“Is there anyone’s heart you’re particularly concerned about?”
“Nah.” His eyes met mine for an awkward moment.
“Well, you don’t need to be concerned about my dress. There are shorts underneath.” I grabbed my tote bag and headed for the door. “You should be worried about some sparks flying from those hoochie daddy shorts you’re wearing.”
By the time we arrived at the firefighters’ picnic, the park was already buzzing with activity. The scent of grilled meat and the sound of laughter filled the air, and I could feel the curious eyes of the locals on us. After all, we were the “newlyweds” who were the talk of the town.
Pretending to be married? Difficult enough. Adding a small-town social event? A nightmare.
“Smile, Derek,” I said through gritted teeth, looping my arm through his and flashing a pleasant grin that hid my true feelings. “We’re supposed to look happy.”
“Oh, I’m ecstatic,” he replied, plastering on a grin so forced it could’ve cracked his face. “Nothing screams joy like faking a marriage to the woman trying to steal your job.”
“Are you calling me a thief, Derek?” I asked, raising an eyebrow and adding just the right amount of mock offense to my tone. “I prefer to think of myself as your superior.”
“If that helps you sleep at night,” he shot back.
“It does,” I replied. “As well the king-size bed I get to stretch out in every night.” I elbowed him in response, but the faintest hint of a smile tugged at his lips. A win, albeit a small one.
“Derek! Jasmine!” Eleanor, the town’s unofficial welcoming committee and reigning queen of enthusiasm, waved us over to a long table laden with food. She wore an apron that read “Kiss the Cook,” though, judging by her husband’s stern expression and close proximity, no one would dare to.
“You two made it! I was beginning to think you’d skipped out,” David exclaimed, wearing his own matching apron.
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Derek earned a hearty pat on the back from David.
“All right, lovebirds.” Kitanya seemingly appeared out of nowhere and began to half nudge / half tug us toward a small crowd. “You two are just in time. I signed you up for all of the competitions! First up, the three-legged race!”
I turned to Derek, a grin spreading across my face. “Don’t embarrass me, hubby.”
“Oh, it’s on, wifey,” he replied, matching my competitive energy. No way was I letting him lose this for us.
We lined up with the other pairs, our legs tied together with what looked like oversize shoelaces. I leaned in slightly, whispering, “Left foot first, then right. Just follow my lead.”
“Are you seriously strategizing for a three-legged race?” he asked, incredulous.
“Unlike you, I like to be prepared,” I shot back, eyes on the prize.
The whistle blew, and chaos ensued. The man who looked like he was carved from a block of marble and spent most of his morning going for long runs was not the most coordinated partner. We stumbled, nearly fell, and I spent most of the race yelling instructions.
“Left foot! Right foot! No, your other right!”
“I know how to walk!” he snapped back, though the evidence suggested otherwise.
Despite everything, we managed to cross the finish line second, collapsing onto the grass in a heap. I was laughing so hard my sides ached, and to my surprise, so was Derek. It was a rare, genuine moment of shared hilarity.
“Not bad, partner.” I extended a hand to help him up.
“Not bad yourself,” he replied, his grin catching me off guard. For a split second, it felt real—like we were actually a team. But before I could dwell on it, Kitanya’s voice rang out again.
“Time for the pie-eating contest!”
“Think you can handle it?” I teased, knowing full well he’d rise to the challenge.
“Oh, you’re on.”
The rest of the day was a whirlwind of food, games, and laughter. By the time the sun began to set, the park was bathed in the warm glow of string lights, and the sound of children’s laughter filled the air. Derek and I found ourselves sitting on a bench, watching the kids run around with sparklers.
“Tora would have loved this,” I mused before bringing a cup of Pike berry lemonade to my lips and taking a sip.
