The Fiance Dilemma (The Long Game #2)

Chapter Twelve

CHAPTER TWELVE

The hammer slipped out of my hand and hit me on the foot before dropping to the ground.

“Fudgenuggets,” I muttered, climbing down the ladder and picking the tool up off the ground.

With a sigh, I walked back to the bench Robbie had set outside the barn. Then I sat on top of it with a little jump. I’d done enough of these to know when it was time to take a break. Being perched on a ladder for an hour straight, hanging string after string of lights until my fingers were numb, usually was a hint.

I snagged the apple I’d brought as a snack from the corner of the bench and pulled out my phone to check my notifications.

There were a few messages from Bobbi, all of them different variations of are things handled for Andrew’s welcome dinner.

The answer was: duh. Although not in the way she imagined. So I replied with a thumbs-up and moved on.

Next was a message from Grandpa. He’d sent me a link earlier today, after he’d been alerted of a new post from Page Nine. It was a Filthy Reali-Tea teaser, announcing something was dropping tonight. At midnight. The drama of the internet never ceased to amaze me. Almost as much as how quick of a study Grandpa was with new technology. He was asking me how to create a burner account. I snorted at the screen and typed an answer.

JOSIE: You don’t need one of those. You’re already anonymous. And where did you learn that?

His answer was immediate.

GRANDPA MOE:

Ugh.

I should have never taught him how to create, let alone use, an Instagram account. God knew what he was plotting now. I brought the apple to my mouth, taking a bite and debating whether I should be worried or at the very least press Grandpa for more details than that thumbs-up, but a message came in the group chat.

CAMERON: Adalyn’s feeling under the weather. Won’t be able to make it to Andrew’s thing tonight. Sorry.

JOSIE: Omg, is she okay?? And don’t even worry about it. It’s nothing special. Just our midnight farmers’ market at the barn, but repurposed. The only thing you’ll miss is a banner that says WELCOME HOME.

The thought of the banner made it a little hard to swallow the apple I was chewing on. But just like I’d told myself when I pulled out the paint can: tough shit, Josie. This was still Andrew’s town, much as it was mine. And I was mayor of it, besides being his daughter, so how could I not make him a sign?

MATTHEW: Shit. Is it the stomach bug she’d mentioned the other day?

CAMERON: Yes. It’s gotten a little worse, so I’ve made the executive decision to sit this one out. She’s sleeping, otherwise she wouldn’t let me cancel. We’re sorry, but she needs to rest.

JOSIE: Ugh. I’m so sorry. That sucks. Please give her a hug? And stop saying you’re sorry. Tonight’s thing is not that special.

The only one who needed to learn that was Bobbi. But I’d take one battle at a time. I’d thought about this long and hard. I knew my town, and no one would have attended a stiff, fancy dinner. The midnight farmers’ market on the other hand? It was a hit ever since we’d hosted the first one. And I couldn’t think of a better way to welcome anyone than this.

Matthew’s words from a couple of nights ago in my kitchen returned.

We wouldn’t have an aesthetic. Beautiful things shouldn’t be boxed. It eventually dims their light.

They’d been stuck in my mind since then. Together with everything that had preceded them. Together with Matthew, his eyes, the feel of his skin under my hands, the way he made me feel. Want. It had all inspired me. Inspired me to… go rogue. To escape the cage of control that Bobbi had snapped around my life.

She wanted a welcome party for Andrew to impress Willa Wang, and so I was giving her my version of one.

My phone buzzed, recapturing my attention.

MATTHEW: Tonight will be special, though.

MATTHEW: Because you’ll be there @BabyBlue

My cheeks flushed. I… He… I snorted.

JOSIE: Did you really just text that?

MATTHEW: Too much?

CAMERON: Yes. And I’m leaving. Bye.

JOSIE: Let me know if you need us to help with anything, though! I could drive down later, check in on Adalyn and help with whatever. Grandpa opened Josie’s today. I have time.

CAMERON: Absolutely not. And you don’t have time. You have enough on your hands.

JOSIE: Maybe soup? I can send Matthew down there while I handle things up here.

MATTHEW: Yes, she can.

MATTHEW: Boss me around, @BabyBlue

CAMERON: We’re fine. And I’m really leaving if you don’t stop that. I’m still pissed.

My face fell. Together with my stomach that had just dropped to my feet. A message immediately popped up in Matthew’s chat.

