Page 62 of Faking I Do
“Yeah, that was nothing though compared to what poor Lacey went through as a teen.” I picked up a plate and forked a nice piece of juicy brisket. “Did she tell you about her IBS issues? I’m surprised she made brisket tonight.” I held a hand up to my mouth like I was about to share a big secret. “Gives her horrible runs, red meat always has.”
“Oh.” Samantha glanced at her plate of half-eaten brisket.
“Crazy what true love will make you do, isn’t it?” Lacey asked. “I know how much he loves it so even though I can’t enjoy it like I used to, I still want him to be able to experience it.”
“That’s such a great story,” Samantha said.
Yes, it was. I would have to up the ante if I wanted to cast Lacey in a bad light. Before I had a chance to come up with something equal parts ridiculous and embarrassing, Samantha tapped her pen to her lip.
“I notice you’re not wearing a ring. Did he give you one? I’m sure our readers will want to know how he popped the question.”
Lacey glanced down at her ring finger. “Of course he gave me a ring. I was just out working with the horses today so I didn’t want to risk losing it. I’ll make sure to wear it next time you come to town.”
Next time? My heart stuttered to a stop. What exactly had I committed to? Temporarily distracted from my goal of throwing Lacey under the bus, I cleared my throat. “When exactly is the next time?”
Lacey twined her fingers with mine and rested our joined hands on the counter. “We’re going to be featured in the magazine. Samantha is going to want to follow our journey from proposal to happily ever after.”
“That’s right. So tell me, how did you propose?”
I glanced to Lacey. “You sure do tell it better, honey pie.”
Her eyelashes fluttered. “Well, if you insist . . .”
I insisted, all right. What fictional tale would Lacey feed to the reporter? I sat down on a barstool and picked up my fork. It would be a shame to let all of that home-cooked brisket go to waste.
“He’s always been so romantic,” Lacey started. “In fact, he used to write me love poems while we were growing up but was too shy to give them to me.”
I almost choked on a piece of brisket. Love poems? The only poem I’d ever memorized was my dad’s version of grace: Good bread, good meat, good Lord, let’s eat.
“How sweet. Do you remember any of them off the top of your head?” Samantha glanced to me.
I shoved a bite of beans in my mouth and shook my head.
“He’s too embarrassed to say.” Lacey leaned over and squeezed my shoulder. “How did that one go? Grass is green, sunflowers are yellow, I wish so bad that I was your fellow?”
I sucked in a breath, sending the bite of beans down the wrong pipe. Coughing, I tried to catch my breath.
“Are you okay, angel love?” Lacey’s mock concern made me want to abandon the project right then and there. If I had to put up with crap like this until May I’d rather risk facing the town. She handed me my water and I took a nice, slow sip.
“Sorry, I wasn’t expecting you to share something so personal.” The way I glared at her should have shut her down. Should have turned her knees the consistency of my grandma’s rhubarb jelly.
But instead she tapped me on the shoulder and leaned toward Samantha. “What did I say? He’s so sensitive.”
“And the proposal?”
“It was incredibly romantic.” Lacey smiled as she dipped her head. “All day he kept leaving me little poems. I won’t repeat any of the others since they’re so personal.” She glanced at me, one side of her mouth quirking into a smirk. “But we had dinner plans that night so I figured it was just a lead-up to our date. He picked me up that afternoon and we drove to Houston. Nice restaurant, gorgeous view of the city. Then the waiter brought a special dessert to the table next to ours.”
I wondered where she was going with the storyline. But I waited, ready to intervene if necessary.
“The gal squealed because there was a diamond ring sitting on top of her flan. Just resting there. Poor Bodie kept craning his neck, and I wondered why in the world he was so interested in their dessert. I mean, the man does love his flan, but it was ridiculous. And then he gets up from the table and walks over there and I almost died. He stuck his finger in the flan and grabbed the ring.”
“No.” Samantha gasped.
I could see where she was going with this so I decided to ad-lib a bit. “It was my ring. The waiter took it to the wrong table. Like hell some other guy was going to get credit for my proposal.”
“Not to mention that two-carat yellow diamond.” Lacey laughed as she skimmed her hand over my arm. “That poor woman was so sad. The other couple left the restaurant with her in tears.”
“After you stomped on her foot,” I added. Lacey squeezed my arm. “She really thought the schmuck she was with was proposing. She told everyone they’d been dating for seven years. So she tried to take the ring back from me.”
