The Blind Date

by Landish, Lauren

  - “Hey, Sunshiners! Riley Sunshine here, with Midnight Mark!”

  “Hey, Sunshiners! I’m not here as Riley Sunshine’s guy, but rather as my Clark Kent alter ego, A.K.A. The App Geek. I want to let you know that I listened to your last comments, and we’re moving forward with an updated edition of Friendzone! Using the same AI technology that has made BlindDate so successful, we’re launching the revamped Friendzone next month for all of you who may not be looking for love right now but would love to find your gym buddy, fellow football fanatic, quiz bowl team member, or whatever you’re looking for!”

  - Happy Fourth Of July to my American Sunshiners! On a day we celebrate independence here in the States, what I was reminded of is how interdependent we all are. None of us stand alone. Look to your left and right and help those around you. If we all do this, not just today, but every day, the whole world would be better off.

  I started out my day with family, then went to the nursing home for a cherry pie eating contest. I’m not sure there were any losers. Especially when my friend brought her dogs down to do some animal therapy with the residents.

  Check out the pictures of our family having a good old-fashioned barbecue, complete with some of the vegetables from my mother’s own garden! Check out pic #3, you’ll see how lucky I got in the DNA lottery from Mom! Love my family, love Midnight Mark, and love Raffy—did you see his flag bandana? Love you guys, too!

  - Taking a few days out of these hot August days to soak up some sunshine! Yes, I’m wearing my sunblock. I’m all about that #SPF50Life. Thanks to Joroast Cosmetics for their hydrating lotion for afterward.

  - We decided on our honeymoon! Are we going to announce it? Not quite. We love games, and we decided that the first Sunshiner to guess the location is going to win a special gift directly from us! A hint: we’re going to get to explore five centuries of shipwrecks, all by scuba diving! The prize? A Pure Vibe candle in coconut thyme scent. (Oops, maybe that’s another hint!)

  - I really need to give harder clues! Sorry to all those who didn’t see my post within the first ten minutes! We’re going to randomly pick another five correct answers and those posters will get a prize as well. Love to all the Sunshiners!

  - Happy first day of fall, Sunshiners! It’s beautiful outside, but I got hit with some bad news today. The chapel where we planned to have the wedding accidentally double-booked. I’ll be honest, I cried . . . a lot. But the venue isn’t the important part of the wedding. All that matters is the bride and groom speaking from their hearts. That helped me calm down. And then, like so often happens, one door closes and a window opens. Or well, your husband-to-be opens the window for you. He asked his boss, who is an amazing person—CEO, mother, classy, and kick-assy—if we could get married in her back yard. To be clear, her ‘yard’ is a palatial estate. And she said yes! New venue, new plans to make, but still smiling at the way sunshine can spread. And best wishes to the bride who’s getting married at the chapel. It’s stunning, and I hope you have a lovely day too!”

  - Hey, Sunshiners! You are amazing people with beautiful, big hearts! Many of you have written to ask how you can celebrate our wedding with us, wanting to send gifts to my P.O. Box. We are so appreciative and grateful, but we truly have everything we could possibly need. If you’d really like to send something, please send canned goods. Yep, you heard me right. Click on your Amazon cart or your local grocery delivery app and send us some canned goods or non-perishable items. We’ll be donating them, along with any leftovers from the wedding dinner, to local homeless shelters. Other ways we’re helping others with our big day? I ordered cookie favors from an organization that sends one to troops overseas, one for one. For every cookie we buy, a soldier gets one too. And the flowers will go to nursing homes and hospitals after the reception. And though it might take me a minute to let go, even my dress is going to an organization that uses them to make angel baby dresses. Can you think of any other ways we can help spread sunshine? How can you spread a bit yourself?

  - Happy Turkey Day! Okay, Sunshiners, time for my honesty check. Yes, I’ve been doing some extra workouts to look my best for the wedding and the honeymoon. Midnight Mark’s doing the same, even though he’s practically perfect as is . . . but he says the same thing about me. Guess that’s just how it is. But today is special and we’re skipping all that. Because today’s about eating . . . and celebrating with family, of course. But make no mistake, I’ve got my eating pants on and Raffy’s eyeing a turkey leg like it’s got his name on it. Don’t tell him but I might’ve gotten him his own cute little Cornish hen. Spoiled dog is probably going to sleep until December!

