Page 34 of Skating and Fake Dating
Fingers trembling ever so slightly, I make the knot and smooth the silky tie down his chest. His right hand catches my left and he looks at the top of it before looping his fingers around my wrist. A surge rushes through me because if I’m not mistaken, he was glancing at my very bare ring finger.
“Good to know you have a lockpick in the family.”
Silly me, of course, I was mistaken. Carson is Southern and has good manners. He’s just playing along because it would be rude to decline an invitation to a wedding. Right?
Everyone takes separate cars over to the chapel with Carson and me in the rental Jeep, but when we reach the turnoff, I tell Carson to keep going straight.
“Is this a shortcut?”
“A long cut,” I murmur.
“Are you still trying to avoid the wedding?”
Fidgeting, I answer, “No. Maybe. Probably.”
“Don’t you think it’ll be worse if you don’t show up?” He peers at me out of the corner of his eye.
Taking a deep breath, I nod. He’s right. “I just figured I’d continue your tour. Pull over up here.”
Exhausted from travel, but dressed in wedding attire, we get out at the town’s lookout point with the valley spreading below, surrounded by gently rolling hills.
I whisper, “Rumor has it, guys would take their prom dates up here.”
“Is that so? Tell me what kind of things you did with your prom date,” he teases.
“I didn’t go.”
“Were you sick?”
“No, I didn’t have a date. Figured it would be too embarrassing to go alone. At least, that’s what Odette said.”
“Maybe listen to her less.” Carson’s voice comes out sharp.
“Easier said than done. We’re twelve months apart and she’s always been a—” I make a little beak with my fingers and poke at the air.
“Thorn in your side?”
“I was going to say a worm in my ear.”
He wrinkles his nose and we both turn to face the vista.
“I always loved it here. Never wanted to leave, but then my dream of maple butter success—” I make a popping sound with my lips.
“I thought that was your hobby.”
“It got put in the hobby category when I couldn’t sell enough to make ends meet.”
Tucking his head back, he turns to face me. “So you gave up.”
“When you put it that way … I wanted to defy the odds and do things my way to be successful. Hashtag fail.”
“That led you to me, I mean, your current job, but do you miss it here?”
I trip over his comment about being led to him before I can answer his question. “Definitely. As intense as my family can be, I do miss it, the connections mostly.”
“I get it. I only return to Alabama a few times a year. My mom isn’t one to travel—afraid of airplanes.”
“The risk is real. You never know who you might get locked in a bathroom with.”
