Chapter 3
Natalie
Tip #3: Before fake dating your enemy, confirm they’re your least-worst option. You want to avoid hitting rock bottom unless absolutely necessary.
T he air was thick with the scent of buttery popcorn and enthusiasm as I stepped into the bustling high school gymnasium. The Fox Creek Players had just wrapped up their performance of Romeo and Juliet , and the small reception afterward was in full swing.
Laughter mingled with animated conversations as the attendees milled around, sipping orange soda from paper cups and munching on pretzels and popcorn. The worn wooden floorboards creaked beneath my feet, a nostalgic reminder of my own school days.
I stood on my tiptoes, struggling to see through the crowd.
Some of the guests were chatting with the actors, who still wore their elaborate period costumes, but it wasn’t long before I spotted my brother Owen, still in his hospital scrubs, manning the raffle table. (The raffle proceeds would be going to our local hospital, where he worked as a nurse.)
“Owen!” I wove my way through the crowd and almost rammed the table. “Sorry I’m late!”
“Ah, there’s the city’s henchman,” he teased, offering me a warm smile that reached his tired eyes.
“You joke about that, but one of the Fox Creek town board members cornered me in the auditorium to discuss the agenda for this month’s meeting. He didn’t like some of the abbreviations I’d used.” I wrinkled my nose.
Owen, understanding all too well how intense my role as town clerk could get, chuckled. “That sounds about right. How do you cope with being at everyone’s beck and call?”
“Years of practice and a healthy dose of sarcasm.” I grinned. “Now, how’s this raffle going? Are we raking in the big bucks for the hospital, or what?”
“It’s going better than I could’ve hoped.” Owen lifted up a plastic bin that once held cheesy puffs but was now halfway filled with red paper tickets. “I had to upgrade from the glass pickle jar to this just to hold all the tickets!”
“Wow! That’s fantastic!” I said, proud of our town’s support.
As we chatted, a cute, blond-haired man approached the table, his friendly smile lighting up his face. “Natalie, Owen, good to see you both!”
“Jordan! It’s good to see you.” I waved to him. “How’s your wife doing?”
“Melissa’s great, thanks for asking. She’s pregnant with our first child!” Jordan beamed with pride. “Expect an invitation to the baby shower in the mail soon.”
“Congratulations, Jordan! That’s wonderful news,” I said.
“Thanks, Nat.” He turned his attention to the raffle table and pulled out his wallet. “Now, let me get in on this action. Two raffle tickets, please.”
“You got it.” Owen tore off two tickets and handed them to Jordan.
Jordan scribbled his name on the tickets before dropping them into the makeshift container.
“Thanks for participating in the raffle, Jordan,” Owen said. “It means a lot to the hospital and the community.”
Jordan adjusted the brim of his baseball cap. “Of course. Happy to help.”
“Tell Melissa I said hi, and I can’t wait for the baby shower!” I said as he turned to go.
“Will do, Nat!” He threw me a friendly wave before disappearing into the sea of smiling faces.
As the gym buzzed with conversation, Owen leaned into me. “Didn’t you and Jordan have a thing back in the day?”
“Jordan? Yeah, but that was ages ago. We dated briefly when we were in our early twenties,” I said. “I’m really happy for him and Melissa. They’re such a great couple, and I love them both to death.”
I waved at a few familiar faces passing by, and Owen played with one of the raffle tickets. “You know, it’s pretty amazing that you’ve managed to stay friends with all your exes, Nat.”
“Ah, well.” I shrugged. “It’s a necessary skill when you live in a small town like Fox Creek. You never know when you might need a favor—or a raffle ticket—from someone.” I playfully elbowed him. “You know that as well as I do.”
Some people would say the necessity of playing nice when you lived in a small town was one of the downsides. Personally, I loved it. Needing to get along to make the town thrive was what made Fox Creek so special.
Owen laughed, his green eyes crinkling at the corners. “I suppose I do. Neighborly love is important…” He trailed off as he stared into the crowd.
I sold four tickets to a mom herding her four kids, who looked like they were on the verge of a sugar rush. (It was probably from the orange soda they’d been guzzling if the spatters of orange on their clothes were anything to go by.)
Owen still seemed distracted, so I craned my neck, trying to see where he was looking. Following his gaze, I realized he was watching Jenna Warner, the cousin of the despised Samuel Warner.
Like Owen, Jenna was also dressed in her scrubs. She must have rushed to the performance straight from work. Her blond hair was tucked back in a neat bun, and she was talking animatedly with one of her friends.
“Jenna looks beautiful tonight, doesn’t she?” I asked casually, trying to gauge Owen’s reaction. He’d never approached her with anything other than general friendliness birthed between coworkers. However…
“Yes. She does.” Owen immediately turned his attention to sorting the raffle tickets, but I knew my brother too well.
