Chapter 18
Natalie
Tip #18: Remember, fake dating isn’t about convincing everyone you’re in love. It’s about surviving the awkward moments with your dignity mostly intact.
“ G oodbye, Marjorie,” I said.
The used book sale had just wrapped up for the night, and after what Samuel put me through, I felt like a dirty dish towel. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“You’ll see me and half of Fox Creek,” Marjorie said. “Everyone will want to get a look at that ring on your finger!”
I tried to make an intelligent reply, but all I could get out were strangled noises.
Out of words to speak, I stared blankly at the floor. The library lobby was aglow with soft, golden light that balanced out the plain tile floor. I could see the parking lot through the glass doors lining the front of the lobby. At the back of the room was another row of automatic glass doors leading into the library proper, where rows of books beckoned with promises of escaping my complicated thoughts and feelings.
“Good night, Marjorie.” Samuel’s voice dripped with charm, but I noticed a hint of smugness in his smile that I couldn’t quite place.
“Night, lovebirds,” Marjorie replied slyly, her hairdo tilting alarmingly as she walked away. “Enjoy your engagement!”
Samuel chuckled as he slipped on his wool coat. I, not as amused, watched Marjorie while I zipped up my puffy black parka, shivering at the thought of stepping outside into the cold. The second the automatic doors closed behind Marjorie, I pounced.
“Samuel,” I snapped, my voice livid, though more playful than truly enraged. “Start. Talking.”
“About what?” Samuel asked.
“About proposing when we’re just pretending to be dating and about using your grandmother’s ring to do it!” My voice’s pitch went higher and higher as anxiety built in my gut.
We were in so much trouble.
Instead of responding, Samuel’s arms snaked around me, pulling me into a hug. My heart raced as my cheek bumped against his chest.
“Wh-what are you doing?”
“Relax.” Samuel’s breath tickled my ear. “If you want to murder me, you’ll have to wait until we’re not being watched. There are a few librarians still manning the checkout desk since the library hasn’t closed yet, and they can see us.”
My back was to the library’s inner sanctum, so I’d have to take his word for it.
“Of course there are,” I grumbled. “This town is too nosy—someone is always watching.” I cleared my throat and tried to ignore the impulse to melt into his inviting hug. “But seriously, what were you thinking? Proposing like that?”
“Ah, well...” Samuel began, his voice suddenly sounding less confident. “I didn’t exactly think it through.”
“Clearly,” I said. “So. What’s your excuse?”
As we stood there, wrapped up in each other, a flicker of something more than annoyance sparked deep within me. It was something I didn’t want to examine too closely as I suspected I wasn’t going to like what it was.
“You see, I might have overdone the whole ‘I’m in love with my enemy’ act,” he said. “My family started asking when we’d get engaged.” He grinned and looked oddly pleased with himself.
“Are you serious?” I tried to step out of his embrace, but he firmly held onto me, his eyes darting toward the librarians behind me. Sighing, I decided to let it go for now. “Your family’s enthusiasm was the sole reason for proposing?”
“Partially,” he admitted sheepishly. “My mother had already started telling her friends that we were all but engaged, and?—”
“Samuel,” I interrupted, my voice flat, “you’re a sellout.”
“That’s harsh,” Samuel said, his grip on me tightening just a bit. “Especially since you’re partially responsible for this, too, you know.”
“Oh, really? Enlighten me as to how your deciding to propose to me—which is going to make it a lot harder for us to break up without reigniting the fight between our families—is partially my fault!” I puffed up with my irritation like a hissing cat.
“It’s because you did too good of a job winning my family over.”
“What?” I snorted in disbelief. “That’s ridiculous!”
“Is it, though?” Samuel asked. “My grandfather practically threw my grandmother’s ring at me and all but ordered me to propose to you. They’re smitten with you, Nat.”
I was about to give Samuel a sarcastic response, but he continued. “And why wouldn’t they be? You’re delightful and lovely—addictive, even.”
That was certainly not what I expected him to say, and surprisingly it lacked the usual charismatic charm he used to manipulate others.
I stared up into his eyes, searching for any hint of insincerity. All I saw was genuine affection shining back at me. It touched something deep within me. Knowing our history, these were about the highest compliments Samuel could have given me.
“Fine,” I conceded softly, feeling an unexpected warmth spreading through me. “I still don’t get why you had to do it, but it obviously makes sense to you. However! Next time you have to do something drastic, please. For the love of all things holy. Call me first and warn me!”
“Deal,” he agreed.
I smiled up at him, my grin involuntary and impossible to suppress. Samuel’s expression shifted, his eyes softening in a way I couldn’t quite place. Before I could analyze it further, he leaned down and pressed his lips against mine.
