Chapter 28
Magnolia
So, maybe truck driving isn’t one of my life skills.
Was it really my fault that the calf was right next to the fence, and it was so cute that I had to look at it?
I guess maybe it would be considered distracted driving, but how do you explain that?
You couldn’t call it a DUI. Maybe driving under the influence while looking at cute cows. I don’t know.
All that to say, I was embarrassed, but I also couldn’t help but laugh at the scared looks on their faces when we came to a stop in the ditch. It wasn’t even a crash. It was just a little two-wheels-off-the-road kind of situation—nothing to stress about.
I bounce my leg up and down, trying to distract from the fact that I’m sitting in the middle seat, pressed up against Nash while he drives.
Nash reaches over and rests a hand on my bouncing knee. Okay, I guess I’m driving him crazy with that too.
I know he didn’t want me on this trip, but this is my chance.
What if this is my chance? What if I fall in love with Pine Ridge?
What if I fall in love with Nash? I suck in a sharp breath and banish the thought. Now is not the time to ponder my feelings for my fake fiancé.
Tonight, I’m going to try to get a feel for the town and see how many people are actually here. This would be my long shot, but Piper landed that business loan for us, so what better use of my time?
I’ll break up with Nash when we get back, and maybe by then, we’ll be all set to start our business here in Pine Ridge. Or maybe I’ll decide this isn’t the place for me. Either way, we’ll go our separate ways and never have to pretend again.
Why does that make my stomach hurt?
Maybe I’m just hungry. I haven’t eaten anything all day besides some powdered creamer and some coffee.
“Do you know if the market will be open tonight?” I ask. “To have some kind of breakfast food in the house. I would even take a Pop-Tart at this point.”
“Don’t worry. Even if it’s not open, I’ve got a key,” says Max.
“You have a key to the market?”
“They trust me with the key, and I just put everything on my tab. So, if you want to grab some food since Nash didn’t even think about needing to feed you”—he shoots a glare at Nash—“we’ll just run in and put it on my tab.”
“I would really appreciate that. Turns out, I’m really grouchy when I don’t get breakfast.”
“I think you’re grouchy even if you get breakfast,” Nash says.
I reach over and pinch his thigh—a nearly impossible feat with his thick blue jeans. “Is that the way to talk to your fiancée?”
“Are you trying to pinch my leg?” He latches on to my knee, squeezing.
I shriek, accidentally hitting Nash’s leg on the gas pedal. Nash guns it a little bit and then slows down.
“You’re determined to get us in a wreck, aren’t you sweetheart?” Nash asks.
I gulp as I try to come up with a quick retort.
My brilliant come back disappears as Nash turns off the highway and pulls into the town of Pine Ridge.
It’s picturesque to say the least. Some of the houses stretch up a small hillside, while the main parts of town are on a flat section of land.
We pass a general store, a gas station, and several buildings that I don’t get a clear look at.
The lights in town are shining brightly as dusk settles in.
“I am really excited about these fries,” I tell them.
Nash grins and steps on the gas. He pulls past the market that looks like it’s closed, then passes the small café, which is also dark, and then stops in front of a saloon, for lack of a better word.
The building looks like it’s about to fall over—like one good huff and puff from the Big Bad Wolf would do it—but he parks and jumps out, offering his hand to help me down.
My legs are feeling a little better, thank goodness, and I do a little stretch before we walk toward the building.
“I feel like there’s gonna be a gunfight that breaks out here,” I whisper to them.
“Oh, don’t worry. The last gunfight was five years ago, when the lumber buyer caught his wife cheating with the delivery guy.”
“What?” I ask in disbelief.
“The driver still walks with a limp,” Max says. “Slowed up his delivery time a bit, but still faithful. About the only thing he is faithful to.”
Both Nash and Max throw back their heads and burst out laughing like this is the funniest joke they’ve ever told. Whoever said boys grow up has not spent time with two men who are best friends, watching the birth of dad jokes.
Nash lets us me and Max walk in first.
Country music is playing, the smell of warm food fills the air, and there are families in here. I look around; it’s not exactly the bar or saloon I was expecting. Bars are twenty-one and over.
Nash points to the actual bar and the sign hanging above the mirror.
Twenty-one and older seated at the bar only. Kids have to eat at the tables.
It’s a hand-painted sign, but the font is neat and clear. I guess that works.
There’s a small crowd and the hum of conversations.
Nash leads the way to a small table toward the back of the building, and Max and I follow him there.
It’s not a straight shot to get there. Nash has to stop and say hello to several people, and he pauses to greet another rancher who’s sitting with his wife and daughter—at least I assume that’s who they are.
The girl has dark hair and a warm smile, and she jumps up to shake my hand. She’s a few years younger than me, so somewhere in her early twenties. I glance at Max and then back at Nash and realize that I’m standing closer to Nash.
“Hi, I’m Bliss. Are you Max’s girlfriend?” She smiles brightly at me. “I’d heard he was dating someone but hadn’t met you yet.”
I shake my head. “Oh no. I’m not—I’m not with Max.”
Her eyebrows shoot up. “You must be with Nash, then.”
“Well, not really,” I start, because we don’t have to pretend here.
But then Nash steps in behind me and rests an arm on my shoulders.
“Bliss, this is my fiancée, Magnolia,” he says dryly.
He leans over and whispers in my ear, “Grandpa talks to his friends in Pine Ridge a lot, so I’m sure the rumor mill might get back to him if we don’t pretend to be engaged.”
It doesn’t look like she believes anything we say now, and I don’t blame her.
I lift my hand by way of explanation. “And I haven’t decided if I’m gonna keep him.”
Her eyes drop to the ring on my finger.
“Make sure you keep that,” she says, “because it is beautiful.”
“He has good taste. He picked it out by himself,” I say as I rest a hand against his arm.
He looks at me warmly, and my stomach drops.
I want him to look at me like that all the time. There are moments where it’s easy to forget the faking. And there are moments where I think that he truly sees me, that it’s not just an act.
And I don’t think I can live with myself if I never know for sure if we could be anything more. But what if I say something and ruin everything?