Page 86 of Perfectly Grumpy

Bart throws me a dirty look as he tosses the paddle on the beach for Abby to pick up. His expression says everything: he recognizes something in Lauren’s embrace that was never there with him.

I slide my hands to her waist, memorizing this feeling—her warmth against me, the scent of her fruity shampoo, the way she melts into me. For this brief moment, I let myself believe it’s real.

“Now it’s your turn,” I whisper, my lips close to her ear.

“Tate, I have a confession to make.” She pulls away, but not completely. “I’ve never won this race. Not even close.”

I brush a strand of hair behind her ear, letting my fingers linger against her cheek for just a beat longer than necessary. “I believe in you, Sunny.” I place the paddle in her hands, our fingers brushing in the exchange. “And I’ll be cheering for you, no matter what happens.”

“Well,” she says with a small smile, “I guess it’s time to retire that losing streak for good.”

TWENTY-EIGHT

lauren

I paddle up to the starting line where Abby waits in her canoe, adjusting her life vest like a seasoned pro. “Ready for another race?” she asks, glancing over her shoulder.

I know what she’s really asking. If I’ve improved since my second-to-last-place finish. “More ready than I thought I would be,” I answer. “Thanks to Tate.”

She appears content, but I don’t quite believe it. “That’s good. Competition makes it more fun.”

I adjust my grip on the paddle. “I imagine you’re feeling the pressure now. Bart didn’t exactly help you out in the men’s race.”

Abby’s mouth tightens before she composes herself. “We’re still ahead in total points, though.”

“For now,” I say. There was a time when competing with Abby would have tied my stomach in knots, but today I feel strangely light. Maybe it’s because I know Tate won’t be upset if I don’t place like Bart was last time.

“You know,” she says privately, “I thought you were upset about Bart and me when I brought him to the reunion. I was worried how it would affect things between us.”

I glance toward the pier where Tate standswatching me. “Honestly, Abby? You did me a favor.” My smile widens as he catches my eye. “I have someone so much better.”

Tate is better in ways I’m only beginning to understand. He’s more thoughtful. He believes in me. Even came to this reunion just to help me out. What kind of man would give up a week of summer vacation to endure his PR manager’s family reunion? And he’s sosohandsome.

Before we start the race, he gives me two enthusiastic thumbs up, completely unself-conscious about being my biggest fan. Aunt Karen’s whistle pierces the air, and I begin paddling as hard as I can. It takes a few strokes before my muscles find their rhythm, but by the time we reach the far end of the pond, I’m in second place behind Abby. I’ve never been this close to the lead before, and a surge of adrenaline pushes me forward.

Then I make my first careless mistake. As we approach the curve, I misjudge the turning radius and swing my paddle too hard. My canoe veers sideways, its hull scraping against Abby’s with a jarring screech.

“Careful!” she calls, trying to create distance. I overcorrect, jerking my paddle the opposite direction, which only sends my canoe directly into Abby’s path. Our boats collide with enough force to make them rock wildly. Desperate to separate us, I rise slightly, reaching to push her canoe away. But the moment I shift my weight, I feel it—that sudden tilt as my balance transfers to the wrong side. My canoe tips beneath me, and suddenly I’m tumbling headfirst into the pond. For a moment, I’m shocked by the cold slap of water against my skin, but my life vest buoys me back to the surface just in time to see Abby heading back toward the finish line.

I lunge for the edge of my canoe, but my body feels like lead and my arms are tired. No matter how hard I try, I can’t pull myself back into the canoe.

Everyone else in the race passes me before I hear a splash nearby—somebody’s swimming toward me, closing the distanceeffortlessly. Dark hair slicked back, water cascading down defined shoulders, Tate surfaces beside me like some mythical merman.

“Sunny,” he says, his voice laced with amusement, “do I need to save you again?” Droplets cling to his eyelashes, making his dark eyes mesmerizing.

I try to hide a smile and completely fail. “Why does it feel like you’re always saving me?”

“Maybe life keeps creating opportunities for me to be there for you. Or maybe I just like being the one you reach for when you’re in trouble.”

He treads water easily, muscles working beneath the surface as his gaze travels over me with deliberate care. “And it’s my duty as your officialboyfriendto help you.”

The word slides off his tongue too easily, even though there’s no audience to hear it. Why would he call himself my boyfriend if there’s no one to pretend for?

I glance toward the finish line where Abby’s already celebrating with Bart. The race is over, my chance at first place gone. But somehow, this moment with Tate trumps winning any awards.

“We’re definitely not getting gold medals for this performance,” I say with a quiet laugh. “But somehow I can’t bring myself to care right now.”

“Good. Because all that matters now is you’re still smiling,” he says, swimming closer until the canoe shields us from shore, creating a private moment away from the crowd. Something warm unspools in my chest, soothing and unexpected. He glances at my lips for the briefest second, and the air between us shifts. If he moved closer now, if he closed the small distance between us, I’m not sure I’d back away. For one brief moment, I wonder what it would be like to taste the warmth of his lips, to feel his smile against mine.

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