“Do you work directly with Jenna?” I asked, pretending to be only mildly curious.
Owen shook his head. “No, we’re in different departments in the hospital. But I run into her pretty frequently.”
“Is she nice? She seems really sweet.”
“Jenna is very nice,” Owen confirmed, smiling softly. “She’s always kind and friendly to everyone. It’s hard to believe she’s a Warner.”
“Right?” I agreed. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say she was adopted or something.” I narrowed my eyes as I pondered this strange juxtaposition in the Warner family tree.
“Street rats,” Marjorie called out to us. The beehive her silver hair was fashioned into tilted as she waddled up to our table.
“Hi, Marjorie!” I said. “Are you having fun tonight?”
Marjorie harrumphed. “Can’t say I enjoy dramatic romances about silly, sniveling teenagers, but I did think it was funny when Romeo almost fell into the coffin right on top of Juliet.” Marjorie hefted her enormous black handbag. “I need two tickets. One for me and one for your grandmother.”
“You’ve got it,” Owen said.
“You and Grandma Mann better not go too wild tonight,” I warned her, only half joking. (Grandma Mann was a wild card, and Marjorie was a force of nature.) “The Fox Creek Players don’t need a couple of rowdy seniors wreaking havoc on their reception.”
Marjorie sniffed. “I can’t make any promises. I wouldn’t want to, anyway. Your grandmother is a hoot when she’s outraged.”
As Owen handed Marjorie her tickets, he stole another wistful glance at Jenna, who was still chatting with her friend.
I’d suspected for a while now—probably about two years—that Owen had a thing for Jenna, but they hadn’t made any progress. Admittedly, the pesky family feud probably hadn’t made things easy.
“Thank you for supporting the hospital,” Owen said.
“Naturally. You have fun, kids.” Marjorie tossed the tickets with her name written on them into the growing pile in the bin. She waggled her handbag at us, then shuffled off into the crowd.
“Owen.” I shifted my weight from foot to foot and hoped I was coming off as casually curious. “Would you ever consider asking Jenna out?”
Owen blinked. “Where is this coming from?”
“You seem to get along with her,” I said. “So I was just wondering.”
Owen’s expression didn’t change, but his shoulders slumped ever so slightly. “She’s lovely, Nat, and I’m sure she’d be fun to date. But it wouldn’t be a good idea.”
“Really?” I asked, trying to keep my tone light despite the heaviness of the topic. “Why not?”
“Living in a small town... it’s complicated,” Owen said. “Like you said before, small-town life makes certain things necessary.”
“Like?”
“Like dating people who like your family,” Owen said bluntly. “Our families don’t exactly get along, and with how important family life is to both of us, it would make things difficult.”
I frowned.
Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t like the Warners—in fact I just about hated Samuel Warner—but it seemed ridiculous that something like an old feud could stand in the way of my brother’s happiness.
“Maybe we Manns could get over it for your sake,” I suggested.
“Maybe our family would.” Owen gave me a half-hearted shrug. “But probably not. And even if they did, I wouldn’t want Jenna to be subjected to the years of gossip, drama, and potential hurt it would take to finally get through to our families.” He turned away from me and called out to a neighbor passing by. “Hey, Mr. Felton! Care to buy some raffle tickets? The proceeds go to the hospital.”
As Owen busied himself with selling tickets, I chewed on my lip, lost in thought.
I adored my older brother more than anything. We were partners in crime for life—why else would I be selling raffle tickets to benefit the hospital on a Wednesday night?
It made me sad that he’d pined after Jenna for so long, but I understood why he was reluctant to make a move. He cared too much to risk causing her any pain.
Still. If you had the right attitude (shameless) it would be possible to convince (threaten) the families to bury the hatchet. But, yeah, I couldn’t really see sweet Jenna and my too-caring brother managing it as well as someone with my more outgoing (pushy) personality.
The reception continued for an hour, and the number of tickets in the plastic bin grew. By most accounts the night would have been considered a hit, but every time I caught Owen glancing at Jenna, something twisted in my chest.
It wasn’t until half of the play attendees had left the reception that I finally had a moment to think some more about Owen and Jenna.
I half listened to Owen chat with his neighbor Mrs. Thompson as I scanned the crowd, looking for Jenna.
I spotted her chatting with the actress who’d played Juliet. Her smile was as infectious as her laughter. It was no wonder Owen had fallen for her. But was there really no way to help the pair? Probably not when the mere thought of Jenna’s cousin—who didn’t need to be named—made me want to crumple the dollar bills Owen handed me.
