Chapter 26
Chapter Twenty-Six
CHARLIE
“So”—I lean across the table toward Alice, not one ounce a saint—“tell me more about this naughty list.”
A deeper blush creeps down her neck, spreading across her arms as if all her freckles have caught on fire, and I’m a little too proud of myself for having that effect on her. A little too happy about the triumphant return of Bad Charlie.
But then I just feel guilty.
Thankfully, Alice ignores everything I said. Clearing her throat, she gets us back on track. “The Victorian lied about me. That stuff she wrote today, some of it wasn’t even true. I want to find out who she is—and I want to know why she lied.”
I must look confused. Alice reaches for the scandal sheet on the table, flipping to the part about us.
“The Victorian said we went to the Harris House together and bingo at town hall—which is true. But then she said we took a ‘moonlit stroll’ in the ‘wee small hours of the morning.’” Alice jabs the paper. “But all we really did was walk across your yard together from your art studio. And it wasn’t the wee small hours of anything. It was barely ten thirty at night. She lied about us on purpose. I just don’t know why.”
Because that’s what gossip columnists do.
They make everything sound as scandalous as possible. That’s their job. It’s nothing personal.
I should say that to Alice, but I don’t. She’s too upset, and I don’t want to make it worse by acting like it doesn’t matter, by pretending her pain isn’t real. She takes a second to collect herself, face flush. “I want to find out who the Victorian really is, and I think the Old Birds might know. They know everything about everyone; you said so yourself.”
I don’t know how to respond. In the entire history of the Lilac Hedgerow, I’ve never heard anyone utter those words. Nobody has ever talked about unmasking the Victorian, not even the Sharps. And those two are always up to something.
Alice keeps going. “She made it sound like you were up to no good, like you were some kind of town rake. Doesn’t that bother you?”
“Sure,” I admit. “It bothers me a lot. I’m trying to get a full-time job in town, and the Victorian isn’t doing me any favors. But?—”
I trail off, not sure how to say this next part. How to admit I always feel like I deserve any bad press I get in Ponderosa Falls. I caused trouble here for years. Of course, the Victorian’s going to say those things about me. If everyone else is thinking it, she might as well write it.
It’s different when it comes to Alice, though. She just got here, and she hasn’t done anything wrong. If I feel bad for anyone, it’s her.
She hesitates, gesturing to our list. “I want to have fun with you while I’m here. I want us to do everything on that list, but what if spending more time together is a bad idea? What if the Victorian keeps writing about us, and it costs you that job?”
It’s the “I want to have fun with you” part that gets me. Seven words have never hit me so hard or sunk in so deep. I know she doesn’t mean anything by it, but that casual comment sparks behind my ribs. Lighting me up like a roadside flare on a dark night.
The rest of what she said takes a little extra time to sink in, but when it does, it’s a familiar argument. Alice is worried about all the things that have been bothering me for days, the same fears that have followed me around since I found out about that teaching job in town. What if our to-do list inspires the Victorian to keep going after me? What if spending more time with Alice ruins my chances at Ponderosa Elementary?
Yesterday, those fears would’ve been enough. I would have given up and played it safe. But today, Alice spent hours upset in my guest room. She needs help, and the words “I want to have fun with you” won’t stop echoing in my head. I’d take a lot of risks to keep hearing her say a thing like that.
The choice feels simple. “If it happens, it happens. If the Victorian costs me that job, so be it. I’ll survive.”
If I have to choose between spending six good days with Alice or that job, I’m going with Carrots every time. I’ve tried staying away from her since she got here; my days are just better when I don’t. I probably wasn’t going to get hired at Ponderosa Elementary anyway.
Alice studies my face, trying to figure out if I mean that, if I’d risk an entire job for our to-do list. I glance away, and her gaze drifts back to the scandal sheet.
“I just wish there was a way to beat the Victorian at her own game. To trick her into leaving us alone…or at least get her to only write what we want. Good stuff that won’t cost you that job.”
She pauses, drumming her fingers on the table. Deep in thought. “A way to make it clear you aren’t a rake at all—because you aren’t. You’re one of the kindest, sweetest guys I’ve ever met.”
Is she serious?
That’s the nicest thing any girl has ever said about me. Too nice. I can’t tell if I feel seen or if she’s giving me too much credit. But that’s not what really throws me.
I have the answer.
I know exactly how we could prove all those things to the good people of Ponderosa Falls. The Old Birds have been crowing about it for days.
I refuse to say it out loud. I promised myself I wouldn’t force fake dating on Alice. That is one tempting road I refuse to lead her down.
Luckily, she’s a romance author. Alice eats, sleeps, and breathes this stuff. She comes up with ideas like these for a living, and it doesn’t take her long to connect all those dots on her own.
She gasps. Adorably. “If the Victorian wants a scandal, why don’t we give her something sweet instead? The opposite of a scandal.”
“Something sweet?” I feign ignorance. Like a monster.
Alice nods. “We could give them a whole love story.”
A love story?
Carrots has taken fake dating to the extreme, and this time I really am surprised. I almost choke on my Dr. Pepper right in front of her. I don’t die, but I’ve definitely gone to heaven.
“It’ll be perfect,” she continues while I sputter for air. “We can give them a real-life Hallmark movie to swoon over. Something so sweet, no one could ever accuse you of being a rake. I bet we could get the entire town rooting for you.”
I doubt that.
But that doesn’t mean I’m going to say no. Though before I can enjoy her idea too much, Alice’s face clouds. As if she’s already changed her mind.
“Wait—what am I thinking? I’m so sorry. Forget I said anything. I can’t even believe I suggested that. Lydia would’ve been so confused.”
“Lydia?”
“You two are great together. I mean, you aren’t technically together yet, but you should be. I’d hate to get in the way or upset her or?—”
Lydia?
I almost kissed Alice twice today. Twice . Before dinner, I had her cornered in the guest room. How can she still think I have feelings for Lydia?
“We’re just friends—we’re practically siblings. Ask her yourself.”
Alice gives me a dubious glance, but she doesn’t argue. “So you’d be okay with fake dating? You’re not with—you don’t—nobody would mind?”
“I’m free and clear. How about you, Kilpatrick? Are you sure you really want to do this?”
She nods, and I can’t help what happens next. It’s an impulse. A byproduct of all the lectures I’ve received over the past two days from some mean old birds.
Sliding our paper back toward me, I add one more item to her Naughty List. My favorite item.
3. Make Alice’s ex jealous
That surprises her. As if Alice had never considered that angle before, as if she hadn’t been thinking about her ex at all. But the delight on her face is unmistakable. I could see that look every single day and always want more.
She holds up her glass. “To our to-do lists.”
Dread mingles with the excitement in my stomach, but I ignore it. Fake dating Alice is the worst idea I’ve ever had, the worst choice I could ever make. It won’t last, and losing her is going to bring me to my knees.
But I raise my glass. Clanking my Dr. Pepper against her raspberry lemonade as I walk straight into a disaster. “To our to-do lists.”