  - Today’s the day, Sunshiners! Sing it with me . . . dun-dun-dun-duuuuun. It’s my Wedding Day.

  I promise I’ll post pictures later, but I gotta go get married before a certain worried moonlight groom realizes I’m a little bit extra sunny!

  - “Hey, Sunshiners! Happy New Year, with an amazing New Year’s gift! It seems that our honeymoon in Bermuda did more than give us some killer tans and great memories. We’ve made a little Sunshiner in here! Talk about amazing, huh?”

  - Check this belly out. I swear there’s only one future Sunshiner in here. The doctor even confirmed it. But whoo, feeling large and not in charge. But Baby will be here soon.

  - Baby Star, meet the Sunshiners. Sunshiners, meet Baby Star, here in her Daddy’s arms. No, that’s not her real name, but we’re keeping that quiet and letting her have her own online secret identity too. Born an amazing nine pounds, seven ounces and as beautiful as her father, I can only hope I’m as good a mother as my mom is.

  I love you, Baby. We’re going to do amazing things together.

  Spread some sunshine, everybody!

  I hope you enjoyed the story! If you did, read on for an excerpt of my book Rough Love. If you haven’t read this series, you’re missing out!

  Excerpt: Rough Love - Tannen Boys Book 1

  Bruce

  “Fuck, it’s hot!” I bark to no one as the screen door slams behind me, blocking out at least a portion of the August heat. The sweat rag I’m using to wipe my face down is about as useless as tits on a bull, already soaked through, wrung out, and soaked again.

  But as I open my eyes to the coolness of the kitchen, it’s not the heat from outside that stops me in my tracks. It’s the one raised eyebrow and glaring eyes on the face of the otherwise sweet woman in front of me. “Language, son.”

  Busted in my own damn house. How’s that even happen? “Uh, hey there, Mama Louise. Didn’t expect to see you over here.”

  There’s a question in there somewhere, something along the lines of ‘what the fuck are you doing in my kitchen?’ but I don’t dare voice it out loud.

  She ain’t my mama, and I damn sure ain’t her son, but as we’ve learned lately, sometimes, family is what you make of it, not what nature gives you. Mama Louise is the woman who has taken us Tannens on as fixer-upper projects. Me and my two brothers, Brody and Bobby, might as well be condemned buildings for all the work we need, but my little sister, Shayanne, seems to be doing okay with Mama Louise’s motherly influence.

  Regardless, everyone in town and out of town and the globe over calls this tiny blonde woman who could intimidate the sun itself to bend to her will ‘Mama Louise’. She won’t have it any other way, unless you feel fit to drop the Louise and just call her Mama, which makes her cheeks pink up in joy. So I don’t do it. It doesn’t feel right to do that to my own mom, may she rest in peace.

  The other eyebrow raises to match its partner and I realize my misstep. “Sorry,” I say simply, not really meaning it but willing to say it to keep her happy. It don’t take much, and it’s no skin off my back, so why not give her the little things? That way, she doesn’t dig too hard for the big ones.

  Shayanne grins from Mama Louise’s side, enjoying seeing me put in my place, but she doesn’t dare let those giggles that are shaking her shoulders free or Mama Louise will get after her too. Mama Louise dips her chin once in
acknowledgement of my apology and then goes on as if I didn’t just perform like some trained seal. Hell, if I’m doing tricks, where’s my treat? Shouldn’t I get a cookie or something?

  I peek over Mama Louise’s shoulder, hoping that maybe she is actually making cookies, even though I know she’s neck deep in helping Shayanne. My sister is a force to be reckoned with, and one day, she’s going to grow up to be just like Mama Louise, who keeps a household full of mannerless cowboys from going feral.

  Of course, Shayanne helps with that, as do the other Bennett boys’ wives. So maybe their work mostly consists of keeping us three Tannen boys in line. That’s a full-time job that requires overtime on the regular, so Shay could probably use the backup because she’s been doing it way too long on her own, even when she was barely a pipsqueak to us near-grown boys.

  “What’s next?” I say, giving up on my cookie dreams.

  “Shayanne has one more round of deliveries for you today. Think you’ve got time before dinner?”

