by Tami Lund
He shook his head and continued walking down the sidewalk. She hurried to catch up. “Well? What are we going to do?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “I get what you’re saying, and I like you like this. You’re definitely more relaxed than you ever have been since I’ve known you. But…”
They reached the house and he said, “Give me a minute to wrap my head around this idea.”
“That’s not very spontaneous of you,” she teased.
He rolled his eyes and pointed at the stairs. “I’m going to my room.”
Giving him the space he obviously wanted, Madison went to the kitchen. Her parents were still sitting on the screened in porch, and her mom turned at a sound, then stood and headed her way.
“How was your walk?” Mom asked brightly. No doubt she was bored out of her mind sitting next to Dad while he got lost in his book. Madison did not understand why the woman didn’t just do her own thing. She doubted Dad would care that she wasn’t sitting by his side every moment of every day.
“It was…” Eventful was a good word. Insane.
Wonderful.
That proposal. It had been exactly as she would have wanted to be proposed to if she were ready for that step. If she were ready to commit to the right guy for the rest of her life.
If only she were ready, because honestly, Kyle would be the perfect match for her. Except now, besides her insistence that she had to have her life completely arranged and prepared before she could take that step, they also had the complication of their new friends-with-benefits status—and the agreement that they would not get emotionally attached.
And that was why she’d spontaneously—yes, her, spontaneous!—not tried harder to make sure her grandparents understood what was really going on out there on the beach.
Because how fun would it be to pretend to be engaged to Kyle Bryant? They’d be able to live in the perfect fantasy world, at least for a few days. Eventually, they’d have to come clean, of course, and their families would probably be annoyed, but hey, she was letting loose and not thinking about consequences, so no planning that far out.
Now, she just had to make sure he was on board with her fun idea.
“Are you all right, dear? You look flushed. Did you not wear sunscreen?”
No, she hadn’t, so it was quite possible the glow was from the sun, although she doubted it. At least not entirely.
“I’m just…warm.”
Mom nodded knowingly. “It does feel warm in here. It’s cooler out on the porch. Do you want to join us?”
“Only if we actually interact.” Whoa, where had that come from? One decision to be spontaneous and Madison was suddenly blurting out all sorts of things she should keep to herself.
Mom, predictably, gasped like Madison had slapped her. “What are you talking about? We interact.”
“Have you and Dad spoken a single word to each other since we all left this morning?”
Mom wrung her hands and glanced over her shoulder. “He’s reading.”
“Which is a perfectly acceptable way to spend the afternoon while you’re on vacation. But since you aren’t also reading, there is no reason you need to sit out there with him.”
“What are you saying?” Mom stared at her with wide, confused eyes.
Madison sighed. “I’m saying I think you should come with us to the cake tasting.”
She’d said it without thinking—today was her day for that, apparently—but actually, it was brilliant. If she could convince her mother to go, Camila would be thrilled that at least one of her parents was participating in the wedding activities.
Mom didn’t respond to her question. Madison needed a distraction before she opened her mouth and told her mother exactly how she felt about, well, pretty much anything, so she opened the fridge and began pulling out ingredients to make a sandwich.
“Do you want one?” she asked her mom.
“Sure, thank you. Maybe make one for your dad too.”
Madison bit back a sigh. There was no harm in making her parents sandwiches for lunch. There was no reason for her to be annoyed by the request. She’d spent so much of her life being frustrated with them in general that it had become an automatic action, and, honestly, she needed to check herself. Her parents weren’t so bad.
They were here, weren’t they? That alone was a huge deal, even if they weren’t acting all in like Tommy’s parents were.
But the reality was, her parents were quiet people. They weren’t socialites like the Bryants, and there wasn’t anything wrong with that. Okay, yes, her dad’s judgment of Camila because she didn’t go to college was unnecessary, and, yes, it would be nice if her mom grew a backbone, but otherwise, they had taken care of their daughters, had shown them love and affection—in their own way—and frankly, a lot of people had it a lot worse off, so maybe Madison should give them a break while they were here, celebrating Tommy and Camila’s nuptials.
“Oh, hey.”
Madison glanced up at the sound of the masculine voice. Elliot stepped up next to her and filled a glass with ice water. He was breathing heavily and sweat poured off his body, which was covered with a pair of jogging shorts and nothing else. She immediately called up the image of Kyle standing in the bathroom in nothing but his boxers.
She definitely liked the view of Kyle better.
Which wasn’t fair. Elliot was another person she was probably too hard on. Yes, he was twenty-three years old and still had no clue what he wanted to do when he grew up, and, yes, he was literally the only person in his family with such a struggle, but was that really so bad? Twenty-three was still young. Hell, a lot of people were still in college at that age. He’d finished college, and he did tend to keep himself gainfully employed, although he never stayed long at any one place.
Honestly, he was a good guy. Plenty of other aspects of their relationship, except his refusal to grow up, had been fine.
Oh shit, she wasn’t regretting breaking up with him, was she?
The butter knife slipped out of her hand and clattered against the tile floor. Elliot danced out of the way of flying bits of mustard.
