Riding the Sugar High: a Grumpy Sunshine Romantic Comedy

16. Act Silly Around Me

“Remindme again why we’re here,” I say as I step out of the Uber. I rub a food dye stain off my wrist from this morning’s candy-making session as Logan joins my side, nervously looking around.

“It was only a matter of time before my mom heard about you, and she’s not going to give up until she meets my...” He grimaces. “My girlfriend.”

“Don’t look too happy about it.”

“It’s stupid.”

I sigh, hoping this version of grumpy Logan is just an excerpt and not a preview for the whole day. He’s been like this since last night, when I accidentally flashed him, though we’ve managed to mostly keep our distance. While he’s been on the fields all day, I’ve been working tirelessly on finding a recipe that I hope will please the people at Marisol. That is, until his mom called and threatened to come to the farm unless we both showed up at Sunday family dinner.

So here we are.

The single-story red-brick home in front of us sits on a manicured lawn, surrounded by a picket fence. It looks welcoming enough, and with the sun low on the horizon, it’s the perfect setup for a nice meal. Though Logan clearly disagrees.

“Let’s do this,” I mumble, holding my hand out. Logan’s eyes catch on my open palm, but he makes no movement, so I drop it down my side. “We’re together, aren’t we?”

“I don’t hold hands.”

“Right. Arrr.”

One unimpressed glare later, we walk through the small gate and along the cobbled pathway that leads to the veranda. We approach the door, and it takes a full five seconds for Logan to actually knock. Tension vibrates off him, and it’s making my hands sweat. Last time he was this nervous, the lunch ended in disaster, and today, I won’t be lying to Josie and Aaron alone, but to his whole family.

The door opens, and Aaron fills the entrance, his smile slipping only a fraction. “Oh, hello.” He turns to me, his grin back in place. “Primrose.”

“Nice to see you again,” I say with a timid nod.

He lets us in, and as I join Logan in the corridor, he says in my ear, “So you’re polite to everyone but me?” but I ignore him in favor of Aaron, who asks how everything’s going. We chat as he leads the way farther into the house and toward the cacophonic mix of noises. Through the sliding glass door in the living room, I spot people sitting at a long table outside, the smell of grilled meat making me salivate immediately.

“We’re having barbecue,” Aaron says to Logan.

“That’s fine. I’ll have a salad.”

“There’s probably cheese in it.”

“Then I’ll eat a tomato,” Logan grunts out, obviously on the winning side of their glaring contest.

Clearing my throat, I step closer and lock arms with Logan. It gets his attention, and with a smile, I say, “How about we start with a beer and leave the tomatoes for later? Hm? Beer’s always vegan, isn’t it?”

“You’d be surprised,” he mumbles, “but the one my parents drink is vegan. So, if you’ll excuse me.”

He walks away, and after throwing an awkward look at Aaron, I follow.

I hate to say it, but Logan might have a point about Aaron. He was hostile before we’d even stepped inside. Plus, he knew Logan was coming. Did nobody think to accommodate his diet?

I reach Logan as he steps through the back door—just in time to see a short, middle-aged woman stand and cup her mouth with both hands, a loud gasp escaping her smiling lips. Everyone else turns around in response, and there’s a whole chorus of welcomes and hollering.

Nothing evil, not at first glance.

“See,” I whisper as the woman—his mom?—rushes around the table. “Not that ba?—”

His fingers slide between mine, though he keeps his gaze away. His shoulders are bunched at his ears, and he’s chewing on his bottom lip. He’s nervous. So nervous that he’s holding my hand.

“Logan!” the woman squeals as she approaches us, her arms extended for a hug. Her eyes dart to our hands together and go comically wide, but she quickly recovers and throws herself at Logan.

“Hey, Mom.” He lets go of my hand to hug her back, and I can’t help grinning at the scene before me. Though I’m still very annoyed after yesterday’s performance, this is cute.

“You’re here!” She smiles at me over his shoulders as she gently rubs his back. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

“Don’t cry, Ma.”

“Oh, let me be.” She pulls away from him and brings a finger to her eye. “I’m old and sensitive.” She turns to me, her eyes lit as if the sun itself were behind them. “And who’s this beautiful woman?”

