The Natural History of Us (The Fine Art of Pretending #2)

That was when I’d dropped the friend being a boy part of the scenario.

Strangely enough, it didn’t much seem to matter. Mama had heard all about Dad’s skilled catcher over countless dinners, she’d met him a few times here at the ranch, and most importantly, her big, bleeding heart couldn’t stand for anyone to be lonely. Hinting at how horrible his parents were, without going into any specifics of course, had cinched the deal.

For Dad’s part, he’d been suspicious at first. Hesitant after that. But thanks to my Oscar-worthy performance, proclaiming my relationship with his catcher to be strictly platonic, he’d approved the plan with flying colors.

My latent guilt was growing palpable.

“I’m proud of you, angel girl,” Dad told me now, hugging me to his side. “I appreciate you watching out for my boys.”

I nodded as my stomach churned, shame settling like a rock. But Justin was worth it.

“Team Williams sticks together, right?” I replied, fighting for a smile. He beamed back at me and it fell with a thud. This officially sucked. “Besides, I was glad to help. Justin’s a good guy.”

A hotter than hot, incredibly-gifted-at-kissing good guy. Something told me Dad’s feelings would change in a heartbeat if he knew that, though, so with the familiar warmth of a blush heating my cheeks, I peered back out into the night…

And jumped about a foot when two bright lights pierced the dark.

He was here. Finally. Arguably the hottest guy in school, at the very least the freshman class, would soon walk through my front door with a duffle bag… a bag I’d packed for him no less… and then live with me for four whole days.

My euphoria was matched only by my trepidation.

Naked baby pictures were hidden, the main bath had been cleaned of tampons, and I’d made Mama vow on her prized Elvis statue that she wouldn’t do anything over-the-top insane. But I’d yet to get anywhere near that far with Dad. I’d been too busy watching the stupid, car-less view out the window.

I latched onto his hand. “Please, please, for the love of Easter bunnies, don’t embarrass me this weekend.”

“Would I do that?” he asked, his face a picture of innocence. I didn’t buy it for a second. “I’m thrilled that you’re friends with Justin. He’s one of my best players. And I’m happy he’ll be here with us instead of alone.” Outside, a car door slammed and his eyes sharpened to steel. “But you should know, I will be watching.”

Boom! The parental gauntlet had been thrown. Two seconds later, footsteps pounded up the front stairs and a knock sounded on the door.

Mama set the tray of cookies on the coffee table. “Peyton, would you like to get that?”

“Mmhmm.” I swiped my sweaty hands down the sides of my jeans, fighting a telltale blush. Okay, so, apparently neither of my parents were fully sold on the platonic song and dance, and now they’d both be watching us like crotchety old nuns at a first boy-girl dance. That didn’t mean we couldn’t still have fun. Right?

Another knock pounded the door and Mama gave me a knowing look. “Want me to—?”

“No, I got it.” I needed to chill. My hesitation only fed their suspicions.

Determined to be the embodiment of calm, breezy, and totally unaffected, I rushed toward the door, forgetting my lingering balance issues, and the fact that I was in bare socks. The cotton was no match for our laminate wood. I skidded across the floor, managing to stub a toe, knock over a coat rack, and bang my elbow against the wall with a muted oaf! before throwing open the door with decidedly unchill flair.

Justin’s eyebrows shot to his hairline. “Uh, hey there, Sunshine.”

My heart knocked like a giddy bird inside my chest at his lopsided grin. Looking behind me toward the living room, Justin quickly dropped the smile and straightened his shoulders.

“Coach,” he said with a brisk nod. “Mrs. Williams. Thanks for letting me stay with you.”

As I fought to regain normal breathing patterns, he stooped to pick up a potted plant at his feet, an Easter lily, Mama’s favorite. Yep, he’d just achieved gold-star status.

“It’s not much,” Justin said, handing the plant over to my mom. He shoved his hands deep in his pockets. “But I know how much my being here is a hassle. I’ll do anything I can to pitch in. Wash dogs, muck stalls, whatever you need, put me to work. I’m happy to do it.”

I had a hunch happy was overstating things, considering he’d never once mucked a stall. Or tried to bathe a hundred pound Doberman. But I couldn’t help but smile. Bad boy Carter was a parent charmer. Who knew?

Mama, charmed as all get out, ushered him inside as she held her flowers tight. “This is so thoughtful, Justin, really, but it’s no hassle at all. We’re happy you’re here. Though in all fairness, we should warn you… it’s gonna be a mad house.”

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