MATTHEW: He’s fine. He’s just being Cam. He’s not mad at you, and he shouldn’t have said that.

JOSIE: It’s okay.

It really was. And I deserved that. I was lying to them, after all. We were. I couldn’t pretend like everything was fine and we were two couples texting in a group chat. Matthew and I weren’t really one.

MATTHEW: Where are you?

JOSIE: At the Vasquezes’.

MATTHEW: Why are you already there? It’s not even ten in the morning. Is that why Maurice opened Josie’s today?

JOSIE: Grandpa Moe opens for me when I can’t. I won’t be here all day. I was taking care of last-minute stuff for the midnight market. We have it handled.

MATTHEW: We?

JOSIE: The special events and parades committee. It’s still a town event.

MATTHEW: I’m calling you. Don’t let it ring and then text. Pick up.

My eyes widened. Wait, what? He was—

My phone rang.

With a puff of air, I brought it to my ear. “Yes, dear?”

“I thought I was clear last night.”

I suppressed a smile. “You’re not the only one with excellent selective hearing, ya know.”

He huffed out a surprised laugh. “Why am I not with you? Jog my memory.”

His words made my stomach flip-flop. But they were just that, words. “I dunno,” I said. “The laws of physics? Time? Space? It was something about all of it being relative, and depending on who you ask. But I can’t be sure.”

There was a pause, then an “I’m coming over.”

My chest filled with crazy, stupid butterflies. “Almost everything is done.”

“Then I’ll keep you company. Bring you snacks. Don’t make me beg, Baby Blue. Because I will.”

Baby Blue. The flutter multiplied, pulling at all the strings tangled around my heart. I considered what to say. How to say it. Whether I should be stubborn and say no, or na?ve and believe none of this meant a single thing. But then something occurred to me. Maybe Matthew was lonely. A rug had been swept out from under his feet and he was in a new place. Alone. And I’d been so set on what we were doing, and on bothering him as little as I could, that I’d overlooked that.

“I could use anything fuzzy and fruity.” I jumped off the bench. “No blueberry though.”

“You got it.” His voice was happy, and that made me feel… good. Like I wanted more. “What else?”

“Maybe something sweet?”

“All right.”

“And something savory too. A pretzel would be nice; it’s today’s special at Josie’s.”

The rumble of laughter that left him felt like butter against my ear. It also made me smile in return.

“You asked,” I told him. “You brought this on yourself.”

“I guess I did, yes.”

There was beat, a moment of silence in which neither of us spoke.

“Hey Matthew?” I asked.

“Yeah?”

“How’s the job hunt going?” I ventured. “Is there anything I can do to help? If you’re busy with whatever you’re doing, you don’t need to come. I know you’re freelancing from home, so—”

“I’m not busy,” he said. “I’m never too busy for important things.” There was a pause. Some of the color returned to my face. Important things. “And I haven’t found anything yet.”

“Okay,” I answered. “Okay. Yes. Will you… tell me? When you do?”

“Yes.” The pause that followed that was longer still. Then he asked, “Hey Josie?”

But before he could say more, Robbie’s shape materialized in the distance. He was walking toward the barn with a face I knew well. One that was never—ever—good news.

“Uh-oh,” I murmured into the line, distracted by the intensity of Robbie’s scowling at the ground. “Robbie’s walking over. I think there’s some kind of issue. I gotta go. Talk to you later,’kay? And don’t worry about the pretzels!”

A muttered curse made me look down from the ladder I was once again perched on.

I lowered the banner I’d been nailing to the outside wall of the barn and glanced down.

Matthew.

He was standing at the foot of the ladder, his hands braced on the side rails. The terra-cotta shirt he wore was again rolled up, as if he loved those sleeves to strain around his forearms.

“You’re here,” I said, realizing only then that my mouth had parted with a smile. My eyes trailed up his arms, chest, neck, chin, searching for… “Oh my God. What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong?” he repeated, sounding as displeased as he looked, right as his own gaze found mine. The frown that had been knotting his brows dissolved. His lips parted. He hesitated.

“Matthew?” I tilted my head. “Are you okay?”

He swallowed, as if needing a minute. Then he grumbled, “Do you know how unstable these things are?” I arched my brows in surprise. “Can’t anyone spare a minute to do whatever you’re doing up there? Or at the very least, spot you while you work? Where is Robbie? I could have come earlier if you needed me. You should have just said.”

I blinked at him for a moment, taken a little aback.