“Primrose Bellevue.”

“Lucy Coleman,” she says, shaking my hand. She waits, clearly expecting one of us to explain, but it’s not up to me to say, so I hold my breath as Logan awkwardly looks down at his feet, until eventually, Lucy claps her hands. “Okay, grab whatever you want to eat. I’ll go fetch you a couple of chairs.”

She sprints away, and we’re soon joined by Logan’s father, Darren, who just as warmly welcomes us. Before my hand even leaves his, he’s introducing me to uncles, aunts, cousins, and only god knows who else, because I stop retaining information after the fourth person I’m dragged to.

“You’re okay sharing a chair, yeah?” Lucy asks as she guides me to the table and fits a huge portion of eggplant on a plate. “We’ve had more people turn up than expected, and we’ve run out.”

“Moooom,” Logan drawls.

“What? I can’t make a chair out of thin air, Logan.”

With a resigned gesture, Logan sits and motions at me to come closer.

“No, Logan, I’m?—”

“Say you’re too heavy,” he says as his arm drapes around my waist and he pulls me down, “and I’ll start throwing you around like a juggler.”

Fine, I guess.

I settle on Logan’s legs, and my plate is snagged from my hand as Lucy begins questioning her son about his life while decanting the food they’ve cooked.

Though it’s chaotic and my attention gets snatched by one person or another asking me questions, I feel Logan’s tension. His discomfort. It’s like he feels as though he doesn’t belong. And it’s not his family. It’s him.

I discreetly tap his arm after some distant cousin I’m speaking to excuses himself from the table. “Hey,” I whisper, his eyes meeting mine. “Are you okay, cowboy?”

“I’m fine.” His eyes narrow on my face. “I thought you were mad at me.”

I am, but seeing him this uncomfortable around his family makes my heart squeeze.

I grasp his hand, clenched in a fist over his mouth, and pull it down. “You know, I should take offense.”

“Hmm?”

I keep my voice down and move my lips closer to his ear. “You didn’t tell your mom we’re together. You froze.”

“I told you. It’s stupid.”

“Might be stupid, but it’s our cover.” I tap a finger on my lips. “Maybe you’d feel better if you yee-hawed.”

That gets him to smile, and he settles his hand on my thigh. His thumb brushes over my naked skin, and at first, I figure he’s doing it for our audience, but as he tilts his head and stares deeply into my eyes, I know he’s picturing last night.

“Stop it.”

His head jerks back. “What did I do?”

“You’re picturing it—them.”

His lips morph into a full-blown smile now. “Oh, you bet.”

“Well, quit it.”

“No. With no internet, that’s the closest thing to porn I’ve gotten in five years.”

“Then you better start paying me royalties.”

“Too bad there’s no Be someone’s jerk-off fantasy on your list, because you’d be crossing that item off again, and again, and?—”

When I smack him, he grabs my hand and explodes into laughter. Seeing as that was my initial goal, I settle on his thighs with a content sigh.

“Logan! Prim!” comes from the house, and I turn around to see Josie walking out with a casserole in her hands. “I’m so happy you’re here.”

We both stand, and after exchanging quick hugs, she puts the casserole down on the table and rubs a hand on Logan’s arm. “I made a potato salad for you, Logan. And the corn pie is totally vegan too.”

“Thanks, Jo,” he tells her with a subtle bob of his head. “Where’s Sadie?”

“With my parents today.”

An awkward silence settles as I study her and she studies me. Seeing as last time we met she was half-drunk and trying to trick me into confessing, I’m not exactly sure how I feel about her, but I’ll play my part.

Aaron comes to stand next to her, an arm draped over her shoulders and a beer in his hand. “Primrose, I wanted to apologize about dinner. My behavior was inexcusable.”

To me?That’s who he wants to apologize to?

“Oh, thanks.” I shrug half-heartedly. “Family drama. It happens.”

He drinks a sip of beer. “Do you have a big family?”

Logan’s arm wraps around my waist and pulls me down on our shared chair. Balancing myself on his legs—and ignoring the fact that my feet don’t even touch the ground—I smile up at Aaron. “Uh, no. And we’re not close anyway.”

