She leaned over and whispered, “I feel like we’re being watched.”
Sam glanced around the room. At least two sets of eyes were squarely fixed on them—Dottie’s and Dylan’s.
“You’re right.” Ah, so that’s what this was. She was putting on a show. Well, so could he.
Tinka lifted up the popcorn between them and moved the containers to the floor. “May I?”
Sam nodded and she scooted toward him, leaning hard against his side. His heart sped up as he wrapped his arm around her and she rested her head against his chest. Suddenly the room emptied. He no longer saw Dylan or Dottie or Jane or Karen. No one else existed except Sam and Tinka, the weight of her head on his chest, her hair teasing his cheek, her scent of vanilla and orange shampoo. He pulled her in tighter and she nuzzled into him.
“We could kiss again.” She was looking up at him with big eyes that were gray in the darkness. “I mean, because it’s what people expect. That’s what happens here on Saturday nights.”
“Too true.” The cool, indifferent Sam who’d told Tinka their first kiss had meant nothing to him could totally handle another one. The real Sam, the one who was having trouble forming words with his mouth because his entire consciousness was full of Tinka, would not walk away from this unscathed.
She rested her hand on his chest, and any possibility of Sam staying rational tonight fled the room. “I’m only saying this,” she said, “because, obviously, when the two of us kiss, it’s no sexier than a handshake.”
This conversation was sexier than a handshake. Sam took a deep breath and squeezed her arm. He would be cool, indifferent Sam, because cool, indifferent Sam got to kiss Tinka. “Obviously. I believe I compared kissing you to kissing my sister. It’d be transactional, like using an ATM.” An ATM that dispensed rainbows and hearts and heat and completely took his breath away.
“So?” Her lips parted, inviting him to her. He could stop this. Maybe he should stop it. Or maybe he should stop thinking and see where it went, even if his head knew this had the potential to end in disaster.
Well, screw you, brain. Disaster or not, the rest of Sam really wanted this.
He leaned down and touched his lips to Tinka’s. She straightened up, improving the angle of their kiss, and wrapped her arms around his neck. Sam was fully prepared for her to pull away after a few seconds, after they’d proven their point, and he was ready to let her, but she didn’t. She deepened the kiss, her tongue searching his mouth, and his searching hers. Sam’s heart slowed down, but his breath sped up.
He shuddered with pleasure as she left a trail of kisses from his mouth to his ear, where she whispered, “We are really good at this fake kissing thing.”
“So, so stinking good at it.” And then his mouth was on hers again and his hands were in her hair and the two of them stayed like that for the rest of the movie—tasting each other and nibbling earlobes and touching necks and arms and hands—until the credits rolled and the lights came up.
Tinka pulled away, panting. Her eyes met his. “Wow,” she said. “Well.”
“I hope that convinced them,” Sam said.
She hesitated a second, then leaned in and whispered, “I think it may have convinced me.”
Chapter Eleven
“I am not the Pinterest-y girl you’re looking for,” Tinka said, as she and Sam climbed the front steps to her house.
They’d been out all day doing wedding stuff, boyfriend/girlfriend-type stuff. The line between real and fake was so blurry at this point, Tinka was considering LASIK. She’d actually helped Sam buy candles and mason jars for centerpieces and a decorative birdcage to hold gift envelopes. She’d offered her expert opinion on ribbon colors. She didn’t do those kinds of things with just anybody. But she was happy doing them with Sam. She’d do anything with him.
“But you’re a baker,” he said.
“Yeah. And that’s where my craftiness ends.” On the front porch, Sam stood next to her, towering over her. All day there’d been this electricity between them, though neither of them had done anything about it. That was one way the two of them were currently not acting like a couple—there was no touching. They didn’t hold hands, hug, kiss. They didn’t do any of the things they’d done back when “fake” dating was a joke, back before they spent ninety minutes making out in the back of Maurice’s video store.
It was a conscious effort on Tinka’s part. She’d let things go too far during Girls Just Want to Have Fun. They needed to dial it back—revert to the safety of friendship.
She nodded toward the house. “Jane is who you want to talk to about tying ribbons and whatnot.”
“Jane, huh?” His eyes flashed and a smile played on his soft lips, and she caught herself before brushing an errant curl off his forehead. He had her off-balance. He had her thinking about dragging him downstairs to her 1970s bachelor pad, and never letting him go. But that’s not what he wanted, and it wasn’t part of their deal.
Tinka shook the sense back into her head. “Definitely Jane. She’s the queen of craftiness.”
All business, she pulled open the door. But in the living room, they found Tinka’s mom plopped on the floor, resting her head on the coffee table. Her dad was perched on the drop cloth-covered couch, rubbing her mom’s back. Both of them had obviously been crying. They were surrounded by boxes and other assorted items— kid’s stuff, Jake’s stuff. His favorite toy dinosaur, the real, 3-D Dorothy, was standing in the middle of the coffee table.
