It was not, but some couples thrived on the drama. “And what makes you think I wanted to take a shot?”
“Because you were smitten that first time you saw her.”
I scoffed. “No, I wasn’t.”
“Oh, Hatchling, I remember it well. You were struck dumb. But I get how you wouldn’t want to make a move on another guy’s girl.”
Ladies and gentlemen, my dad, the shit stirrer.
“I can barely recall meeting her.”
Neither did you rescue her from the church, squirrel her away in your family’s vacation home, or convince her to stay as long as she needs, either.
“Guess I got it wrong. That was the night I learned your mom was pregnant with Tilly, so maybe I already had empathetic pregnancy brain.”
If he had any idea of the bride’s current whereabouts, I’d never hear the end of it. The call left me uneasy, closing in on bad-tempered.
Summer wasn’t helping.
Having refused my offer of a ride back into town for an “essentials run” with her non-existent ATM card and minimal cash, she was now assessing the roadworthiness of Adeline’s bike, an ancient red Schwinn she found in the shed.
“It’s going to crap out on you before you’re halfway down the drive.”
Hopping on it, she cycled twenty feet toward the gate then back again. She had changed into a pair of what I assumed were Aurora’s shorts, and even though my great-grandmother was petite, Summer was even more slight. The shorts rode up, revealing smooth, gilded skin.
“It’s totally fine.”
“I can get you there in eight minutes.”
“And this will be amazing exercise. I can’t have you driving me everywhere. People will talk.”
She was right, of course. Gemma from the coffee shop was probably telling Cassandra at the bakery who would no doubt share with Sam at the library. As far as I was concerned, she could stay as long as she liked, but we needed to be discreet.
I kicked the front tire of the Schwinn. “How’d you come up with Shelby Mae?”
She stilled, then did a slo-mo check of the brakes. “What do you mean?”
“In the coffee shop when Gem asked your name, you came out with it whip-fast.”
Another squeeze of the brakes, then a glance behind to see them in action. “I just tried to imagine what kind of name would piss off Dash’s mother—I mean, even more than Summer, which she thought was trashy—and it came to me in a blinding flash of inspiration! If I’m gonna go trailer, may as well double down.”
I detected a twang there. It wasn’t the first time I’d heard it.
“Where are you from, originally?”
“The Bay Area. Small town no one’s heard of about thirty miles from San Francisco.”
She might give off California summer vibes, but she had never struck me as a West Coast girl.
Before I could comment, she clambered off the bike, lay it against the wall, and picked up a backpack that looked familiar. It had the red-headed Disney princess on it, the one who could shoot arrows.
“That looks like Tilly’s.”
“I figured as much. I hope she won’t mind. I’m going to head into town to pick up some toiletries and … duh, duh, duh … underwear.”
“Why the big announcement?”
“Because I mentioned needing some spares earlier in the car and it seemed to bother you.”
