The Real Deal

“Bartender. Close enough. Can I help you with the rest?” I survey the assortment of fruit on the counter. Peaches, strawberries, raspberries, and blueberries.

“I’m making breakfast smoothies,” he says, shaking his head. “Whatever happened to good old eggs and bacon? But Emma begged me for a smoothie before we all go to the amusement park, and far be it from me to resist my granddaughter.”

I laugh. “She’s pretty irresistible.”

As I slice a peach, he pours more yogurt into the machine. After clearing his throat, he says, “My daughter likes you.”

“I like your daughter.”

He narrows his eyes at me. “I can tell. That’s why I’m going to say this: Don’t hurt her.”

I straighten my shoulders. “I don’t intend to, sir.”

“I’m sure you don’t plan to.” His deep voice is gruff and intense as he doles out his warning. “But young people today don’t always think about what they’re doing. They bounce from job to job, town to town, without any stability. They don’t think about the people in their lives.”

I have no problem speaking the truth when I say, “I think about April a lot. I care deeply for her.”

He turns to face me, one big paw parked on the top of the vibrating blender. “She has the biggest heart of anyone I’ve ever known.”

My chest warms. I’m not sure if it’s from the sun, or from the girl I’m thinking of. “She’s amazing,” I say, smiling.

“I can tell she’s happy with you. I’d like to see that happiness more,” he says as he gestures for more fruit. “I still wish she’d come back and do her painting here. She could open a painting studio. That would be perfect in downtown Wistful.”

I’m not really sure this town needs a painting studio, or if there’s even a market for one anywhere, to be frank. I’m reminded once again that April’s parents don’t entirely get what she does for a living, but she wishes they would. “I understand wanting to keep her close, sir. But the work for someone of her skills is around the city. She’s so talented. Her portfolio blows my mind,” I say as I scoop the peaches into the blender.

“It makes no sense to me how anyone could earn a living like that.”

“It might not be a traditional job, but it’s a real one, and she’s incredibly successful.” So successful, she hired me to play her fake boyfriend to get her family off her back. “When you have that much talent, you rise to the top,” I say, and though I once flared hot with jealousy over April’s ease with money, now I want to make sure her parents understand that she’s not simply the cute, quirky, artsy one. She’s the wildly talented one who’s carved out one hell of a career. I’ve known April for only a few days, but I already know she’s the best at what she does. “Her work is truly epic, and I’m sure you’re proud of her.”

Or you should be.

He screws up a corner of his mouth. “Epic?”

“Epic,” I repeat. “You should see the cheetah she painted on an athlete’s leg. She showed me a picture. I swear, you’d be hard-pressed to tell where the person ended and the cheetah began. She’s that good.”

His lips curve into a small smile.

“Have you seen it?”

He shakes his head.

“Let me show you.”

He stops the blender as I grab my phone from my back pocket, clicking over to the picture April sent me on the train. I asked for it then because I thought it was cool, but also because it said something about her talent.

I show him the picture and walk him through everything April told me about the job. He nods, listening attentively. I’m not saying anything April couldn’t say herself. That fierce, strong woman doesn’t need me or anyone else to be her megaphone. But I want to tell the world she’s fantastic, and sometimes the world, or just your family, needs to hear it from an outsider.

“Wow.” When her father raises his face, he claps my shoulder. “Thanks. I appreciate that.” His comment is pithy, but I hear what’s underneath those words—gratitude. He sees something in his daughter that perhaps he didn’t appreciate before. “I guess that’s why she didn’t go into the family boat business,” he says a bit wistfully.

I smile and nod. “You make beautiful boats. April makes beautiful paintings on the human body.”

His grin is as wide as the lake now. “You’re a proud boyfriend.”

That’s exactly what I want to be for her. “I am. I’m proud of her.”

April’s dad pours a few smoothies into glasses, presumably to take them to his grandchildren. He walks past me on his way out of the kitchen and tips his chin at me. “Thanks for the help with the frappé blender deelio smoothie, and with the cheetah. You know, all I want is for April to be happy.”

“I know. I want the same thing, too.”

I head outside, and I see April at the edge of the porch, her hair swept up in a messy bun, the back of her neck exposed, talking to Libby and Emma as they drink smoothies.

My heart stutters.

It slams against my ribs.

When April turns around and spots me at the open door, her smile spreads across her face. That look, that sweet and carefree smile, makes my heart leap toward her.

Oh hell.

I know why I want her to be happy.

I’m falling for her.





Chapter Thirty-two

Theo

We ride a huge log on the Water Twister, massive waves splashing our T-shirts. Naturally, this becomes my favorite part of the day because … boobs.

April looks fantastic in her now-wet T-shirt. God bless water’s ability to cling to cotton and reveal swells.

Forget the life-sustaining features of H2O. This is my favorite thing about water.

As we weave through the exit of the ride, my eyes roam over her shirt. “Remember the time I said your arms were distracting?” She nods, and I bend close to her ear. “They have nothing on your tits. They’re a world-class distraction.”

She nudges my side with her elbow.

I hold my hands out wide, like I’m immune to any accusations of ogling. “You admitted you were checking out my goods. I’m just doing the same.”

She squares her shoulders, making her breasts look even more majestic; then she smirks.

Damn, I could keep her around.

We join up with some of the younger ones, spinning on the Tilt-A-Whirl with Emma and smashing around in the bumper boats with Libby. After we leave the boats, April makes a pit stop at the nearest water fountain for a drink. Libby points her thumb to the looming air devil behind us. “I love the Ferris wheel. Want to ride with me?”

My stomach churns. “The line looks long,” I say, squinting at the short queue and lying.

Emma jumps into the fray, pleading with her doe eyes that nearly make it impossible to resist. “Please! We love the Ferris wheel because you can rock this one when you’re at the tippy top.”

My stomach plummets. I can handle spiders, snakes, any sort of cleanup work, but Ferris wheels make me want to curl into a ball and rock myself to sleep.

“Wow,” I say, trying to keep my voice even as I call upon my onetime skills. The number one rule of conning is never to reveal your true intent. “Rocking at the top. That just sounds—”

“It sounds amazing!” Emma presses her palms together as if in prayer.

Yes, pray for me to live through the Ferris wheel.

“It’s awesome,” Libby seconds. “You just hover there at the top for a while as the final people get on. Isn’t that the best part, April?” Libby gestures to April as she rejoins us.

“Hell yeah,” she says, and I’m officially screwed. But then, she grabs my hand, squeezes hard, and raises her chin to meet my eyes. “The thing is, I’m pretty sure Theo promised me a roller coaster ride? In fact, I think we have a few roller coaster rides planned.”

I want to marry her. I want to get down on my knees and kiss her feet. “Of course, I promised you some roller coaster rides, cupcake. And I intend to deliver.”

Emma nearly stomps her foot. “But the Ferris wheel is fun.”