I’m trying!” He carefully picks up a family-size box of Count Chocula, looking at it longingly before shaking his head and setting it back down. “Do you think we can get two?”
“No.” I hold up our half of the list, pointing to the bright red total Isabel marked at the bottom of the page, and the price tags on the shelves. “Not in the budget.”
“Stupid budget,” Andy grumbles under his breath as he picks the Count Chocula back up.
“I’m going to the next aisle. Meet me when you’re done.”
Andy doesn’t respond, turning his full attention to a box of Honey Nut Cheerios. I should’ve known better than to get between him and sugar. For a seventeen-year-old linebacker, he has the diet of a picky toddler. Grabbing our basket, I head to the next aisle.
Miraculously, there’s another sign of human life. A guy around my age, tall with taut shoulders and a jaw that could cut me in half. He doesn’t strike me as the Lake Andreas type; he’s decked out in designer sneakers and a name-brand hoodie. Not the usual Crocs and Hawaiian shirt crowd. I can’t quite make out his face, but even with what little I can see, there’s no denying that he’s startlingly handsome.
Guys like him don’t exist in places like this. Lake Andreas is for families who want a break from the oppressive Florida humidity but can only afford to go somewhere with a light breeze. Not for hot guys who wear designer sneakers to go grocery shopping. Though a cute new local in town does have a very Hallmark movie ring to it. The charming lumberjack to my jaded big-city businessman. Or maybe I’m the lumberjack in this situation? Idowear a lot of plaid….
One second I’m admiring Hot Guy’s forearm as he reaches for a gallon of milk, and the next I’m tripping over my shoelaces. Story of my life.
The jar in my basket shatters the second I hit the ground,splattering pasta sauce and glass across the floor while the ice cream rolls down the aisle. What’re the odds that Hot Guy didn’t notice any of that?
“Oh my God, are you okay?”
Great.
I gingerly push up onto my elbows before I can embarrass myself any more. No broken bones, but my dignity has seen better days.
Hot Guy delicately navigates around the sea of broken glass, coming to stand beside me. “Are you all right?” he asks again.
His voice is as strangely familiar as the acoustic song blaring through the store’s speakers. I hold a hand over my eyes, squinting to make out his face against the harsh fluorescent lighting. He leans down, his face slowly coming into view. My mouth goes dry as I reach two very important conclusions in a matter of seconds.
One: Hot Guy’s face is as hot as the rest of him.
Two: I know him.
“Devin?” Julian Seo-Cooke chokes out, brows shooting up to his hairline.
Awesome, our awful next-door neighbors are still around.
