The Fiance Dilemma (The Long Game #2)

Chapter Two

CHAPTER TWO

Matthew’s eyes widened.

Crap.

Then he frowned.

Double crap.

Play along, I mouthed.

Matthew, who must have been caught in the storm that had just swept over Green Oak, based on his wet hair, glanced behind him. He pointed at himself.

Me? I read on his lips.

Okay, shit.

This wasn’t going as I’d imagined. But what had I been expecting? I hadn’t planned this. Matthew was my sister’s best friend, and I’d known that he’d be arriving in Green Oak at some point this weekend. But I didn’t even know why he was here, in my driveway. Had he decided to stop by on his way to Lazy Elk? Had Adalyn given him my address? Why was he carrying a duffel bag? Where was his car? I wished I had all those pieces of information, but he was Adalyn’s best friend, after all. Not mine. Matthew and I weren’t good friends, we were acquaintances. Of sorts. If that’s what you call two people who’d texted in a group chat but had never met in person.

And I’d just called him love of my life. Out loud. Really loud.

My eyes widened.

I’d just called him love of my life.

I swallowed, glancing back at Bobbi. Dark eyes met mine, expectant. Judging. Nope. I couldn’t back down now. Absolutely not. She’d think I had issues. Real issues, not the ones she accused me of having. I returned my attention to Matthew Flanagan, Adalyn’s best friend and, as of minutes ago, my doting fiancé. The thought made my head spin again, but I could work with this. He knew it was me. Josie. His best friend’s sister. He’ll know something’s up.

Matthew moved. Finally. His foot rose in the air and… he took a step forward. In the direction of the porch.

I let out all the air I held in relief.

“Oh boy, have I missed you,” I said, still loud. “Did you miss me too, sweet… baby… pie?”

Just like two light-brown flags of uncertainty would, his brows shot up.

“Oh, no need to answer that,” I rushed out. “I already know the answer like it’s tattooed on my heart. You’ve missed me a whole bunch, I’m sure. Because we love each other and people in love can’t wait to, you know, canoodle. Smooch. Make sweet love.”

Bobbi groaned behind me.

Matthew’s step faltered for a moment.

I didn’t blame either of them. I was appalled at myself too.

With a shake of my head, I walked down a couple of steps, closing some of the distance that was taking my impromptu fiancé ages to cover and ignoring the way my heart raced for all the wrong reasons.

He stopped at the bottom of the porch before looking up, his gaze swiping left and right. As if inspecting. Assessing. Then his eyes met mine. They were brown, big, and narrowed behind his glasses, still dripping with water. There was something in them, too. Something distracting that I couldn’t read. Something that made me think he was still deciding what to do. I felt myself plead with him, even if silently. The quality of his gaze changed, and I held my breath again.

“That’s me,” he announced, setting his boot on the last step of the porch with a wet thump. “Baby.” He cleared his throat. “And sweet baby pie. Which we’ll talk about later. Right now, I’m just glad I’m finally… home. Ready for all that canoodling.” There was a beat of silence. And Matthew must have mistaken my staggering relief for confusion, because he shot me a glance and said, “Now get your ass here and give me some sugar.”

Bobbi sighed loudly before letting out an appalled ugh.

Not me though. Just as requested, I kicked into action, flying off the porch and landing on his chest like giving this man some sugar was something I knew how to do. I didn’t, but my arms went around him either way, the top of my head locking right beneath his chin. And he… was soaking wet. Matthew’s clothes were sopping, including his leather jacket, and I could feel my robe absorbing the moisture. My skin cooling. I could also feel his body tense and stiff against mine. Why?

A throat cleared.

Bobbi. Right.

I peeled myself off Matthew’s chest with a murmured thank you that made him go even stiffer and turned to the woman standing on my porch. “Sorry,” I said with a smile. “I got carried away there for a second. We’re still in our honeymoon phase. Right, ah, Mattsie… Boo ?”

Matthew remained silent, looking unsure again. Luckily, he shook it off quickly. “Right. Absolutely.” His gaze shifted away, falling on Bobbi. “And I take full responsibility for that.” A strange chuckle fell from his lips. “I’m Matthew. Flanagan. And this is my home. And this”—his arm swung over my shoulders—“is my woman.”

“Bobbi,” she said with a grimace. “Shark. I’m no one’s property, nor do I own anything except perhaps too much cryptocurrency, thanks to questionable financial advice.”

“Yay,” I squeaked. Loudly. “Now that that’s out of the way, and introductions are made, how about—”

“How long have you been engaged?” Bobbi asked.

Matthew huffed out a strange sound that I had to cover with an obnoxious laugh before answering, “Six blissful days.”

Bobbi’s eyes narrowed.