The kiss was spontaneous, natural, and lingering, like the heat of a crackling fire in the fireplace on a wintry night. It felt different from the one after he proposed. It was more genuine, more intense. I didn’t understand how it could feel genuine—this was all an act. But as our lips parted, I was suddenly aware of how much longer this kiss had lasted than the first.
“Personal boundaries, Samuel,” I chided, eyebrows raised. “Ever heard of them?”
“The librarians are still watching us through the glass doors,” he said casually, as if that justified everything.
I narrowed my eyes. “I’m not sure I believe you.”
“Does it matter?” he asked with a shrug. “You enjoyed the kiss too, didn’t you?”
My cheeks flushed scarlet. I had enjoyed it—more than I should have.
I pulled myself free from his arms and stomped toward the library entrance.
“Wait, my love!” Samuel called dramatically, his voice forlorn and full of fake despair. I refused to look back at him, still embarrassed by my slip in self-control. “Don’t leave me. Darling. Babe!”
“Can it, Sam,” I ordered with the long-suffering that came hand in hand with being friends with someone as intelligent and wickedly funny as Samuel.
“But you’re breaking my heart with every step you take away from me,” he lamented theatrically.
I walked faster.
As I neared the lobby doors to the wintry outside, it occurred to me that while our initial goal was to influence our families and stop the Manns and Warners from fighting, something had changed between the two of us.
Before I could make my hasty escape through the library’s automatic doors, Samuel caught up to me, his long strides easily closing the gap between us.
“Are you running the book sale tomorrow morning?” he asked. Apparently he’d left the dramatics behind.
“Not first thing in the morning. I’ll be here around lunchtime, though, to relieve the morning volunteers,” I said. “Why? Are you planning to come and cause trouble?”
“For once, no.” Samuel slid his hands into the pockets of his coat. “But I figured I should ask. My family will expect me to know the location of my fiancée at all times.” He hesitated. “Are you heading home now?”
“Yep,” I said. “Tomorrow is a Saturday, but I’ll have to get up early, so I’d better head to bed soon.”
“Why the early alarm?” Samuel asked.
“Because I’ll have to stop by my parents’ now, because someone gave me this!” I held my hand up and tapped his grandmother’s ring for emphasis.
Samuel laughed. “I see. In that case, I’ll walk you to your car.”
“Thanks.” I double-checked my puffy coat was properly zipped. “What about you? What are you doing for the rest of tonight?”
“I have to return to Warner Print for a final meeting.”
“Work?” I replied, scandalized. “But it’s after eight! You couldn’t possibly have any work that important to do on a Friday night!”
“Ah, but I do.” He grinned. “I need to brief Miguel about a very important development.”
“Is it about the luxury condos you Warners want to build in the old middle school?” I asked, my voice laced with apprehension and dread. The last thing Fox Creek needed was more drama between our families.
His eyebrows shot up in genuine surprise, and confusion flashed across his face. “No, it has nothing to do with the middle school.”
I let out a sigh of relief. “Good,” I said firmly. “Don’t work too late, though. You should be off already, you know.”
“Don’t worry about me.” He winked. “It’ll be a celebration, actually.”
Samuel leaned down, moving into my personal space.
I instinctively hunched my shoulders and narrowed my eyes at him. “If you’re going in for another kiss, I swear I’ll bite your lip.”
He threw his head back and laughed. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
He was still laughing as he pressed a gentle kiss to my forehead, the scrape of his scruff against my skin making me overly aware of him.
I automatically hugged him in return. It wasn’t until I was stepping back that I realized that two weeks ago a kiss on the forehead would have been enough to make me sputter.
It was unsettling how easily I now accepted these public displays of affection. I had to be careful, or he was going to get me used to kissing him too.
I wasn’t in love with Samuel, but between noticing all the great things about him I’d blocked out before because of my previous dislike and being aware of exactly how handsome he was…
No.
No. I wasn’t going to go there. We’d achieved peace between our families, and now we were friends. That was more than I ever thought we’d be. I’d leave the Warner-Mann romance to Owen and Jenna.
“Come on.” Samuel took my hand in his, pulling me from my thoughts. “Let’s get you to your car.”
“Thanks.”
We stepped through the front doors and out into the cold night. The darkness was interrupted by the occasional pool of light the streetlights were casting, but there thankfully was no howling wind.
Samuel, ever the cheeky one, grinned down at me. “So, how do you feel about making out in public?”
“Absolutely not and if you ever try it, I’ll crash the next Warner Print board meeting and call you sweetums in front of everyone.”
“Ouch.” Samuel winced, feigning hurt. “You play mean, Nat.”
“Yup.”
Samuel swung our linked hands. “It’s a good thing, then, that I like it when you play mean.”
“You just don’t know when to quit,” I said, determined to keep my feelings compartmentalized. For my own sake.