But then a fizzy feeling tickled my rib cage. He was all growly and grouchy over me being up here. Over something I could do with my eyes closed, I’d done it so many times. I bit back a smile.

“Gee, you’re grumpy.” I slipped my hammer back into the tool belt. “I can’t decide if you have a problem with ladders or me,” I continued, turning around on the step I was perched on. Matthew’s jaw clenched. “Did you drink enough water today? One gallon a day keeps the grouchiness away, you know.”

His face scrunched down. I knew he’d found that funny, I knew he had. But he was trying to stay mad. “Will you come down now?” he pleaded with a sigh. “There’s something I want to ask you and I can’t do it with you up there.”

“But I’m not done,” I complained, using my sweetest voice. “And I can talk while I work. Today I’ve spent more time up a ladder than on the ground.”

That didn’t seem to reassure him.

“It’s fine, I promise,” I insisted. “I can multitask. You ask me while I nail this sign. Oh, and then I need to check on the orange slices we’re hanging off one beam. I have Robbie sewing them together on a string. It’s going to look ah-mazing.” I braced a hand at the top and stretched my body so I could peek inside the barn. “He was right there, inside. You can go check. I’ll be here.”

Matthew cursed.

I leaned back and glanced down at Matthew. He looked like he was about to climb the ladder and join me up here. Or… I don’t know, lift the thing—with me on it—and run into the forest circling the property. It was so cute. “You’re looking so cute right now.”

“Oh yeah?” he grumbled.

“Ah-ha.”

“So you like watching me suffer?” he asked, still as grouchy. “That it, huh?”

I shrugged a casual shoulder. “Not necessarily. Did you bring the snacks?”

“They’re in the car,” he said, sounding miserable. My lips popped open. “No. I’m not going to grab them and leave you up there because you’re fine.” I rolled my eyes, and a disbelieving laugh huffed out of him. “You’re not risking your neck for a goddamn welcome sign. So tough shit, but I’m not leaving your side. Period.”

I pursed my lips in thought, debating whether that had been hot, coddling, or sweet. “Period?” I repeated.

His nostrils flared. “Period.”

“Okay.” I shrugged. His expression relaxed. “I guess that’s a good thing, then. When I’m about to do this.”

“Do wh—”

I jumped off the ladder with a squeal, incapable of keeping the expression of pure joy off my face. Matthew stiffened, and sure, maybe his soul left his body for like a second, but just like I’d anticipated, his reaction was immediate.

His arms captured me in the air, easing me against a hard chest with an ease that made the flutter in my belly even more prominent.

Warmth replaced adrenaline as my body acknowledged all the ways I was pressed against him. My chest heaved against his, my legs hiked around his waist, while two strong arms held me in place. Much like the day at the game, only there wasn’t shock this time. There wasn’t reticence or hesitation. Just butterflies.

“I’ve always wanted to do that,” I whispered, my words falling on his lips. Awareness danced in the brown of Matthew’s eyes in response as he rearranged me in his arms with a little bounce. The daisy I’d slipped in the front pocket of my overalls brushed his chin. Our faces were so, so very close, and he looked so, so very handsome in this moment, that the words toppled from my lips, “You’re wearing your glasses.”

The corner of his mouth twitched. “You’re a reckless woman. You almost gave me a heart attack.”

“Well, you lied,” I murmured, officially distracted by the glint in his eyes.

“Remind me about what.”

“It’s not clowns that terrify you the most.” I lowered my voice to a hush. “It’s clearly ladders.”

Matthew’s chuckle was a deep and rich sound, and it grazed my lips. “Maybe it is,” he said, that frown knotting his brow again. “Or maybe it’s seeing you hurt.”

Whatever amusement I’d been feeling vanished, the little space between us filling up with something else. Something a little somber, but something sincere.

Matthew lowered me to the ground slowly, a muscle in his jaw jumping when my feet touched the ground. One of his hands left my waist, coming to pluck the daisy out of the front pocket of my overalls. He slipped the wildflower into my hair. Right above my ear. And when he said, “Beauty and defiance,” a breath caught in my chest.

He remembered what I’d said that night in my kitchen, a few days ago. When he’d asked me what made me smile. Wildflowers. They’re beauty and defiance.

“It was lying on the ground,” I murmured. “It must have been dragged all the way here by one of the wheelbarrows. It’s far from perfect, with so many petals missing, but it made me sad to see it lying there, so I picked it up.”