“Too bad.” After a sip of beer, he shrugs. “To be fair, Logan isn’t close to his family either.”

Logan’s body tenses beneath me. “And whose fault is that?”

“Yours.”

“I don’t think so, Aaron.”

Here we go again.

“Oh, is it my fault?” He lowers his voice. “Are your felonies my fault too?”

I chew on my bottom lip, watching Josie as she exhales curtly, and Logan tips his beer back. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Aaron narrows his eyes at Josie. “Will you say something? Tell him he needs to confess.”

“I’m not saying anything at all,” she quips back. Her eyes fill with resentment, and setting her plate down, she clicks her tongue. “This is supposed to be a family lunch. Why do you always have to ruin everything?” And without waiting for Aaron’s answer, she walks.

Looking around, I notice the curious looks we’ve attracted and sink back, as if I can disappear into Logan’s chest completely.

This is so embarrassing.

Aaron barely acknowledges his wife and keeps his eyes on Logan. “They’re building a case against you. Do you understand? Arson,” he snaps, his voice hushed so that nobody else can hear. “It’s not just about two missing piglets anymore. It’s a felony. Up to twenty years in jail.”

My stomach twists with nausea.

“You’re a good person, okay? And I’m sure Primrose is too,” Aaron continues as he leans closer, concern painted over his face. “I know you don’t want her to end up in trouble, but you can’t go to prison for her.”

Logan’s hand protectively squeezes my hip, pressing me closer to him. “Primrose and I didn’t do a thing. Even if we did, there wouldn’t be any evidence to back it up.”

“They have evidence, Logan.”

“All right,” Logan says, mindlessly rubbing my hip. “Looking forward to seeing what.”

“Logan—”

“Look, Aaron,” Logan hisses, “If you think there’s anything you can say that would make me turn Primrose in, you’re even more delusional than I thought.”

“Huh.” He pauses, studying my eyes for a long moment. “So you do like her.”

I pull my shoulders back, Logan’s thighs stiffening beneath me as his fingers stop rubbing. “Yes, I do,” he says then, as if he’s suddenly remembered about our cover. “Of course, I like her. She’s my girlfriend. And besides, look at her.”

I bite my bottom lip, heat rising up my cheeks as Aaron’s expression softens.

“Okay, well. I’m happy for you. But we can’t just ignore everything else that’s going on. Like the farm?” He grabs a chair, then sits on the edge, elbows on his knees. “Let me help you. The money I inherited from my dad, you know we planned to invest part of it in the farm?—”

“I’m not taking your money, Aaron,” Logan says, a frustrated edge to his voice. “You can’t fix everything with money, Jesus. I needed you, and you took everything from me. How can you possibly think...”

“Logan—”

“Look. I’m here for Mom, okay? I have my lunch,” he says as he holds out his beer, “and my girl’s ass on my lap.” My eyes widen, butterflies rushing up my throat. “Just leave me alone.”

Aaron shakes his head, then, with a final look at Logan, stands and walks away.

Though when we got here, he was acting like a total ass, it does look like he’s trying to make up for his mistakes, and watching Logan tear his efforts down is heartbreaking.

Besides, he could use that money.

“Are you okay?” I ask as I gently twist on Logan’s lap.

I hold a hand to his shoulder, and after a long moment, he mumbles, “Know why I wouldn’t date you, Barbie?”

With my lips pursing, I gesture at him to speak. “Let’s hear it.”

His eyes narrow, then he shakes his head. “Sorry, what were we saying? I got distracted picturing your b?—”

When I move to smack him again, he traps my wrist in his hand.

God, how I love the way he laughs.

* * *

“Elliot is having some car troubles,” Logan’s mom says in his ear before ruffling his hair. I set the fork back on my plate and watch him groan from my own chair—turns out there’s enough for everyone after all.

“No, Mom. He’s not.”

“Yes, yes. The carbonator. It’s broken—go, he’s waiting for you in the driveway.”

He tosses an apologetic look my way and moves to stand. “I want the record to reflect that a carbonator is a kitchen appliance, not a car part.” Then before walking away, he discreetly mouths at me, ‘Don’t mess it up.’

