Page 66 of Kings of Sherwood

And she’s smiling. Smiling in a way you can’t fake. That looks just...real. Its own kind of magic.

The kind you can’t force.

“No,” I say at last. “I don’t think she would have.”

Chapter Sixteen

Tuck

Let’s be clear: I’ve taken girls on some bad dates. I have made some real miscalculations. A Lego exhibit at the college library. A Quiz Bowl championship. A documentary film fest that turned out to be entirely in German. And while this one isn’t even approaching the universe of how bad those went, I still feel like I kind of led things astray.

Not that Maren’s said anything. She’s way too...nice for that. And I think she had a good time—although having a good time wasn’t exactly the point.

Still, I keep looking at her sideways as we walk down the steps of the Historical Society. I feel like I need to do something to salvage the moment. Shift the tone a little.

In the sunlight, her hair refracts all the different tones—strawberry blonde to darker red—and I can see where the sun’s dropped freckles on her nose.

God, she’ssopretty.

And she’s mine. Ours.

I swallow and clench a sweaty hand like a nervous teenager all over again. I know I’m long past my ugly duckling phase, but I still can’t help but wonder if people see the two of us and think,What is she doing with him?

But then she meets my eyes and smiles...and I forget all about it.

“You want to get something to eat?” I ask, nodding toward the town square and the cluster of restaurants on the other side. “We’re already out. Shame to waste a trip into town, right?”

Maren considers, then looks at our ride—the car she apparently hates. She scowls. “Anything to avoid getting back in that thing for a while.” To me, she just smiles. “Sure. What are you thinking?”

We settle on the Mexican place across the way with patio seating and paper lanterns hanging from the umbrellas. I pull out the chair for her, which makes her laugh a little, and we put in for a round of margaritas and chips.

Maren looks around, taking it all in, but my eyes are just on her.

“Penny for your thoughts?” I offer.

She chuckles. “I don’t know. Is this what life’s gonna be like eventually? Regular dates, like we’re any old people?

I chuckle. “Yeah... I’m gonna say probably not with us,” I say. I put my hands on the table, interlace my fingers on the bright paper mat. “But, well, I don’t know about the rest of them, but I’ll do my best to create some kind of normalcy.”

“Some kind of normalcy is good,” she says. “As long as it’s not too normal.”

Her drink arrives, and she flashes me a smile as she takes a sip.

I open my mouth, about to start some inane topic of conversation, when an excited, high-pitched voice cuts me off.

“Maren?”

Maren’s head is on a swivel, and she jerks around to see the source—but it’s not a threat. It’s three girls around her age. Vaguely familiar, I feel...but why?

They rush over from the hostess stand, not bothering to wait to be shown to a table.

“From the Crossbridge the other night, remember?” one of them says.

Ah—yes. It clicks. They were on the dance floor with us. Not bad dancers. Not that I’m one to judge.

“Right,” Maren says, and the smile on her face is actually genuine. “Totally. It’s good to see you.”

“Mackenzie,” says one, a hand on her chest, clearly for my benefit. “That’s Taylor. And this is Grace.” She turns to me. “And you’re...Tucker?”

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