Tinka expected to see shock on Sam’s face, or maybe embarrassment over witnessing this private moment between her parents, but there was none of that. His eyes were sad and watery. He got it. He understood.
Her mom and dad had been so happy since moving to North Pole, and Tinka’s heart broke for them now. One toy dinosaur still had the power to crush them. “You found Jake’s stuff.”
Wiping her eyes, Tinka’s mom lifted her head and plastered on a smile. “We were trying to find the Christmas decorations. When in Rome.”
Tinka’s dad kept staring at the opposite wall, not turning around. He was shielding his teary face from her and Sam. Tinka went to her mom and wrapped an arm around her shoulders.
Her mom nuzzled a cheek against Tinka’s arm. “We opened the wrong boxes.”
Tinka rubbed her mother’s back. She’d once found her mom, who had coincidentally been looking for Christmas decorations back then, too, cradling that same dinosaur in their garage in Minneapolis. She’d wiped her eyes, and said it was nothing. Then she and Tinka’s dad had disappeared for three days, leaving Tinka with her Aunt Marie, who’d spent the weekend telling Tinka that it was her duty to keep her parents happy.
Tinka wouldn’t let them skip out on her this time. Maybe they’d talk to her, finally.
“You guys had been doing so well.” And they had been. They’d been like completely different people.
“We still are.” Her mom straightened up. “We’re having a moment of grief, that’s all. Carol says—” She clapped a hand over her mouth.
“Who’s Carol?” Tinka asked.
Her dad hesitated. “New friend. Lives in town.”
“Whatever.” She was trying to help, but they still refused to tell her anything. They’d built a wall between themselves and Tinka, and they were determined to make sure it stayed standing. Tinka got up and started tossing the toys back into the boxes. She’d hide them somewhere her parents wouldn’t find them, because that’s how they’d always done things. Suppress emotions, deny the past, act like everything’s fine. The Fosters should have that stitched on a pillow.
But Sam picked up Dorothy before Tinka could shove the dinosaur back in its box. “I had one of these. Or one similar. Jake liked dinosaurs?”
Tinka’s dad coughed and turned his face away from Sam. “He did. Very much.”
Sam sat in the covered armchair across the room from Tinka’s dad and folded his hands in his lap. “I find stuff of my mom’s around the house all the time. It always shocks
me. I’ll find one of her lipsticks under the bathroom sink or a grocery list in the kitchen drawer. Every once in a while I’ll smell her in the house, and then I realize it’s my sister, who wears the same perfume.”
“It reopens the wounds,” Tinka’s dad said.
“Yeah,” Sam agreed. “But it also makes me feel like she’s still there, somewhere, keeping an eye on me and my brother and sisters, like every little reminder is her way of saying, ‘I’m here.’”
“That’s lovely, Sam.” Tinka’s mom frowned. “That was the hardest part about leaving Minneapolis, leaving those memories.”
Tinka snickered and almost said, “You think?” but stopped herself. This wasn’t the moment to be snide. If they were ever going to open up to her, maybe she’d have to be the one to start. She plucked Dorothy from Sam’s hands and ran her palm along its rubbery skin. “Jake drew a picture of this dinosaur on the wall in our old living room.”
Her parents turned to face her, stunned. It wasn’t like her to discuss Jake. She usually avoided the topic at all costs.
She pointed to where Sam was sitting. “You two put that chair in front of the drawing, but I knew it was there. When I was mad at you, I’d lie underneath it and talk to Jake through Dorothy.”
“Oh my goodness!” Her mom wasn’t upset; she was beaming.
Tinka smiled. “I’d tell her how mean you were being.”
“Him.” Her mom laughed for real now, which made her dad chuckle. “Dorothy’s a boy.”
Tinka grinned harder. She’d made her parents laugh. She couldn’t remember the last time that had happened. They only laughed for Mark and Trish, as far as she knew.
“I had no idea,” her mom said. “When did you stop doing that?”
“I never did. When I found out you guys had sold the house, losing the drawing was maybe the hardest thing to take.” She went over to the fireplace, knelt down, and pointed to where she’d drawn her own Dorothy. “I made a new one.”
“Honey.” Her mom reached for her from across the room.
Tinka shook her head. “I’m fine. Really.”
Her mom wiped her nose with the back of her hand. “And so are we, so don’t worry about us. Your dad and I were long overdue for a meltdown. We’ve been able to start fresh here, for the most part, but sometimes things hit you when you least expect them. We deal with it head-on now, instead of tamping it down.”
“It’s like Sam said.” Tinka smiled at him. “It’s good to remember Jake.”
“It is.” Her dad stood and pulled a photo from his pocket. “This is him.” He handed the picture to Sam, the one of Jake swinging the golf club. Her dad was showing it to everyone these days, apparently.
Sam glanced at it, and then handed it back to Tinka’s dad. “Good form.”