“You should grab more food,” Lucy immediately starts as she points at the table. “Did you try the zucchini pie? Oh, and that fancy cheese. Paul, Logan’s cousin, has a dairy farm.”

“The perfect family for a vegan to land in, huh?” I ask as I tuck my hair behind my ears.

I swear, with the way my heart is hammering, all this lying will send me to the hospital.

She laughs, nodding hard. “When Logan was a kid, the farm was much smaller. I only had a coup.” Meeting my confused gaze, she chuckles. “With chickens, you know?”

“Oh, yes.”

“Every once in a while, Logan would come downstairs for breakfast, and there’d be a chicken bleeding out in the sink.” Her eyes, the same blue-gray as Logan and Aaron, moisten as she loses herself in the memory. “He would cry and cry—refuse to eat for days. And I couldn’t understand it, because my parents were poor. We dreamed of a chicken dinner, you know?”

I do understand. Though my parents have always been absent from my life, they work harder than anyone else. They too didn’t come from money and wanted a better life for me than what they’d had growing up. “Do you think he resents you for it?”

“Maybe. We did have a few hundred screaming matches about it. Then one day, he came out of his bedroom—I think he was twelve. He looked me straight in the eye and said, ‘Mom, I’m a vegan now.’”

I can’t help but grin. “What did you say?”

“I believe I said, ‘What’s that?’ I thought it was a sexual orientation.”

Chuckles burst past my lips, and she pats my knee with a fond look in her eyes. “You have a beautiful laugh. And smile. Are you a vegan, Primrose?”

“I’m not, Mrs?—”

“Lucy.” Her chin lowers, a complicit look in her eyes. “Mom, if you’re lucky enough.”

Oh, boy. Here we go.

“Uh, um...Logan and I, we...”

“Are you in love with my son?”

I suck in a breath, internally cringing at her friendly tone. I can tell she’s asking in the hopes I’ll say yes, not to warn me or scare me off. But I can’t lie to this sweet old lady. I can’t, in good conscience, tell her I’m her future daughter-in-law. It’ll break her heart when I leave next week. “Well, we’re, uh...”

I also can’t tell her the truth, though. Can I?

Where’s Logan?

When I look around in a panic, Lucy cups my knee. “Dear, I know my son, and he doesn’t look at a lot of people the way he looks at you.” She peers at me, holding strong eye contact. “Like he’ll drop dead if he stops.”

He does not. Does he? Last night, he looked at me like he wished I would drop dead. But the rest of the time? Just now, when he was making fun of my scene last night? There was a fond smile on his face. A sparkle in his eyes.

“You know he’s been through a lot with...” She vaguely gestures behind her, and my eyes settle on Aaron, talking to Josie and an older man whose name I forgot.

“Yeah, I know.”

“And she?—”

“The carbonator is fixed,” Logan says as he walks up to us, and his mom releases an annoyed sigh. “Did you get your intel?”

“Just eat your lunch,” she says as she gently slaps the back of his neck. Once she turns her focus to the party, she gasps. “Oh, look, Theresa is taking pictures!” She frantically gestures at us to follow her. “Come on, I want one of the two of you.”

“Mooom,” he bellows.

Lucy’s arm locks with mine, and when I flash a wide-eyed look at Logan, he follows, his back hunched as if he’s been sentenced to death. Now that I think about it, there are no pictures in his home.

“I never want to forget the day I met you,” she says as she props me in front of the camera, then tucks my hair behind my ear with the warmth reserved for a mother. It makes my heart ache, and if it’s the last thing I do in this life, I’ll take this picture for her. We will.

“Logan?” I call as he lazily walks toward me, making his disdain about the whole ordeal obvious to everyone, then pouting when his mom slicks his hair back.

“Let’s just do this,” he barks as he wraps an arm around my shoulders and unceremoniously pulls me closer until I bump into his side.

“Jesus. Manners,” I mumble as I pinch his hip. “I’m not a rag doll.”

He flinches away, then turns to me with a murderous look. His hand darts out, but I entangle my fingers with his, stopping him from pinching me.

