Page 24 of Chasing Forever
“Getting your hubby’s favorite. I love it.”
“It’s called putting him in a sugar coma, so he agrees to my demands.”
She laughs. “You could tie him up and dangle the doughnut in front of him. Tell him to agree or he doesn’t get it.”
I point at her. “I like the way you think.”
She shrugs and unzips her sweatshirt, revealing a matching sports bra. If I ever exercised, it’d be in mismatched shades of cotton, not this Instagram-worthy activewear of my cousin’s. “I visualize ways to torment Walker Matthews should I ever decide he’s taken the rivalry too far.”
“I swear you’re going to marry that man one day.”
She steps forward as though she’s going to tackle me. “Take that back.”
I laugh and jump off the porch, not gracefully, nearly rolling my ankle in the process.
She laughs at my clumsiness. “Good luck. I’m thinking you’ve got a stubborn one there.”
I lift my hand because she’s right. Brooks isn’t going to take this easily. That I know.
I stop downtown at the Donut Hut to get ten Boston creams, a bear claw, and a regular old glazed. See? Brooks Watson doesn’t know everything about me. I like glazed doughnuts too. Take that, Brooks.
Naïve me hoped maybe that picture hadn’t spread yet, but the minute I walk into the Donut Hut, every set of eyes swings to me as though I’m the main attraction. Great. Exactly the circus I was dreading. An itchy sensation crawls over my skin. Best to tackle this head-on as though it doesn’t matter.
I raise my hand. “Hello, yes, it’s me, Lottie Owens, and before you ask, I did marry our big ol’ sheriff this weekend in Vegas. I’m not really open for questions at the moment, just here to get some doughnuts.”
I toss the information out like bird seed, hoping it will give them enough to chew on so I can get my doughnuts and get the hell out of here. But it doesn’t stop the whispers.
“Congratulations.” Mindy comes around the counter with a box. “My mom and dad made it for you guys. Usually, Sheriff Watson would’ve already popped by, and they thought…” She blushes. “You know. That he’d be picking up for the both of you.”
I open the lid of the box and sure enough—there’s a baker’s dozen: eight Boston creams, two bear claws, two glazed, and one heart-shaped doughnut with pink frosting with Mr. and Mrs. scrawled in icing smack dab in the middle. I close my eyes for half a second, breathing in the sugary scent and the overwhelming realization that this town truly thinks this marriage is the real deal.
“You got a good one there,” Mrs. Schmidt calls.
I smile back politely like my mom taught me. “Thanks, Mindy. And please tell your parents thank you.”
“He’s the best. Anything for you two.” Mindy leans closer. “Last year after I got my license, he gave me a warning when I was going too fast out on Route Twelve.”
“Nice of him.” I manage to keep the smile on my face and turn to head for the door.
“My tire blew out during that torrential rainstorm last year. He stayed, let me sit in his squad car, and fixed it himself. Even offered me his coffee,” Mrs. Winslow chimes in, clearly eavesdropping.
“I got stuck in a ditch during that same storm. He gave me his dinner.” Mr. Patel smiles widely.
Okay, okay, I get it. He’s Willowbrook’s personal superhero.
“And with that last name, you can’t go wrong,” Mrs. Bendle adds, eyeing me as though I just won the town lottery.
A hand lands on my arm as I’m almost out the door.
“Sometimes you have to think someone’s looking out for you.” Mrs. Parker stares long and hard into my eyes, her meaning crystal clear. “This time, you picked the right Watson.”
“Okay, gotta go. Thank you, everyone. Have a great Sunday.” I push through the door, desperate for the bell to announce my escape.
Once I’m safely back in my car, I place the doughnuts on the passenger seat and drop my head back against the headrest.
What was I thinking coming here?
After I’ve gathered myself, I start my car and pull out of downtown, noticing that the Vote Mayor Watson signs have doubled since we left for Vegas. Of course they have.
