I laugh under my breath, shaking my head. “So… if I walked over there and decked Dylan for being a mouthy jackass, that’d be fine by you?”
“Wouldn’t mind.” She leans in, eyes twinkling. “Heck, son. I’d clear a path for you.”
Son.
The word lands with a little thud in my chest. Simple. Casual. But somehow, it hits harder than any punch.
She starts to rise, but I catch her arm before she can make a getaway. “No more hitting, okay? I’ve got to clean up my image if I want to keep my spot on the Bucks. Just so you know, I made a secret pact with Jaylynn.”
Her face lights up like a Christmas tree. “She’s a sweet one, Penn. Everyone loves her—well, except for SpicyGranny74. Though she turned out just fine. Got her own podcast now.”
I blink at Aunt Elaine. Strange duck? Sure. But the woman’s got her finger firmly on the social media pulse.
“All right, spill. What’s this pact about?” she pushes.
She unzips her coat while I shrug off mine, settling in for the truth. I lean in a little. “I need to fix my image. So, she’s helping.”
“And in return?”
Her milky blue eyes lock onto mine.
I glance around at Dylan and Peppermint Barbie, busy snapping fish-lip selfies, then lower my voice. “I pretend to be her boyfriend. Maybe even fiancé. She has to pull off this festival without a hitch if she wants a real job again. I’m going to help her with that, and with Dylan back in town…”
Elaine finishes for me with a grin, “She wants to rub it in that she snagged a famous hockey player.”
“Something like that,” I murmur, not exactly feeling famous—or sure I’m even a hockey player for much longer.
“I like this plan,” she says, genuinely pleased just as Jaylynn arrives with fresh mugs, pouring from a full carafe.
“That smells amazing,” I say, grateful for the caffeine.
“Elaine, I love your mitts,” Jaylynn chimes as my aunt peels them off.
Elaine beams. “I could make you a pair, you know.”
“That’s sweet, but I could never rock them like you do,” Jaylynn smiles warmly at me, and I can’t help but love how gracious she is with Elaine.
Elaine turns her attention back to us, pointing a finger between the two of us like a seasoned detective. “So… you and my boy here. Faking a relationship.” She leans in, eyes twinkling with mischief. “But what I really want to know is… is the sex real?”
Ho. Ho. Holy shit.
5
Jaylynn
If Peppermint Barbie clicks her nails on the long boardroom table one more time, I swear I’m going to stab myself in the eye with my pen. Honestly, it might be less painful. At least that injury comes with a trip to urgent care and an excuse to leave early.
“So,” I say, dragging out the word with as much subtle irritation as I can pack into a single syllable. “Is that it? Did we cover everything?”
Sometimes these town meetings feel like a group therapy session nobody asked for. I mean, half of this could’ve been an email. But our town clerk, Mr. Ben Tingley, likes to hold them in person. Ever since Marianne passed, I think he just… needs the company. Which makes me feel like a monster for even wishing this was a Zoom call with a mute button.
“Where are we with the signs?” I ask Cassie, our spirited library trustee, who’s currently wearing a cardigan covered in miniature snowmen. “They should’ve been here weeks ago,” I add.
She huffs dramatically. “It took far too long for Ben to agree on the theme.”
“That’s because ‘Peppermint Wishes and Mistletoe Kisses’ is ridiculous,” Ben grumbles.
“It’s romantic,” Cassie shoots back, eyes narrowed, as if daring him to challenge her Hallmark-level vision of joy.