Chapter 14
Ari
Church in Autumn Ridge has never been quiet.
Not really.
Even now, as Pastor Bruce delivers announcements from the pulpit, whispers still travel through the chapel like wind through dry leaves.
And today? Today the whispers are absolutely about me. Tiny glances and tilted heads. People pretending not to stare while very obviously staring and judging.
Apparently, straddling the principal at a football game really leaves an impression on a small town.
I sit stiffly between my mom and Landrie in our usual pew, pretending to read the church bulletin while my mother radiates disappointment beside me.
We’re not exactly speaking—not after I kissed Wade in our kitchen last night, just to defy her. At least I’m living up to my name as the world’s most aggravating daughter. We all have our roles.
The chapel doors creak open at the back of the room. I don’t even have to look to know who it is. But I do look, even though we know curiosity killed the cat.
His gaze sweeps the room once before landing directly on me.
Then he grins and starts walking toward our pew.
Crap.
My mom notices too, because her body goes rigid beside me.
There are exactly two inches of available bench space left in our row.
Surely, Wade sees that.
Surely, he’ll sit with his own family.
Instead, Wade slides into the pew, climbing over Jaxon and Landrie like he owns the place. He wiggles his way into the spot next to me, thigh slamming against mine. Solid and entirely too much man for one tiny church pew.
“Morning, sweetheart,” he whispers like we’ve been married for twelve years.
I elbow him hard in the ribs.
Unfortunately, there’s nowhere for him to move away to.
Landrie suppresses a smile on his other side while my mom stares straight ahead at the pulpit like she’s praying for strength.
Every part of us is touching like our own romantic version of “Head, Shoulders, Knees, and Toes.”
I become painfully aware of stupid things.
Like how warm he is. How clean he smells.
How big his thigh muscles are. Then his arm slides behind me along the back of the pew because there genuinely isn’t enough room otherwise.
Except, now his fingers trail over my shoulder, and instead of just leaving them there, lifeless, he brushes my hair back so it’s out of the way.
For what purpose? I know not, just that I’m in a sleeveless dress, and there’s plenty of free skin for Wade’s fingers to draw continuous circles over my shoulder bone.
And it’s delightful.
His attention stays forward toward Pastor Bruce, but there’s a smugness to the corner of his mouth that tells me he knows exactly what he’s doing.
The pew in front of us creaks.
The Ednas have fully turned around—not subtly either. Their entire bodies are twisted backward as they stare at Wade smashed beside me, hugging me close with his arm around my shoulder.
Wade notices. “Ah,” he murmurs in my ear, which is another sensory thing more intense than the shoulder thing.
“In the front row, we have Edna G. and Edna B. craning for a better angle. Strong neck extension from both gossipers today. But who will come away with the better story to spread to the rest of the town?”
My lips twitch. “Stop.”
“Edna B. appears emotionally overwhelmed by the seating arrangement, while Edna G. appears to like the physical contact. And would you look at that? Edna whispers to neighboring audience members. Fantastic speed. Veteran form.”
I bite the inside of my cheek to stop smiling.
Across the aisle, Linda Tolman narrows her eyes at us over the rim of her reading glasses. Pam Vasser follows her gaze immediately.
“Ohhh,” Wade whispers, keeping up his sports announcer persona. “Linda Tolman is entering the gossip mill with a disapproving stare. It’s rated a solid 9.4.”
“You’re going to get us kicked out of church.”
“Pam Vasser…strong disapproval from her as well, but she’s forced to turn her attention back to her pastor husband, even if he’s boring and bland.”
A tiny laugh escapes me before I can stop it.
His eyes flick sideways immediately.
Victory flashes there, like making me laugh was the entire goal.
And maybe it was.
My mother hears the semblance of whispers and leans over me with a cutting gaze for Wade.
“Big development.” His lips physically brush against my earlobe as his whisper goes softer. “Barb Langford appears moments away from excommunicating me. Or perhaps she’s just mentally measuring my grave.”
“Keep talking, and she’ll start digging it.”
A laugh rumbles low in his chest.
The sound vibrates through his chest.
And now I’m enjoying making him laugh.
Is this how fake relationships go?
Farther up the pews, Archer Kade glances back at us too. His expression shows surprise over how quickly I get around. Thursday blind date with him. Friday night straddles. And Sunday, a brand-new relationship. I’ve had quite the weekend.
“Oof,” Wade whispers. “Ex-rodeo cowboy seems hurt by the new boyfriend. Tough break for him.”
This makes me bite my lip, even though I highly doubt Archer is disappointed. He’s not interested in me—our forced date made that clear.
“And now,” Pastor Bruce says from the pulpit, “we’d like to invite the choir up to the front to sing a hymn.”
There’s some shuffling as a few people stand and shimmy their way through their rows. Beside me, Wade stands.
He turns to me with his hand extended. “Let’s do this.”
The giant V between my brows should be answer enough, but just in case he doesn’t read me, I shake my head vehemently.
