Chapter 7
Shelly
Real relationships weren’t built on spring festivals and big dates.
They were built in the ordinary spaces in between, and that was what I wanted Amos to understand.
So on a Tuesday evening after my shift at Bookish, a few weeks after we started our fake dating plan, I texted him five words: Red Oak Market. Date night.
He showed up in ripped jeans and a worn flannel that had seen better days, his muddy work boots still carrying the evidence of a long day on the mountain.
Sawdust clung to his sexy frame, and somehow he still looked like he’d walked off a magazine cover.
It wasn’t fair.
The market was small and familiar, the way everything was in Red Oak Mountain.
The faint scent of freshly baked bread drifted over from the bakery corner, and bundles of dried herbs hung near the entrance alongside locally made preserves.
The days of our fake dating agreement had rolled along too quickly, and we were more than halfway through it already. Amos didn’t know it, but he was actually the perfect boyfriend.
Although the lack of sex was getting harder. Even I had to admit that. Last night on my couch we’d gotten particularly steamed up, before Mina had come home unexpectedly, halting us in our tracks.
It had just been one kiss, but my god, what a kiss.
If she hadn’t come home, we might have tumbled into my bed together.
My pussy was begging me to please, please, please rent a motel room with this man since we didn’t have anywhere private we could go.
Amos grabbed a squeaky cart before I could and pushed it ahead of him with one hand, lazy and easy, like he’d been grocery shopping with me his whole life.
“Romaine lettuce,” I said, dropping a head into the cart.
He peered down at it with deep suspicion. “That’s rabbit food.”
“It’s a salad.”
“For rabbits.”
“If you ever get married, your wife is going to make you eat rabbit food. You might as well practice tonight.”
His eyes grazed across mine as he growled, “Will you marry me if I promise to eat your rabbit food?”
“Sure, Amos. That was a perfect proposal. Um, you’re going to need to work on it. Women expect diamonds, not a promise to eat salads.” I laughed and reached past him for a bag of cherry tomatoes.
His hand came to rest briefly at the small of my back as he leaned in to look over my shoulder. He probably didn’t even realize he’d done it, but I felt his touch everywhere.
Just that simple intimacy set off fireworks inside me.
That was the thing about spending time with Amos in ordinary places. He was tender in ways that the rest of Red Oak Mountain never got to see, and every small moment felt like a revelation as I dug deeper into what made this man tick.
And that was the problem.
The more I saw of him, the harder it would be to let him go.
It was hard to stay in the present moment when a deadline was ticking over our heads.
I spotted our friend Kelly across the store, counting canned goods on a shelf near the end of the aisle, and I touched Amos’s arm. “I’ll be right back.”
He gave Kelly a big wave from across the store and hollered, “Look! She’s making me eat rabbit food! If that’s not love I don’t know what is!”
He was so loud that Mrs. Tuttle, who was hard of hearing, started tittering. She gave me a cheeky look as she wheeled by and said, “Shelly, dear. You need to marry that man.”
“I’ll keep it in mind,” I told her as she disappeared down the next aisle.
Kelly put her tablet down when I reached her, taking a pause in her ordering.
“Well, look at you,” she said warmly. “You finally tamed him.”
“He is not tame,” I said. “Look at him.”
We both turned to look at the man in question.
Amos had helped himself to a banana, which he was currently using as a microphone while he danced in front of the sugar display, belting out Pour Some Sugar On Me with absolutely zero shame.
His dark hair was tousled and wild, and his ripped jeans were giving off rock star energy. That vibe was only slightly undercut by his muddy work boots and the old flannel shirt hanging open over his t-shirt.
His hips moved with that loose, confident rhythm I’d seen a thousand times.
He was always hopping up on stages and doing a little song and dance for a bit of fun.
With the way women swooned over him, the man probably could have been famous if he’d had any inclination in that direction.
But Amos seemed content with the small-town life of a logger. It was one of the things I liked about him.
He spotted us watching him and put a little extra swagger in the roll of his hips, singing to us now instead of the produce aisle.
Kelly and I both dissolved into laughter at the same time.
“See what I mean?” I managed to say when I could talk again. “He cannot be tamed.”
Kelly wiped her eyes and gave me a warm, knowing smile. “I don’t know about that. He looks half-tamed to me.” She tilted her head. “I’m predicting marriage in less than a year.”
Wouldn’t that be something?
A warm and dangerous hope swept through my chest, and I let it sit for one second before I shut it down.
“Are you coming to the Mountain Man book club tomorrow night?” I asked, trying to change the subject.
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” She leaned in slightly. “Is it true you two are officially a thing now? Because the whole town is talking.”
I didn’t love lying to my friends. It sat wrong every time I had to do it.
“We’ve just been trying things out,” I said carefully. “It’s only been a few weeks.”
Kelly smiled. “Well, you better figure it out fast. This town moves quick. People are already placing bets.”
My stomach tightened. “Bets?”
“On whether he’s going to break your heart,” she said bluntly.
I let out a soft laugh as if that didn’t hit somewhere uncomfortable. “Sounds about right.”
Kelly rubbed my shoulder. “Oh, Shelly, it must be hard.”
We both knew what she was talking about. It wasn’t a question of if Amos was going to break my heart, but when.
Kelly knew all about my thirty-day agreement with the man.
My closest girlfriends knew this whole thing had an expiration date, which I was trying very hard not to think about.