“You okay?” he asked after bending to swipe the thing off the floor and drop it into the dishwasher.
She eyed him again while he chugged his water, and then she shook her head.
No, no, that wasn’t it. What she wanted was for them to bury the hatchet. It was time they let go of the past and both moved on.
Separately.
She grabbed another knife and focused on making sandwiches. “Um, yeah. Do you want a sandwich?”
“Sure, thanks. I’m going to run upstairs and shower really quick.”
“It’ll be waiting here when you’re done.”
He left the room, and she was finally able to focus on her task.
“Hey.”
She once again dropped the knife she’d been using to slather mustard onto sandwiches.
Kyle grabbed the errant knife. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“Not your fault,” she muttered, pulling yet another knife out of the drawer. She used the utensil to indicate the fixin’s laid out on the counter. “Want one?”
“Sure, thanks.”
He leaned his hip against the counter next to her—far, far too close for her liking. And not because she didn’t want him to be close—she actually wanted him much, much closer. Like between her thighs would be nice. And without the layer of clothing they were both wearing.
He was a hell of a distraction. She’d barely managed to put together a single sandwich at this point. Although she supposed that wasn’t entirely on him.
“I can’t do this.” She threw up her hands, although managing, this time, to hold onto the knife.
“Make sandwiches? You don’t give yourself enough credit, Madison. There’s really—”
“No, don’t say that!”
They both whipped around, and like déjà vu, there were her maternal grandparents, standing in the entry to the k
itchen. Her grandmother, the one who had spoken, stared, her eyes wide, once again.
“Don’t say what?” Madison asked. That she was struggling to make a simple sandwich?
“That it’s over!” Abuela cried out.
Madison blinked several times. “That what’s over?”
Abuela flapped her hand at the two of them. “Your relationship. You’ve only just gotten engaged. You can’t end it already. You need to give it a chance!”
Madison lifted her hands, the butter knife still in her grasp, and waved them at Abuela, trying to calm her, although if someone were peeping in the window, it probably looked like she was threatening the older woman.
But Kyle hadn’t agreed to her impulsive idea, so it wasn’t fair to him—or her grandparents—to let them continue believing they were engaged. “No, Abuela, you misunderstood. We didn’t—”
Kyle wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “Don’t worry, it’s just a lover’s spat.”
Madison twisted her head to face him so fast she winced at the spasm of pain in her neck. “What?” What was he saying? Was he—was he agreeing to carry out the charade?
“You’re engaged?”
Shit. Madison forgot her mom was even still in the room. The woman was just too damn quiet.
Madison stared at Kyle. “Are we…?”
“Carlos, did you hear that? Madison isn’t going to be a crazy cat lady after all. She’s engaged!” Mom shouted, loud enough that anyone in the house would be able to hear.
“What’s with the crazy cat lady stuff?” Madison wanted to know.
“I told you,” Abuela said, “your mom was getting worried.”
“I’m only twenty-four,” she protested.
Abuela shrugged.
What sounded like a herd of elephants came tearing down the stairs and a moment later, Elliot stepped into view, his hair still dripping water, his shirt and shorts looking as if he’d thrown them on in a hurry.
“I swear I just heard—”
“They’re engaged,” Mom repeated to Dad, who had managed to tear himself away from his book—of course—and had wandered into the room.
“Who is?” Elliot asked.
Madison looked at Kyle. He winked. Did that mean…?
Kyle opened his mouth. A door slammed against a wall somewhere in the house, and then Grandma Bryant’s voice traveled through to the kitchen, “Hell-oooo, anyone home?”
“In here,” Mom called out.
“Who is?” Elliot asked again, his wide-eyed gaze roving the room, which, Madison assumed, was due to denial. Because honestly, who the hell else would they be talking about?
“Hurry up,” Mom called, “so everyone can hear at the same time!”
The remaining grandparents were all dressed in swimsuits, thank God, because Madison suddenly recalled where they’d claimed to have gone earlier today, and she was certain she would not have been able to handle seeing any of them in anything less right now. Or ever.
“What’s up?” Grandma Bryant asked, leading the crowd in her bright blue-and-white striped swimsuit paired with a coverup that was decorated with orange and red cabbage-like flowers.
“Now or never, Kyle,” Madison murmured. She offered him the chance to bow out of the impulsive decision she’d made, because maybe wasn’t such a good idea after all. Maybe there were a far less exciting ways to be impulsive. Maybe…
“Maddy and Kyle are engaged! Both of our baby girls are going to be Bryants now!”
Chapter Ten
He went along with the charade.
Of course he did. Who was he kidding? Kyle was halfway to wanting the engagement to be real, which was an issue for another day. But more importantly, he wanted Madison to be happy. To be relaxed. To enjoy life.
And if this was how she thought she was going to achieve that end, he had no problem playing along.
“So romantic,” Madison’s abuela said, clasping her hands and pressing them to her breast, fluttering her lashes like a Bugs Bunny cartoon, as she then recounted what she’d witnessed out on the beach.
The worst part was, it had been romantic, even though it had also been fake. Probably because Kyle wanted it to not be fake.