“It was the most romantic proposal,” I added. “My favorite, out of all of them.” I felt Matthew’s gaze falling on my profile, drilling two perfectly eye-shaped holes. “Why do you ask?”

“It’s important information,” Bobbi said with a shrug meant to be casual. It didn’t fool me. She sauntered all the way to the banister and leaned right beside one of my flowerpots. “And how did he propose, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Romantic picnic,” I immediately shot back, feeling Matthew’s arm tense around my shoulders. Bobbi’s brows arched. “At sunset,” I offered, and the way she continued to look at me plucked every word that followed right out of my chest. “We drove to a sunflower field, an hour from Green Oak. I was wearing a sundress and he was wearing a white shirt. The flimsy kind that looks effortlessly great. It compliments his bone structure.”

Bobbi’s lips pursed. “I know the type.”

“We were sipping rosé,” I continued, unstoppable. “And eating cheese he’d cut into very thin slices, just how I like, and before I knew what was happening, he was kneeling in front of me, and a teacup pig emerged from the sunflowers, tiny legs jogging in our direction. The pig stopped at Matthew’s feet, a letter attached to a bow around his neck. I unfolded the note, my heart racing with the question I knew was written there. Then he said the words, Will you do me the honor of marrying me?”

Silence followed my very elaborate proposal story, my heart racing in the middle of my chest.

“What a lucky, creative man I am,” I heard very softly beside me.

Bobbi’s head tilted to the side. “Agreed,” she quipped, climbing down a step. “Let’s circle back tomorrow. I can’t believe I’m going to say this, but it looks like I might be acting as your wedding planner, too.”

“Excuse me, our w— ” Matthew started, his arm dropping off my shoulders.

I shot him a pointed look I covered with a smile. “You’re tired. And need sleep. And there’s all that sweet love, remember? So how about we let Bobbi go, and we go inside, and we sit down and chat? Alone.”

“That’s a great idea, Josephine,” Bobbi commented, now right by our side. “You should explain everything to your fiancé. And remember not to forget the part about the big, fat, small-town wedding. Daddy’s paying, no expense spared.”

Words rose to my tongue, but the look on Matthew’s face stopped them from coming out. His gaze took me in, up and down, quickly. Shock registered, then he paled.

I looked down at myself, understanding what he saw. “I keep forgetting about that. It’s just jam,” I explained.

Matthew, who seemed a little taller and wider now that he was standing in front of me like this, wavered. And to my surprise, all he said was, “Josie?”

I frowned at him, wondering why he was saying my name like that.

Bobbi patted Matthew’s shoulder. “Congrats, champ. Let’s just hope this ring sticks. At least long enough for me to work my magic and fix this mess. But we’ll work on the details and the media angle. Tomorrow— Oh, maybe we should have the wedding in Miami? Hm, sleep on that. I will too. Now, it’s been a pleasure, but bye.”

Matthew looked at me, lips still pale, and expression miserable. Not shocked or baffled or even angry. But just… crestfallen.

My lips parted, but before I could speak, his hand was reaching out and clasping my wrist. He brought my left hand up, gently, slowly, his skin cold and clammy against mine as he turned my palm around.

“Matthew,” I started.

But that was all I managed to get out before Grandpa Moe burst through the door, hands clad in pink cleaning gloves, and an apron lined with tiny yellow stars around his waist.

“Absolutely not!” he exclaimed, arms in the air, effectively drawing the attention of every human and every animal currently residing within a thirty-foot radius of us. “My Josie is not leaving for Miami. And I’m not leaving either.” Grandpa’s eyes bore into the man who was still holding my hand. “Josie, why is that wet-looking shallot holding your hand like that? Yes, you. The one flapping his lips like some trout swimming upstream. You’re not taking nobody to Miami!”

“Jesus, Grandpa,” I warned, looking around for Bobbi, but she’d… vanished. “Could you—”

“Do not Jesus, Grandpa me,” he countered, moving to the banister. “Do you—” He stopped himself, his gaze moving behind us. “Otto Higgings!” he yelled. “Get your ass back into your house! This is nothing of your concern, you nosy, wilted prune.”

A silent curse left me under my breath. I didn’t need to turn to check if my neighbor—and Grandpa’s nemesis—was across the yard, sticking his nose in our business. Because of course he was. Of course—

Something tugged at my hand.

I refocused on Matthew, who was looking down, the little color left in his face draining. I followed the direction of his gaze with mine. My hand was still in his, upturned, and a cut was on my palm. It was barely bleeding, but some of my skin was smudged with a darker red than the one from the strawberry jam.

“Josie,” Matthew whispered. “You’re bleeding.”

“Oh,” I said, retrieving my hand and wiping the cut with the sleeve of my robe. “Don’t worry, it’s just a…” I trailed off. “Matthew?”

His eyelids were at half-mast, and before I could do anything about it, he dropped to the ground.