Page 42 of The Art of Falling in Love with Your Enemy
“The grant we applied for, for the canine therapy unit.” Lane shakes his head and shoves his phone back in his pocket. “We didn’t get it.”
Am I bummed? Yes. I’d spent a lot of time working on the grant and had my hopes up that we’d get it.
“So, what happens now?” Tuck questions.
“It’s not the end of the world; we’re still fundraising and we even have the charity ball next week, but it means we can’t start as soon as we hoped.” Shrugging my shoulders, I grab a barstool and sit down. “We’ll get there, it’s just going to take a lot longer.”
Lane sighs. “Time is one of those things that isn’t on our side with this. The sooner we have a unit like this in motion, the better it is for our community and for our policing.”
He looks my way and holds his bottle in the air. “Here’s to you, Zac. You did a lot to try to get it over the line. We’ll try again next year.”
As Tuck and Brett start throwing darts and warming up for a game, Lane marches up to my side. “So, did I overhear you say you made a bet with Etta as the prize?”
I’m beginning to understand how small-town rumors get started now.
Tuck pipes up as he tosses his first dart. “No, it’s a bet with a baseball card as the prize.”
“Oh?” His eyes wide, Brett chuckles as he shakes his head. “You’d better tell her about this.”
“Why?”
“Do you like her?” Brett asks.
My eyes bounce back and forth from Dubs, to Tuck, to Lane, then back to Brett, who still shakes his head from side to side. I’m man enough to admit it.
“I do.”
“Then tell her.” Dubs pats me on the back as he walks past. “So she knows ahead of time. It won’t matter if you do like her and have wanted to date her forever—if she finds out after the fact, she’ll ghost you.”
Tuck’s about to toss a second dart when he stops himself. “You really think you may like her? Like, like her, like her?”
Rolling my eyes, I bump a shrug. “What are we, stuck in middle school for life? Yes, I like her, like her. But…”
“But what?” Tuck repeats.
“But it’s a small town. But I know what she’s going through. But I make her crazy. But the timing isn’t right…”
“I love a good excuse, don’t you, Brett?” Lane asks, winking.
“The only excuse I want to hear is when someone explains to me why we’re not finishing up this game right now.” Brett holds his darts up and tips his chin at the board. “Tuck, step aside.”
“And we thought we were competitive,” Tuck whispers in a hushed tone as the other two get back to their game.
“Yeah, I think my knack for getting fired up and wanting to win could have gotten me into trouble this time.” I grab a seat at the small kitchen table and park it. “I need to tell her about us making this bet so she doesn’t think the only reason I wanted to ask her out was to win.”
Tuck makes a face. “Wasn’t it?”
I smack Tuck’s arm. “Not the point. The winning got me spurred on, but if we’re honest, I took the bet for Etta. Don’t forget, twice you tried to get me to take the bet and I said no.”
“True,” Tuck concurs. “So…what now?”
“I do what I need to do. I’ll talk to her before the fundraiser and set everything straight.”
“You do realize if she pulls out of going, technically you won’t win the bet.”
I’m starting to understand why sibling rivalry is a thing. “Tuck, I don’t care.”
But I do care about what Etta thinks. Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I find her name and send her a quick text before crossing my fingers.