  Mama Louise eyes the sun, which is sitting midway down the western sky. The ball of fire’s position seems to light new urgency in her hands, and she pours the pink-tinted water through a strainer and into a big plastic jug.

  They’re working on Shayanne’s latest creation . . . watermelon agua fresca. I’d teased her last spring that instead of people looking out for the milkman, they were going to be watching out their windows for the watermelon water woman. Which would be true, except that I swear I’m doing the bulk of her deliveries so she can keep up with the demand. At this point, I’m just glad she’s making something of the watermelons we grew in one of the fields out back. It’d seemed like a lot when we started harvesting, but summer’s not even two-thirds over and she’s damn near used every last one of them in her special concoction of watermelon, lime, and sugar water.

  “Yep, I’ve got time,” I assure Mama Louise, starting to pick up the jugs for my first trip to the truck. Shayanne abandons her post to help me carry the load. She’s got a spring to her step and as many jugs of pink drink in her tiny hands as I do in my big paws. Shay’s a worker, down to the bone.

  We step over Murphy, my old dog that doesn’t even move as I grumble at him, “Git, Murph.”

  Instead, he rolls over like I’m going to set down the jugs in favor of belly scratches for him. I’m not a total asshole, though, so I do run my boot over his too-big gut a couple of times before pushing the door open with a hip and then holding it for Shay to come out too.

  “Thanks, Bruce!” Shay’s voice is bright and bubbly, happier than she’s been in so long. Maybe ever. I guess I’ve got Luke Bennett to thank for that, not that I would ever thank him for fucking my sister’s grumpiness out of her. But maybe for loving her, putting a ring on her finger, and showing her a world beyond our little pile of dirt . . .

  Not that it’s ours anymore.

  Nope, thanks for that last knife in the back, Dad. He’d literally forced us to sell the farm when he died with his bad gambling debts, and we’d lucked out that our neighbors, the Bennetts, had wanted the land and had taken our motley crew on as ranch hands and pseudo-family.

  The last seven months have been interesting, to say the least, but we’re all settled into our roles for the most part. I’ve even seen Brody smile a time or two, and that’s like winning the Mega Powerball Lotto for billions on a random, computer-drawn list of numbers . . . twice in two weeks. In other words, it doesn’t happen. Ever.

  But it did. I saw it with my own eyes, so maybe I’ll pick up a dollar scratch-off while I’m in town and see if my odds are any better than usual. I snort at my own ridiculousness and Shay looks at me questioningly.

  “Would you like to share with the class what’s got you giggling?”

  For the record, I don’t giggle. Or chuckle. Or laugh. I smile on occasion, but it damn near cracks my face from lack of use. Well, maybe it’s from turning that frown upside down. Hell, maybe Brody’s smiled more than me lately. I’ll have to consider that later.

  “I’m fine, Shay, “ I tell her, not answering her question in the slightest, but she lets me put her off. “Need to get going if I’m gonna get back by dinner. What’re you and Mama Louise making? Maybe I should just grab a bite at Hank’s instead?”

  She stomps her booted foot. “You’d better not, Bruce Tannen. Family dinner tonight, no excuses.” She purses her lips before tucking the bottom one behind her white teeth. “We’ve got some special news. You’ll be there, right?”

  I side-eye my little sister, dropping the not-that-heavy jugs onto my tailgate with a boom as if they weigh a ton. Her hair looks the same as always, brown with some streaks of blonde the sun puts there every summer. Her face is bare with a smattering of freckles across her nose and a bit too much sun on her cheeks from being outside every day. Her frayed shorts and watermelon-stained tank top are her usual work gear, and her boots are dusty and worn.

  Nothing’s out of place and nothing’s unusual except for that glint in her eye.

  “Are you fucking pregnant, Shayanne?” I grit out. I’m gonna kill Luke Bennett for sticking his dick in my sister. I mean, I know he does, and as much as it guts me, I guess she likes it, because she loves him and shit, but I don’t need proof of their fucking walking around and calling me ‘Uncle Bruce’. Or would a little Luke-Anne call me ‘Uncle Brutal’?

  Shit. Neither. Fucking neither is the correct answer.

