Chapter 11 Dane

Chapter 11

Dane

Amanda brought me my favorite cookies.

I’m so startled when she pulls them out as we’re floating in the middle of the lake that I almost drop an oar.

“Lorelei said you like them,” she says quickly.

Ah.

Right.

She asked. This isn’t Tinsel magic. “I do. They’ve always been my favorite. Next to Lorelei’s snickerdoodles, anyway. Thank you.”

“You got me a ring. Cookies seemed like the least I could do.”

That ring has been taunting me all day.

While we were driving back to Tinsel, she kept looking at it. While I was fixing the mixer, she kept looking at it. While we were lining up for the town picture, when she wasn’t talking to the people around us, I caught her looking at the ring.

Always with the softest of smiles.

I wanted to know what she was thinking, but I didn’t dare ask.

In case I didn’t actually want to know what she was thinking.

Chili’s happily settled in the center of the canoe between us. He opens one eye and squints at me.

Calling me out on starting to like Amanda as an adult person who’s sometimes impulsive, sometimes insecure, always entertaining, and rarely rude?

Or is he asking if he can have a bite of my cookie?

Could be either.

I bite into the cookie and a sigh of this is bliss slips from my lips.

There’s a lot I don’t miss about Tinsel.

But this cookie?

“I talked to Pia a little about the wedding cake, but it looks like I should call her back and tell her we want a cake of cookies,” Amanda says.

Like this is real.

Like we’re actually having a wedding.

Of course we’re talking about it like it’s real. She’s going dress shopping with her mom in two days. We have an appointment with Pia on Friday to talk about flavors. It feels real because we are planning a wedding.

We’re just not following through with it.

Probably.

Shit.

What if we have to actually get married to convince our families to get along?

It’s like a game of chicken, but instead of racing two bikes at each other at full speed, we’re seeing who blinks first over our threat to have death do us part.

She’s happily nibbling on fruitcake again. Her hair is tucked up in a messy bun on top of her head, and I can’t stop glancing at her belly button ring peeking out between her tank and the bottom of her swimsuit.

It’s no surprise at all that her swimsuit is bright with splashes of color making an optical illusion of a design. Is it flowers? Or is it a bunch of stars between geometric shapes?

Either way, it’s Amanda.

“So Raoul ...,” she says, giving me a look I can’t quite interpret.

I lift my brows and wait.

“He thought you were going to show up to get a ring for someone else. Or was I reading that wrong?”

Nope.

Didn’t expect that.

“You read that correctly.”

“He knew your last girlfriend?”

“Knew of her.”

“But didn’t meet-meet her?”

“Correct.”

“You went ring shopping?”

Not my favorite topic, but I’m the one who suggested we keep up this engagement-and-wedding-planning ruse. I’m the one who took her to meet Raoul. I owe this one to her. “I did.”

“What happened?”

“She was bored and I didn’t know it.”

“Bored by what?”

I blow out a sigh. “I sometimes work long hours. I didn’t always like her favorite restaurants. Swimming as exercise was cliché. I’d rather go sailing than golf. And on, and on, and on.” To include that she got invested in my family’s feud and didn’t understand why I didn’t want to talk about it too.

Amanda wrinkles her nose. “And you were still going to propose to her?”

“Did propose.”

“You proposed to a woman who thought you were boring ?”

“Didn’t know she thought I was boring until I proposed.”

“Oh, Dane. That’s—that’s a special level of hell. I’m sorry.”

She’s not wrong.

It was hell. Actually, it’s the only time I can remember that my family didn’t find a way to blame the Andersons or suggest that my engagement breakup was better than anything the gingerdead family could’ve done.

It will not be the same next week when Amanda and I have called it quits. We’re going to have to absolutely sell that we’re better off as friends and want to remain friends.

Otherwise, this will be my second broken engagement, but all those damn Andersons’ fault .

Shit. We really are going to have to get married.

I lift a shoulder. “Better before an actual wedding. And at least I was boring enough to propose on a private boat cruise instead of a sports event where she could’ve told me how much she didn’t want to marry me while we were being broadcast on the jumbotron.”

She stares at me for a beat, and then she cracks up. “Sorry. Sorry. Not funny.”

But she’s still giggling. Waving her arms like she’s trying to stop. Rocking the boat just enough that Chili lifts his head and snorts at her like he’s saying dump me in this lake and I’ll dump something on you in the middle of the night .

“It’s just—here you are, again, about to not have a wedding, and it’s so unfair.” Her cheeks are flushed. So is her chest above her swimsuit.

I shake my head, but I cannot help smiling when she’s laughing like this. “You laugh now. Wait until I make you go through with it because we haven’t fully ended the feud by Monday and I don’t want to have two failed engagements on my hand.”