“Logan, don’t?—”

His other hand approaches, but I hold that too, squeezing his fingers when he tries to free himself of my hold. “You started it.”

“No, you did!” I squeal when his hand escapes and he tickles my side. “Logan—stop—no!”

I erupt into laughter as his other hand tickles my left hip. “You start wars you can’t win, Barbie.”

“I’m sorry!” I shout as I bend forward, his hands still mercilessly attacking my sides. “Please, I’m so—sorry,” I manage in between waves of laughter as I slide onto the dewy grass.

The heat of his dark chuckle hits my ear, his hands still on my hips though he stopped torturing me.

I throw a look at his family, expecting to find them watching us with some degree of judgment—I know I would—but his cousin is taking pictures of us, and his mom’s expression is that of someone witnessing a miracle.

We’ve attracted the attention of a few more people, Aaron and Josie included. Though Aaron isn’t smiling, it’s Josie’s expression that catches my attention. Her lips are bent up, but her eyes aren’t in it. Almost as if she were wishing this type of idiotic interaction for herself. I can’t imagine Aaron is a “tickle you to the ground” kind of guy. It makes my chest squeeze for her.

“Ready for your picture?” Logan asks, and when I look over, I find him staring at me with something resembling a smile. His eyes are soft and curious, and for a moment, I wonder if that’s the look his mom was talking about. Like there’s something mesmerizing about me, though he can’t wrap his head around what, and it’s driving him mad. Since we’ve been crouched on the grass, has he taken his eyes off me at all?

“Yes,” I mumble.

“Come on, you two,” his mom calls, and with a sigh, he lifts me until we’re both standing. I comb my fingers through my hair—I must look like an absolute lunatic— as his hand circles my hip, this time not to tickle but to gently pull me closer. I rest a hand and cheek on his chest and pose for the picture.

“Give us a kiss!” someone shouts, and I wish I knew who did it so I could incinerate them with my glare. I wouldn’t kiss my real boyfriend in front of his whole family whom I just met—let alone a fake one.

But before I can protest, Logan’s lips press against the top of my head, pulling me even closer. Sinking into him, I close my eyes for a second.

Moments like this one, when he’s so gentle, make me like him even more. I like his rough edges too—how protective he is, how stubborn and direct. They’re all parts of him that make my blood boil, and I’m learning to appreciate that too. The passion—the fire between us.

But when he holds me, when he strips himself of his hard shell, I crave him in the most innocent way. It feels like the most dangerous too.

When Logan’s cousin stops clicking away, I almost ask her for the files. It’d be weird, I guess. As a couple, we should have plenty of our own pictures. But I’ll have to take one myself before I leave the farm. Though it’s possibly the most stressed I’ve ever been, I want to remember this moment of my life—or rather, Logan. Logan and me.

“My turn now,” Josie says as he walks closer. She wobbles a little, her eyes cloudy and unfocused, then stops next to the camera. Is she drunk? She and Aaron have kept away from us the whole day, so I can’t say for sure, but she definitely isn’t acting like herself. “Who’s going to take a picture with me?”

“Josie,” Aaron scolds as he grips her arm and pulls her back. “Let’s go drink some water.”

“No, Aaron,” she snarls. “I want to take pictures, and if you don’t, I’ll take one with Logan.”

My stomach twists as my fingers cling to Logan’s shirt. Everyone is watching her, the chatter now nonexistent, and the tension is almost insufferable.

“Josie—” Aaron tries again, but with a strong pull, she frees herself from his hold.

“Let me go.” She takes a step forward, tipping her glass to her lips and swallowing a big gulp of wine. She stumbles to the side, and before either Logan or Aaron can reach her, she falls, wine sloshing onto her dress. “Look!” she whines, lips twisted in a grimace. “Look what you made me do!”

Aaron slides his arm under her thighs and picks her up as Josie continues shouting at him. Lucy follows them inside, but I don’t have the heart to meet her eyes as she passes us.

A low mumble among the rest of Logan’s family morphs back into conversation, and before I’ve even noticed he left, Logan’s back by my side with our jackets.

He hands mine over, and with any trace of joy vanished, he mumbles, “Let’s go.”