“Here you go, Mrs. Thompson.” Owen passed her the purchased raffle tickets. “Thanks for supporting the hospital. Your daughter did a wonderful job as Juliet.”
“Yes, she did,” I echoed, the dutiful sidekick. “She was a great Juliet.”
“Thank you.” Mrs. Thompson beamed. “I’ll be sure to pass your praise along. She always gets so squirrely before opening night! This time that worked in her favor since Romeo and Juliet is such a dramatic love story.”
Owen laughed and said something in response, but I didn’t hear it as I stared down at the folding table, Mrs. Thompson’s words ringing in my brain.
Romeo and Juliet was a dramatic love story.
Owen wouldn’t ask Jenna out because of our families. Marjorie had said at the Friends of the Library meeting that only death or a romance like Romeo and Juliet’s would ever get the Manns and the Warners to be civil. What if I could manufacture a love story like that?
Owen himself had said that our families would probably get over our disagreements if faced with a Mann-Warner romance. It just would be a bumpy and likely unpleasant ride to get there.
I, however, wouldn’t care if I was subjected to gossip and drama. I already dealt with that as the Fox Creek town clerk. The family spats wouldn’t be fun, and the thought of having to get along with the Warners made me grit my teeth, but if it was for Owen, I could do it.
Besides, the romance didn’t have to be real. It just had to last long enough for Owen to ask Jenna out. Once they were established, I could say farewell to my fake Warner beau with zero regrets and pretend to still be on good terms with him so the families wouldn’t restart the fight.
Actually, that would be the easiest part to carry out. I’d done it with all my previous boyfriends, so despite their hatred of the Warners, my family wouldn’t have any reason to suspect I hadn’t managed to end the fake relationship amicably.
“Who, though, would be my pretend Romeo?” I muttered.
The Warner family tree had a few options, most notably the heirs apparent: Isaac Warner, the company CFO; Logan Warner, Jenna’s older brother, who also led Warner Print’s legal team; and last and certainly least, Samuel Warner.
But I’d exchanged maybe ten sentences with Isaac since attending high school with him, and he was about as emotional as a rock. And Logan terrified me. (Unlike Samuel, Logan knew when to keep his mouth shut, but with his broad shoulders and the dark, brooding look he always wore, there was something intimidating about him.)
That left me with Samuel.
Ick.
No.
There were two other Warner relatives—Connor and Max, the sons of the only Warner daughter. But they’d left Fox Creek for college and hadn’t come back since except for the occasional visit.
“Hey Owen, do you know if Connor and Max Warner have any plans to move back to Fox Creek?” I asked.
Owen blinked in surprise. “Yeah. Jenna told me they’re working with other companies to get experience and are planning to eventually transfer back here. But I don’t think that’ll be for another year or two. Why?”
“No reason.” I folded my arms across my chest as I thought some more.
Connor and Max were obviously out. So, within the available options, Samuel was the only real choice.
He and I interacted regularly enough to make it believable that we’d somehow fallen in love. He also had the charm we’d need to convince everyone we were madly in love despite frequently being at each other’s throats.
But no matter how much I wanted to fool everyone, I doubted my acting skills were up to pretending to be in love with Samuel, the Warner who had been nothing but a pain in my ass for years.
“I think we can probably start cleaning up,” Owen said. “Looks like they’re out of soda and putting away the snacks, so everyone will clear out soon.”
“When will you draw for the raffle?” I asked.
“I’ll do that tomorrow,” Owen said. “Mr. Patel—he directed the play—is coming over to my house to help draw the tickets and contact the winners.”
“Sounds good to me. Do you have the lid for the cheesy puffs container?” I asked.
“I think I left it out in my car.” Owen ducked around the table and started to walk backward toward a set of double doors. “I’ll go run and get it.”
“Great! No rush.” I grabbed the giant roll of red tickets we’d been using for the raffle and moved to put them in the cardboard box Owen had brought in.
When I looked up, Owen was talking to Jenna, his bright smile washing away all the signs of fatigue he’d previously shown.
He really liked Jenna.
And I really wanted my brother to be happy.
I sighed, dragging it out so long it ended in a hiss.
I’d have to do some more thinking to see if I could come up with any other idea, but I couldn’t see any way around it: I’d be proposing a fake relationship to Samuel. Chances were he’d laugh in my face and publicly tease me for secretly crushing on him. I’d have to form a good argument before I approached him and come up with a bribe to make him interested.
Samuel didn’t strike me as the loyal type, except to his precious Warner Print and family. I’d have to go in from that angle. Somehow.
I grimaced as I took the lockbox of money Owen and I had gathered and placed it on top of the tickets. “If I can convince him, these next few months are going to be ugly,” I grumbled. “Not to mention that it’s going to kill every ounce of my self-respect!”