“I’m sorry,” she says again. “It’s not funny.”

“So long as you don’t dump me because I’m boring, I think I’ll live.”

“You are not boring.” She fans herself. “Not in the least.”

“I can be.”

“Did you work late every night?”

“Few times a month. Not every night. Not even close. I travel about a week a month, but it was less when I was with her.”

“And could she take herself to her favorite restaurant?”

I blink.

Then blink again.

She finishes off the last bit of her fruitcake. “Honestly, just because people are a couple doesn’t mean they can’t have their own likes and interests. Or maybe I’m the weirdo for believing that. But if you love someone but want to do something they don’t like, why not do it on your own? Or with a friend?”

“I . . . don’t know.”

Chili makes a noise like he, too, wants to know why I hadn’t considered that it wasn’t my job to like everything my girlfriend liked.

I look down at him, and oh shit .

That’s not the noise he’s making.

He’s making the my fur is wet and I don’t like it noise.

There’s a layer of water in the bottom of the canoe.

And we’re in the middle of the lake.

It’s not a huge lake, but we’re not exactly a stone’s throw from shore either.

“Why’s there water in the bottom of the canoe?” Amanda whispers.

“Leak.” Only answer.

Chili rises all the way to his feet and shakes, making the canoe tip back and forth, which makes Amanda shriek and grab the edges.

And then she throws her head back and laughs again. “In case you were wondering, I’ll never be upset that you like to swim for exercise.”

I grab the oars and start paddling, and as I do, I realize I’m smiling.

We might very well sink this canoe before we get back to shore.

And I’m with Amanda on this one.

It’s freaking hilarious. “Start bailing water,” I tell her.

“With what?”

“Your hands?”

We lock eyes, and we both crack up again.

With her hands?

There’s zero chance she’s bailing this canoe out with her hands .

“Paddle faster!” she shrieks between gales of laughter. “Why aren’t there two sets of those paddling thingies?”

“Oars?”

“ Oars! Those! Yes. Why aren’t there two sets?”

Chili snorts at me.

I paddle faster.

Amanda starts scooping water out of the bottom of the canoe with her hands.

Our gazes meet again as she’s making zero progress. She laughs so hard she snorts. I’m laughing so hard I almost can’t breathe.

It’s coming in fast now. We’ve sprung a leak, and the canoe is done for this world.

But we’re still a good ways from shore.

“Your extra cookie!” Amanda lunges for the brown paper bag resting near her seat, and the canoe rocks sideways again.

Chili grunts.

I paddle even harder.

Amanda puts the bag with my cookie in her teeth and goes back to scooping water out of the canoe with her hands, her engagement ring sparkling and catching my attention with every handful of water that she dumps out of the canoe.

We make it to about ten yards from shore before the canoe gives up on life.

Chili stares at me like I’ve betrayed him, like he wasn’t out here in the lake himself just this morning of his own free will, then pushes off and swims for land.

“You good?” I ask Amanda as we make a swim for it too.

Her eyes are dancing. Hair soaked. Dog-paddling while she holds her head far back, the bag with my cookie still clenched between her teeth.

It’s funny, but it’s also making something warm swell in my chest.

She’s going out of her way to save a cookie for me when I can get another one tomorrow.

But when getting another one tomorrow would mean talking to the woman making our wedding cake.

For our fake wedding.

I rescue the cookie bag as we reach ground I can stand on, then wrap an arm around her and pull her closer to shore, to where she can stand too.

We’re smiling at each other like absolute fools.

And that’s the only explanation for what happens next.

Which is me kissing her.

I can’t help myself.

Who could when this close to a ray of sunshine?

Especially a ray of sunshine who’s looping her arm around my shoulders and kissing me back.

Our bodies line up with her breasts pressing into my chest, both of us dripping wet. Her swimsuit is cold but the skin just above it hot as I grip her waist.

Lips hot.

Nose cold.

I catch myself parting my lips to taste her, and that’s when I remember I shouldn’t be doing this.

I break the kiss, panting. “Sorry,” I mutter at the same time as she says, “You’re right, that’ll convince them.”

We stare at each other for a beat before Chili saves the day.

By shaking all the water out of his fur, directly onto us.

Amanda shrieks, then laughs and bends over to rub his fur.

I subtly adjust my cock, which needs to get the message that we’re not doing this.

But she’s right.

Every bit of this is selling the ruse for anyone who’s spying on us tonight.

Pretending to be engaged to Amanda is a good idea.

This will work.

It’ll make our families at least lighten up on their fighting and feuding.

But I hadn’t considered one very important thing.

And that’s how many moments I’d forget this isn’t real.