Page 59 of The Fangirl and the Grump

Once we have our drinks, I turn as Keegan points out a table in the back corner. As we head over, I see the stiffness in her gait. I know I’m tense, too, but I’m determined to ignore everyone else and just have some fun with my girl.

“I feel like a bug under a microscope,” she hisses as I pull her chair out for her. “Do I have something on my face?”

“No, of course not,” I say as I take my seat with a sigh. “It’s not you, it’s me.”

“I’ve heard that one before,” she says with a healthy dose of sarcasm and an exaggerated wink.

Her humor eases my tension as I shrug and sigh. “The town folk are staring because they haven’t seen me in public with a woman in years.Thisis why I really wanted to go out of town on our first date.”

“Wait,” she says, holding up a finger as she takes a long drink of her cocktail. “Years?”

“I don’t date,” I say as my fingernail scrapes at the corner of the label on my beer bottle.

“Why not?”

I shrug again. “After my grandfather passed, I kind of shut down. He was both parents to Willow and me, and even though I had time to prepare for his death—cancer—I never did. I kept praying for a miracle, and it never came. When he died, I was angry with the universe and bitter over the whole wolf-mania circus my home has become. I didn’t show my face around town at all for weeks.”

“That wolf-mania is what brought me here,” she says softly.

My mood lifts, and I smile. “Maybe I’m starting to see the silver lining in all of it.”

She visibly brightens, then her expression turns devilish. “Does that mean I’m allowed to call you––”

“Don’t even think it,” I cut in, my voice deep and brusque, which only makes her laugh.

“Fine. I’ll wear you down eventually.”

“Not going to happen.”

She grins at me for another moment, then sobers, saying, “I’m really sorry about your Grandad.”

“Thanks,” I murmur. “I know he’s in a better place now, as cliché as that sounds. There was a lot of pain at the end.”

“I can’t imagine how hard it was to live through that with him,” she says, real empathy shining in her eyes.

I shake my head and take a long swig of my beer. “What about you? Are your parents still around?”

“Definearound,” she says with more than a little resentment, then sighs. “They’re alive, yes. They live in Canada.”

“Canada?” I ask.

“They never wanted kids, and I was an oops baby. They raised me, but they were never really present, if you know what I mean. As soon as I went to college, they sold the house and moved to Canada and bought a winery. Mom paints, and Dad makes wine. They send me a thousand dollars in a birthday card every year and call on Christmas, but that’s really our only contact.” She huffs out a breath, then, and shakes her head. “Okay, this is too dark for a date. Let’s talk about something happier.”

“Like what?” I ask.

She shoots a coy look toward the bar. “How about the fact that your best friend has the hots for Pressley?”

“You noticed that, too, did you?” I ask, then chuckle. “He hasn’t said anything about it, but I’ve seen the looks between them. He’s not alone in his interest.”

She nods with enthusiasm. “She likes him. And he’s texted her a few times since that day at the lake. Pressley swears he’s just being friendly, though. I think the years she spent around Madison and Sloan killed her self-esteem. She just can’t imagine a hot guy like Bram being into her.”

“Hot, huh?” I say, narrowing my eyes.

“Totally,” she gushes, waving a hand in front of her face like she needs to cool off.

I grunt noncommittally, and her bright laughter rings out like a heavenly chorus.

“Relax, big guy,” she says. “I only have eyes for you. But I had Willow do a reading for Pressley and Bram, and she said it’strue love.”

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