Fakers (Licking Thicket 1)

“Are you kidding me right now?” I whispered hotly. I felt my cheeks burn as I pulled away from him. “Shut your damn mouth, Dunn Johnson!”

“Easy there, Brooks. No judgment, bro!” He held out his hands placatingly. “But it is gonna be tonight, right? You, taking a knee? Mal, getting a ring? Not that I’m looking for insider information or whatever, just that I put a hundred down on it happening tonight at the cabin, since we all know that’s where you two had your epic Brown Chicken Brown Cow night of passion last year.” He wiggled his eyebrows… and then he frowned. “The whole town knows it’s gonna happen this week, ’cause you’re a pair of romantic schlubs. But, like, if it’s not gonna be tonight, I should probably find out if non-dairy whipped topping needs to be refrigerated.”

“But why would… No, you know what? I don’t even want to know. No,” I said tightly. “It’s not happening at the cabin. God.”

Though I had definitely considered it, damn it. And now I was starting to get worried that someone might have actually guessed my plan.

How the hell had this happened?

I stalked back toward the tent with my hands clenched.

“Brooks!” a familiar voice called from behind me. I let out a deep breath and paused so my dad could catch me up because that was the polite thing to do. “Hey, son. You just get here?”

“A few minutes ago,” I confirmed. “You already spoke a few words to the crowd?”

“Sure did.” His smile was sunshine bright, and he was clearly in his element. “Just wanted to let you know, I’m handling the ice cream contest later. I missed the little tykes last year.”

“Oh.” I relaxed marginally when I realized at least one person in this town hadn’t bet on me. “Yeah, that sounds great. I’ll handle the football throw tomorrow morning.”

“Well, you could,” he agreed. “You definitely could. But, ah… you might be tired, don’t you think? If you were, you know… planning something tonight? So I’m happy to take the football throw.”

I gaped at him. Et tu, Red Johnson?

He shrugged good-naturedly. “I might’ve been inspired to put down a couple of bucks on the betting pool the young folks are running. ’Specially since I happen to know exactly where it’s all gonna happen.”

Do not ask. Do not ask.

“Where do you think it’s happening?” I demanded.

“Out under the sign, of course.” He grinned. “If it helps any, I got Amos to move his whole herd to the north pasture, so nobody’ll be mooin’ or passing gas while you’re tryna be romantical.”

I made a disbelieving noise, like the air being let out of a balloon, and he clapped me on the back.

“Good man, Brooks,” he said as he walked away.

Holy shit. He’d guessed it. And if he’d guessed it, how many other people had? Damn it all.

I’d had this whole speech planned out and typed up on my phone. I had a playlist. The night was predicted to be clear and warm without a cloud in the sky, and after I asked him to marry me, I’d envisioned me and Mal dancing under the stars. But now it seemed like the only way to keep this proposal just between us would be to convince him to crawl under our bed with me so only the dust bunnies could witness it.

I kicked at a rock on the ground. Maybe it’d be better to wait until tomorrow night. One more night wouldn’t really hurt, right?

I made my way back to Mal’s tent. Diesel seemed to have disappeared and Mal was busy talking to a customer about Ethel, so I grabbed the box we’d brought from his workshop and started placing the smaller sculptures out on the table haphazardly. I noticed Paul avoided my gaze, and I was grimly satisfied. Fuck the aesthetic. So there.

“There’s my great-grandbaby!” a voice shouted from twenty feet away, and I summoned a smile as Beau, Marnie, and Parrish arrived.

A few minutes later, the General was seated in a folding chair with Beau on his lap, and both of them looked perfectly pleased with this arrangement.

“So, Mal,” Beau said slyly. “Did Brooks talk to you yet?”

“Good God,” I exploded. “How many people know about this?”

Beau blinked and looked at Parrish, who shrugged. “Just the couple of us on the call this morning?”

Behind me, Mal laid a hand on my back and asked, “Brooks, baby, are you okay?”

I opened my mouth and shut it… then repeated the process. “You’re talking about the flagship location,” I finally realized.

“Yep,” Beau agreed. “What else would I have been talking about?”

I closed my eyes and sighed. “Nothing. Never mind. No, I haven’t had a chance to tell Mal. Baby, Beau wants to open a flagship Partridge Pit here in the Thicket. A restaurant with a market area, where local artisans can show their craft.”