Matthew’s smile was soft. “Perfection is subjective.”

“That’s a beautiful thing to say.” And I loved that he thought so. I loved that I did too. “You can be so articulate for someone who occasionally sounds like a caveman.” I lowered my voice to imitate a masculine tone. “Me, Matthew. Me, protect. Ladder, bad.”

“Can you blame me?” he asked, tilting his head. “You mentioned Robbie and dropped my call.”

“What does that have to do with—” I stopped myself. My brows arched. “You can’t be jealous of Robbie.”

Matthew’s lips thinned. “He gets your muffins.”

“Everyone does,” I told him. But what my mind was blasting at max volume was, he’s not denying it. Matthew is jealous and he’s not denying it.

“Not me.” A shoulder was shrugged. “I don’t.”

I laughed. Like properly threw my head back and laughed. Matthew’s expression went lax for a second before puzzling itself right back. “You’ve gone through most of my pantry. Several times. All my kale chips? Gone.”

“Does that mean only I get them?”

More laughter left me. “Are you for real?” His face said no. His eyes said yes. “Yes, Mattsie-Boo, you’re the only one who gets my kale chips.” He smiled. “No one else likes them though.”

“Fools. All of them,” he said, his expression filling up with… something that told me he was about to do something crazy. Something—

He wouldn’t do now.

Bobbi’s unmistakable blond bob jutted out from one of the stands already assembled around the barn. She was on her phone, her hand slicing through the air.

“Bobbi’s here,” I said just as she spotted us. “Ugh. She’s also coming this way.”

Matthew’s expression hardened, and he stepped back just as the woman in question appeared in front of us.

“This is chaos,” Bobbi announced, locking her phone. “You should fire your event planner.”

I sighed and adjusted my blouse sleeves in an attempt at not appearing as bothered as I was by the comment. “It’s organized chaos. And there’s no event planner to be fired. Our midnight farmers’ market is organized by Green Oak’s Special Events and Parades Committee.”

Bobbi arched her brows. “Excuse me, what?”

“Our Midnight—”

“No,” Bobbi interjected. “This is supposed to be a dinner. A welcome party. For Andrew. Why am I hearing the words Midnight and Farmers’ and Market ?”

Out of the corner of my eye, I felt Matthew stiffening, so I made sure to sound appeasing. “Because you asked me to organize it. And this is Green Oak’s welcome party for Andrew. And there’s nothing more Green Oak than our famous midnight farmers’ market. So…”

“So this is not what we talked about,” Bobbi scoffed. “Did you not read the description I added to the planner?” She pitched her voice down as if reciting something from memory. “Casual dinner to celebrate Andrew’s return and launch wedding preparations. Ideally, should match wedding theme. Preferably in a local restaurant. Alternatively, with catering service that showcases the town’s cuisine. Objectively, a smooth reintroduction of father of the bride into community with mingling potential. It’s clear enough.”

I swallowed. “Well, I’m afraid I’ve gone a little rogue.”

Dark scowling eyes held mine for a tense moment. “Is this rogue thing supposed to explain why the barn looks like a rainbow hurled all over the place? Who runs this committee? I need to talk to them.” Her expression hardened. “Is it Roberto?”

“I’m in charge,” I told her with a smile. “I’m chair, deputy chair, secretary, and treasurer of the committee. And I think the barn looks fantastic. And hey,” I added, pointing at the spot above the ladder. “We’ll have a welcome sign for Andrew. And a sitting area for whoever wants to eat any of the amazing local produce, so technically, almost everything you asked for is here. It’s all a matter of perspective.”

“You played me,” Bobbi stated.

“You played me first,” I countered with a little scoff. “You sprung this thing on me. In front of Willa Wang. And I’m a little done with being ordered around. Maybe it’s time you see how we do things in Green Oak, you know?”

Bobbi’s eyes narrowed. “I’d be annoyed if I weren’t a little impressed.” She tilted her head. “No. I’m definitely annoyed. You don’t play Bobbi Shark.” She glanced at the man to my right. “And what are you smirking about, Blondie?”

“Just quietly happy. Seeing my woman handing you your ass, is all.”

My brows shot up. “That is not what I’m doing. I’m not handing anyone any ass. I promise.”

Bobbi appraised us—or maybe me—for a few seconds. “Okay,” she finally said. “Do it your way.” She turned around. “I can do the same.”