Thirty days had seemed like plenty of time when I proposed it. Now it felt like sand running through my fingers faster than I could catch it.
Damn it. I wanted more time. I wanted all the time.
“Aw,” Kelly said suddenly, her voice dropping. “Who do you think that woman is?”
I turned.
A woman I didn’t know had appeared in the produce section.
The second Amos spotted her, his whole face broke open into a grin, and he crossed the space in three long strides before pulling her into a hug that lifted her slightly off her feet.
She laughed and patted his back, then pulled away and planted a kiss on his cheek, her hands cupping his face for a moment.
And something in my chest tightened.
I wasn’t used to seeing him light up like that for someone who wasn’t me.
It was just enough to remind me I didn’t have any real claim on him.
Not outside our little agreement.
But she was so much older than him.
I’d seen Amos go after all kinds of women over the years. But I’d never seen him with an older woman. At least not one that was twenty years older.
“Do you think that’s his mom?” I pondered.
Kelly gasped softly. “Maybe! I don’t think I’ve ever heard him mention her.”
“He doesn’t talk about family much.”
He’d mentioned his family exactly twice in all the years I’d known him, in the quiet dark of that night at the logging camp, his voice stripped of its usual swagger. And once more at the spring festival, when he’d confided that he hadn’t been close to his dad.
“Go say hi,” Kelly urged, nudging my arm.
My stomach flip-flopped. “I don’t know. That’s a big step, isn’t it?”
Kelly pushed me in their direction and hissed, “Go!”
Feeling awkward, I pushed the cart back toward him.
Amos looked up when he heard the wheels squeaking, his face lighting up.
He growled, “Come meet my mom.”
With nerves in my belly, I said, “Hi, I’m Shelly. I’m a fr—”
The woman turned to me with bright, sharp eyes and a smile that was pure Amos.
“Oh, I know who you are, Shelly-Rae,” she interrupted. “Amos has been talking about you for years. You’re my only hope for grandbabies.”
My breath caught.
That wasn’t fake-dating territory anymore.
That was… something else entirely.
I looked at Amos, my brows shooting to my hairline. “Really?”
A light flush crept up his neck and into his wooly beard.
“Ma,” his voice came out pained. “Don’t scare her off.”
His mother raised her eyebrows at him, unbothered. “Is it true you two are dating?”
“Where’d you hear that?” he asked.
She gave him a look that suggested the question was beneath her. “The whole town. You think I could have heard it from my own son first.”
Amos glanced at me, his eyes softening, and then he slung his arm around my waist and pulled me in against his side. “We’re giving it a shot.”
His mom took both my hands in hers and squeezed them with a warmth that went straight through me. I could see where Amos got his charisma from. “Just remember what I said. I want grandbabies. And they’re currently overdue.”
Then she kissed Amos on the cheek and patted his face again. “Bye, baby boy. Sunday dinner? You better be there.”
He growled, low and affectionate, “You know I never miss it.”
Then she looked at me, her eyes piercing straight into my soul. “And you better be there too, Shelly-Rae. You hear me now?”
There was only one appropriate answer to that. “Yes, ma’am.”
She grinned at me, then looked at Amos and said, “Don’t fuck it up. Shelly’s got class.”
We watched her go, and Amos grabbed the cart as we finished our grocery shopping.
I kept sneaking looks at him, turning over what I’d just seen. The flush on his cheeks and the easy warmth in his voice when he’d spoken to her.
“I had no idea you’re a mama’s boy,” I said.
He winked at me. “Momma’s gotta come first.”
Then he leaned down and dropped a quick kiss right on my lips. “But you can be my number two for life, Shelly Bear.”
My face went warm, and I looked down at the cart, fussing with the grocery list on my phone so he wouldn’t see exactly how strongly that landed on me.
Amos frowned for a second. "Don't believe a word she says. She's already got three granddaughters. She's just gunning for more."
I laughed at that. My mom was the same way. She'd been ready for me to settle down the day I turned twenty-one.
“Uh, I understand if you don’t want me to come over for Sunday dinner.” I didn’t want Amos to feel trapped.
But he looked at me with an expression so serious, “You don’t want to come?”
“Oh, I do. But I didn’t want to presume, you know, because…”
Amos threw his arm over my shoulder. Then he ran his lips across my cheek before whispering in my ear, “I’d love it if you came to my momma’s house for Sunday dinner, Shell.”
Then he pulled back to look at me, his lips only inches from mine. “Promise me you’ll come?”
His eyes were fixed on me, and I almost swooned in place.
“Yeah, yes,” I said breathlessly, as his mouth hovered dangerously close.
Was he going to kiss me?
Kissing was off-limits. It wasn’t part of the deal.
But we’d done plenty of kissing on my couch.
I tipped my chin up as his lips found mine. Then I dropped the apple I was holding, as he gripped me tight and kissed me the same way he had last night.
Oh, holy hell, this man was going to ruin me right here in the middle of the produce aisle.
We only pulled apart when Kelly’s fiancé, Brady, came around the corner. He laughed when he saw us and hollered, “Get a room!”
Easier said than done.
“I thought we said no kissing after last night.”
Amos gave me the most bittersweet smile. “I guess I forgot that part.”
I couldn’t tell anymore where the fake dating ended and the real Amos began.
And that would have been fine…
if this wasn’t all scheduled to end in a matter of days.
Our thirty days would run out soon.
And I had no idea what would happen to us when it did.