  Like the firecracker she is, Shay doesn’t answer the damn question for two long seconds during which I figure out which field of dirt I can bury Luke’s body in.

  Not soon enough, she breaks and laughter rings out. Well, more like donkey guffaws because there ain’t a thing prissy about my sister. But through the hee-haws, I gather that she’s laughing at me.

  “Oh, my cheesus and crackers, you should’a seen your face, Bruce! Priceless! Shoot, I wish I’d gotten a picture of that!”

  I push closer to her, looming over her like only a threatening big brother can, but she’s not the least bit scared of me. Probably the only person who isn’t in this whole town.

  “Shayanne Tannen, are you or are you not pregnant?”

  She holds her hand up, admiring the way the sunlight catches her ring. “That’s Shayanne Bennett, and you know it. You were there when Luke and I said our vows about loving and honoring and cherishing and obeying each other. Oh, yeah, especially that last one. You know I love when he tells me what to do.”

  She’s being ornery and we both know it. There ain’t a soul on this planet who tells my sister what to do. Hell, Luke’s probably tried a time or two . . . again, not thinking of him railing my sister . . . and she’d probably still do whatever the fuck she wanted. I grind my teeth together, not sure if I want to strangle her neck or protect another generation of Tannens if she’s got one in her belly.

  “Shay,” I say dangerously low and quiet. It’s my line, letting her know that I’ve had enough.

  “Fine, fine. No, party pooper. I’m not pregnant, though that honeymoon was something else. Some. Thing. Else. Whoo, boy. I didn’t know reverse cowgirl was so much fun. Why didn’t you tell me, big brother?”

  I can’t headbutt my truck, so I skip the words I can’t handle and go for the important one. “You’re not pregnant? Then what’s the big news?” I say. Or growl. Same difference, mostly.

  She boops me on the nose with zero fear for her own life, the only person on Earth who can do that. “Guess you’ll have to show back up to find out.”

  And like that was an answer at all, she spins on her heel and skips, literally skips, back to the house, leaving me feeling like I just ran a marathon when all I did was walk from the kitchen to the driveway.

  On second thought, good for Luke. If he can handle all that, good for him. Less for me and my brothers to have to deal with. I try to convince myself that’s true and remind myself that I like Luke, that I was the one who knew Shay was sneaking out to go meet him long before anyone else did and even helped her cover her late-night p
roclivities. It works, a little bit.

  I take two more trips back and forth from the kitchen to the truck, stepping over Murphy and listening to Shayanne and Mama Louise chattering away, though about what I have no idea, and for now, I don’t care.

  That’s unlike me. I’m usually the silent sleeper who people somehow forget about, even though I’m the size of a barn and I listen intently to just about everything that goes on. I watch people, I listen to them, and I analyze them. I’m not particularly smart book-wise, but I’m observant, and sometimes, that’s even more important.

  But right now, I just want to check these deliveries off my to-do list, eat some dinner, and crash into bed.

  “Bye, ladies. I’ll be back for dinner,” I tell them with my last load, and they both toss an easy smile my way.

  Shay’s happy, and that makes me happy. Way deep down in my heart, beneath all the mud and muck this farm boy is known for these days.

  * * *

  I slam the door of my truck, damn near peeling out of the driveway of my last stop. Even though I’m ready to get the hell outta dodge, I glance up at Millicent Jenkinson, who’s standing in her doorway waving at me. She’s a nice old lady, but I really don’t need another grandma trying to set me up with her granddaughter, and she was the third just today. I don’t know why they think subjecting their beloved daughters and granddaughters to a bastard like me is a good idea. Maybe they’re just desperate and figure beggars can’t be choosers. Because nobody’s choosing me willingly. Too big, too gruff, too quiet.

  Little do they know, those are my best qualities.

  But I’m not a complete asshole, so I toss a two-fingered wave to Mrs. Jenkinson from the steering wheel and drive away without revving my engine. Much.

  The Chris Stapleton song on the radio is a good one, not as good as Bobby’s, but it’ll do for the drive back home. I’m in town but on the far west side from home, and with all the booming growth Great Falls has had the last few years, traffic will be piled up until I reach the city limits. We’re still not big by any stretch, but the roads haven’t quite caught up yet. This could take a while, but a look at the clock tells me I can still make dinner.