Then he says the three words I’ve never been able to resist. “I dare you.”
I’m not a singer, nor do I know anything about reading sheet music, but there’s a pause—a moment where I actually consider going up there with Wade.
But I don’t.
I shake my head again, adding a sly smile.
I’d rather watch him do this dare on his own.
He shrugs like he’s unaffected by my challenge and walks up to the front with the other choir members. Kory Saunders, the local plumber, shares his hymnbook with him since Wade came up empty-handed.
Sharon Price plays the opening piano notes to the song. I suck in an excited breath.
Then the choir starts.
Wade is clearly lost, but his confidence doesn’t waver. He tries to follow along, his voice going low when it should’ve gone high. The dark-haired Edna looks around the other choir members to give him a stern warning, but he lifts his chin and looks directly at me.
He’s not pulling silly faces.
No.
There’s commitment to the choir. He’s flashing serious singing expressions like this church choir means more to him than anything else in his entire life. Others in the audience wouldn’t pick up on it. But I do.
And before I can stop myself, laughter slips out of me in the form of a giggle.
My mom nudges my side as a warning, but that somehow makes it worse.
I cover my mouth and look down because if I keep staring at Wade in his theatrical debut, I’ll never make it through this song without completely losing it.
A woman only has so much control.
But it’s during that musical number that I realize this is the best church service I’ve ever been to, and I owe it all to Wade.
“Wade”—Pastor Bruce shakes his hand as we exit the chapel—“we really enjoyed having you join the choir this morning.”
I watch as Wade smoothly smiles back at the man. “I enjoyed it too.”
“Will we see you at choir practice this Thursday?” he asks as we continue down the steps.
“Unfortunately, the girls’ soccer team has a game that evening or else I would’ve loved to come.”
“Nice try. You don’t go to the soccer games,” I say to him as we walk away.
“What are you talking about? I go to every home game. Zoey is on the team, and she’s a student I’m a little concerned about.”
“Oh, she has bad grades?”
“No, she has a bad home life.” His shoulders lift, not in a braggy way, but in a way that tells me he's sincere. “I go to the games to support her so she knows at least one person in the stands is there for her.”
This kicks me in the heart. It’s not that I thought Wade was a bad principal; I just keep getting surprised by what a good one he is. Maybe I’ve been judging him based on his past reputation, even though I hate when people do that to me.
“So what did you think about the service today?” His grin is wide and proud.
“About your choir performance?”
“No, about the whole thing? Isn’t a small-town church service just the best thing in the world? Everybody knows everyone. It’s friendly and charming.”
A slow smile spreads across my lips.
He puffs out a soft laugh. “What?”
“Wade, I think you love Autumn Ridge more than you love anything else.”
“That’s probably true. Now I just need to convince you to love it here.”
I don’t know why my loving Autumn Ridge is such a big deal to him.
“Eh.” I scrunch my nose. “Tough to love a place when everybody here judges you.”
“They’re not judging. They’re interested in your life. There’s a big difference.”
“If that’s how you need to rationalize it so you can sleep better at night.”
“It’s not a rationalization. It’s true.”
While I don’t hold the same tender feelings for this town as he does, I can admit that today at church was nice.
“Hug me,” Wade commands from out of nowhere.
“Hug you?”
“Yeah.” He nods toward the parking lot. “Your mom’s watching us.”
“That’s so like her. But we can’t just hug in front of the church. That will look so forced.”
“Then I’ll hug you.”
I don’t see it coming. One second, there’s space between us, and the next, Wade’s arms are around me, solid and warm even through the layers of clothes.
And he smells unfairly good, like smelling good was something Wade did on purpose.
A subtle freshness, but not in a bottled way.
More like soap and a trace of something darker underneath.
“It would help if you hugged me back.” His deep voice rumbles low by my ear, throwing me off a little, but I obey and lift my arms.
My hands land between his shoulders and don’t quite know where to settle. There’s more of him than I expected—solid muscles shifting under his shirt that I didn’t account for.
And what about his arms?
The way they envelop me should be studied, dissected, and taught. I’m fully his, wrapped in this hug, and I’d be lying if I said it didn’t feel amazing. I can’t remember the last time I felt this safe being held like this.
“See?” His whispers tickle my skin. “This isn’t that bad.”
It’s not good either.
Not for my pounding heart.
“That’s enough for the spying vultures.” I push off him, noticing how many pairs of eyes are on us, including my mother’s. “You gave good effort today, but I don’t think any of it will help you win our fake-dating bet. If anything, my mom is even more skeptical about you.”
His smile spreads, slow and charming. “Don’t worry about me, Miss Langford. I’ll get the job done. Just worry about yourself.” He turns toward his truck, calling back over his shoulder. “See you at school tomorrow. It’s showtime for you.”
I fight my smile the entire time I watch him walk away.
And suddenly, I am a little worried about myself, but not in the way he’s thinking.