Chapter Thirteen Ava #3
“Great.”
“Not fancy rolls.”
“Standard rolls.”
“No bakery box with twine.”
“I wasn’t planning twine.”
“Men with charming faces always think twine is harmless.”
“I’ll avoid twine.”
“Good.”
Nate looked like he was fighting a smile again.
Ava was starting to recognize the signs. The tiny pull at the corner of his mouth. The downward glance. The way his eyes brightened before he decided whether to let it show.
That was bad.
Recognizing signs was intimacy’s annoying cousin.
“I should go,” she said.
“Okay.”
“Stop saying okay.”
“I genuinely don’t know what you want from me there.”
“Neither do I. That’s why it’s irritating.”
He laughed.
Ava turned toward the snack shack before she could enjoy it too much.
She made it four steps before Tyler appeared in her path holding a marshmallow that had been burned beyond identification.
“Ava Lane,” he said solemnly.
“Move.”
“I come in peace.”
“You’re holding a crime scene on a stick.”
“It’s a marshmallow.”
“Was.”
Tyler glanced at Nate, then back at Ava. “We have noticed tension.”
“Who is we?”
Beckett popped up behind him. “The vibe legal team.”
Ava looked at Nate. “Control your children.”
Nate stepped beside her. “They’re feral. I only know basic commands.”
“Try sit.”
“They’d think it’s a challenge.”
Tyler leaned around Nate. “Are we calling this fake dating, accidental dating, strategic dating, or emotionally compromised teamwork?”
Ava’s blood went cold.
Nate’s posture changed.
Very slightly.
But she felt it.
“None of those,” Nate said.
Tyler blinked.
Nate did not smile. “Ava helped me win the relay. I helped her deal with Trevor being weird. That is it. Nothing for the spreadsheet. Nothing for the chat. Drop it.”
The humor drained from Tyler’s face.
It was the first time all night Ava had seen him look properly serious.
“Okay,” Tyler said.
Ava blinked.
Beckett looked between them and nodded once. “Dropped.”
Nate held Tyler’s gaze for another second.
Then Tyler lifted his burned marshmallow a little. “Still want this?”
“No,” Ava said.
“Fair.”
He and Beckett left.
Ava turned to Nate.
He was looking after them, jaw tight.
“You didn’t have to do that,” she said.
“Yes, I did.”
“I can handle teasing.”
“I know.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Because you keep thinking I’m not clear on the difference between helping and rescuing.”
Ava’s breath caught.
Nate looked at her then.
The firelight moved across his face. His expression was calm, but there was nothing casual in his eyes.
“I know you can handle it,” he said. “That doesn’t mean I have to enjoy watching people make your life harder.”
Oh.
No.
Absolutely not.
Ava felt the sentence find the same soft place as before, the stray-cat place, the place that had no business lifting its head for a hockey player with intermittent smugness and standard roll strategies.
She looked away first.
Coward.
Survivor.
Both.
“One dinner,” she said.
“One dinner.”
“Rolls. No twine.”
“Rolls. No twine.”
“No kissing.”
His voice changed just enough to ruin her peace. “No kissing.”
She looked back at him.
Mistake.
Huge mistake.
Because now he was looking at her mouth.
Not for long.
Not in a way she could call out without admitting she had noticed.
But long enough.
Ava’s entire rule list burst into flames in her mind.
She took one step backward.
“Goodnight, Brennan.”
His eyes lifted to hers.
“Goodnight, Lane.”
She walked away first, because she had some self-preservation left.
Not much, apparently.
But some.
The next morning, Ava woke to three texts from her mother, one missed call from Grandma Ruthie, and a photo from Ellie of the Ridgeview Challenge comment section.
The top comment was from Tyler.
@tylernotapproved: Team One won the relay, but honestly, America won too.
Under it, Beckett had replied.
@beckettwilder: The vibe rests its case.
Griffin had replied beneath that.
@griffinhayes: Delete your accounts.
Ava groaned into her pillow.
Then her phone buzzed again.
Unknown.
For one second, her whole body locked.
She opened it.
TREVOR: Sunday dinner with the hockey boyfriend? Bold move, Aves.
Ava sat up so fast her blanket hit the floor.
Another text appeared.
TREVOR: Your mom mentioned it to my mom at church. Small world.
Ava stared at the screen.
Her room felt too bright. Too small. Too full of consequences.
Before she could decide whether to scream, block him, or throw her phone into the wall, a third text came in.
Not Trevor.
Nate.
NATE CALLAHAN: Confirming one p.m. Standard rolls. No twine. Minimal head quality.
Ava looked from Nate’s text to Trevor’s.
Then back again.
The smart choice would be to cancel.
The safe choice would be to tell her mother the truth and spend Sunday explaining herself to every woman in her family who had ever made eye contact with Trevor Hale in a grocery store.
Ava had never claimed to be smart before noon.
She typed back to Nate.
AVA: Change of plans.
His reply came almost instantly.
NATE CALLAHAN: What happened?
Ava stared at Trevor’s message one more time.
Then she typed the only answer that made sense.
AVA: Bring the good rolls.