“We didn’t hear the actual words,” her abuela said, “but that kiss was certainly enough proof that these two are in it for the long haul.”
“Oh yeah?” Grandma Bryant said, eyeing them each in turn. “Show us.”
“What?” Kyle burst out, worried Madison would balk. Pretending to be engaged was one thing, kissing in front of an audience—knowingly—was a whole separate issue. “We are not—”
“And now they’re arguing, and Maddy just tried to call it off,” Abuela interrupted.
“What?” Grandma Bryant said, sounding outraged. “You two are perfect together.”
“We are?” Kyle said, bemused. Of course, he thought so, but it hadn’t occurred to him that others might too.
“Wait,” Elliot said, “You two are engaged? Seriously?”
Madison and Kyle glanced at each other, but neither said a word.
“We dated for a year,” Elliot said, glaring at Madison. “And it amounted to nothing. How long have you two been at it?”
Madison cleared her throat. “Not very long.”
Why the hell was Elliot so pissed off? He and Maddy broke up months ago. Almost a year.
“Story of my fucking life,” Elliot muttered before shoving his way out of the room and storming out of the house.
“Well, that was awkward,” Grandma Bryant announced. “Now, kiss and make up.”
“What? Me and Elliot?” Kyle asked dumbly.
Grandma Bryant rolled her eyes. “Don’t be dense.”
Don’t be… “You mean me and Madison?”
“No, I mean Madison and Elliot.” Grandma Bryant gave the back of his head a smack. “Get with the picture, Kyle. That ship has sailed. But you and Madison, well, that’s definitely still in the harbor. Now, kiss. Go on.”
His face was so damn hot he was mildly surprised it hadn’t burst into flames. “I’m not going to kiss her, Grandma.” At least, not in front of them.
“Why not? That’s what engaged couples do, you know. A lot. They do other things too these days, although back when your grandpa and I were engaged, kissing was supposed to be the extent of it. Although there was definitely plenty of groping and a little dry humping and—”
Kyle lifted his hand, palm out. “Okay, okay, stop already. That is not an image that needs to be in anyone’s mind.”
“I don’t know, I thought it was pretty—”
“Grandma,” Kyle ground out because seriously, no one needed to hear whatever details she was about to overshare.
“Fine. Then just kiss already,” Grandma Bryant said, and the rest of the grandparents joined into the fray, and soon there was a surprisingly on-key chant going.
Madison’s mom looked hopeful. Her dad looked like he always looked, although he did appear to actually be paying attention to the chaos ensuing all around him. And all the grandparents were still chanting.
“Okay, okay already,” he called out over the rhythmic shouts of “Kiss her, kiss her, kiss her!” If it would get them all to shut up and calm down, this wasn’t a hardship. The kisses they’d shared over the last two days had ruined him for any other women, probably for the rest of his life, so he might as well steal as many as he could while he had the chance.
The choir finally quieted, and Madison stared at him with wide, unblinking eyes. “Are we really doing this?”
“Yes, you are,” someone from the peanut gallery called out. Probably Grandma Bryant, although honestly, it might have been Madison’s abuelita.
Kyle reached out and snagged one of her hands, twining their fingers together. “The other option is to take advantage of the quiet and tell them it’s all a—”
She pulled him to her, wrapping her other arm around his neck. Their lips puckered, met, and his eyes fluttered closed as he canted his head to nibble a
t her bottom lip. She opened her mouth and pressed her body to his, and his tongue delved into nirvana, sweeping around, tangling with hers as he secured his hand around her waist.
Forgetting for a moment that they had an audience, he dropped his hand lower to squeeze her ass, and then someone wolf whistled, bringing him back to reality. He broke the kiss and snapped his arms back like they were being controlled by an impulsive marionettist.
The grandparents and Madison’s mom started clapping.
Well, they’d done it now. They’d done exactly what Madison said she wanted: they’d made an impulsive yet significant decision.
And eventually, they were going to have to tell everyone the engagement was fake.
Which sucked, because the last thing Kyle wanted to do was stop kissing Madison.
***
With the exception of Madison’s dad and Elliot, the rest of the entourage went to the cake tasting, which Kyle could tell had not been the plan.
“I thought the grandparents were doing their own thing,” Camila said as she eyed the group that traipsed into the bakery.
“We were too excited to stay home,” Grandma Bryant, who was apparently the self-appointed voice of all grandparents, said.
“Over cake?” Camila asked uncertainly.
“Nope,” Grandma Bryant said, which earned her a few elbow nudges and chuckles from her posse.
Kyle shook his head and bit back his grin.
“We do love cake,” Madison’s abuelita said, nodding solemnly. The attempted serious look on her face was clearly fake.
Camila did not look like she believed her grandmother either, but was distracted by the wedding planner pushing a gleaming silver cart laden with white ceramic plates piled with small slices of frosted cake. A man wearing a chef’s hat and coat and brightly colored pants joined her, his arms behind his back as he observed the crowd, all of whom were now leaning toward the sugary concoctions.
“I need to make more cake,” the chef said.
“We can share,” Grandma Bryant said. “Especially you two.” She waved her finger between Madison and Kyle, which earned her an eye roll from Madison.