“Did you know Tinka golfs because of Jake?” Her dad folded the photo and put it back in his pocket.
Frowning at Tinka, Sam pursed his lips and shook his head.
“She was three, I think. About the same age Jake was in the photo.” Her dad was chipper all of a sudden. “She saw this in my office and said, ‘I want to do that.’ I took her out to the driving range immediately, and she’s golfed ever since.” He mimed putting. This was almost an exact replica of the conversation he’d had with Dylan a few weeks ago. Apparently he was reciting his little monologue to everyone. “It’s like she channels her brother through the game, and it’s one way we keep his memory alive.”
Tinka felt Sam’s eyes on her, but she couldn’t look at him. This was why she could never have the “I don’t want to golf” conversation with her dad, and Sam was seeing it firsthand. There was too much mixed up in it. She couldn’t break his heart. This, her tie to Jake’s legacy, was the thing keeping her dad going.
Rescuing her, Sam stood and hugged Mr. and Mrs. Foster. “If you ever need anything, someone to talk to, golf with, whatever, I’m your guy.”
“Thank you, Sam,” her dad said.
“Is Jane around?” Tinka asked, though the thought of working on wedding centerpieces right now sickened her.
Her mom frowned. “I think she and Karen went into town. They’ll be back later.”
“I’m going to steal Tinka, if that’s all right.” Sam stepped toward the door, and Tinka followed him.
When they were safely outside, he clasped his hands behind his back. “Are you okay?”
She nodded, noting the absence of his arms around her. “Who the hell is Carol?” She blinked back tears.
“Carol?”
She nodded toward the house. “Their new friend in town?” Again, here were her parents with this secret life Tinka knew nothing about—moving to new places, making new friends, talking like they’ve been reading self-help books.
Sam hesitated. “I don’t think there’s…I kind of got the impression that maybe Carol is a counselor or something, you know? A therapist.”
She wiped her eyes with the heels of her palms. “Crap, you’re right. They’ve been seeing somebody. That’s what all this is about.” She waved her hand to indicate the mess of a house her parents had bought. “Why not tell me? Why not be honest about it?”
Sam wrinkled his nose. “Like you’ve been honest with them?”
Smiling, she moved to punch him lightly on the arm, but she stopped herself and wrapped her own arms behind her back. “Shut your face.” She retreated a bit, widening the gap between them.
“Do you really talk to a dinosaur drawing?” Sam smirked.
“Yeah? So?” But it hit Tinka then that she hadn’t been using Dorothy the same way she had back in Minneapolis. In their old house, Dorothy got all the news, all the drama. But here, the only thing Tinka talked to Dorothy about was Sam, because Tinka talked to him about everything else. He was more to her than just a cute guy she liked to kiss. He was her only confidante.
She glanced back at the closed front door. “I can’t go back in there. Not right now. You want to go somewhere else?” It hadn’t been what she’d meant, but her mind jumped to the couch at Maurice’s. That had been a colossal mistake, and it was all on her. She was the one who’d initiated it. Sam had balked, and she’d talked him into it because she was a selfish person who drew people into her vortex and held them there until she spit them out. She reached up and touched the plastic ring, which was still around her neck, hidden under her shirt. She would not spit out Sam.
Sam’s eyes went to her hand. “Good luck charm.”
“Exactly.” Tinka swallowed. The lump in her throat overwhelmed her. “Sam.”
His eyes went to hers, and she nearly told him everything. He was the neo-Dorothy, after all. She opened her mouth, but the words got stuck.
“You need a distraction,” he said.
She nodded.
Sam gestured toward the steps. “Then I know just the place.”
…
Sam led Tinka over to his house. He could think of no better distraction than the Anderson clan. “Hello, family,” he said.
The entire crew, who were setting up to play Trivial Pursuit at the kitchen table, glanced up as Sam and Tinka crossed the threshold. “I hope this is okay?” Sam whispered.
“Not where I thought you’d take me,” Tinka said, “but yeah. Board games might be exactly what the doctor ordered.”
Sam coughed nervously. “Hi, everybody. This is Tinka. Tinka, this is everybody.”
He waved his arm to indicate his entire family plus Hakeem, who would finally, officially become family for real this weekend, and Harper’s friend, Elena, whom the Andersons had always treated like family, anyway.
Harper whispered, “The girlfriend,” to Matthew and Hakeem, whose eyes swung right over to Tinka. Sam’s face went hot. He had never, ever brought someone home before. Now he was bringing home the girl who was pretending to be his girlfriend, who he wanted to be his actual girlfriend.
If Matthew and Harper ever found out he and Tinka had been fake dating, Sam would literally never hear the end of it.
Sam�
�s dad stood and shook Tinka’s hand. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you. Sam has told us all about the cookies you’ve made for him.”
Harper passed out game pieces. “He had to tell us about them, because it’s not like he saved any to share.”
“Maybe I would’ve saved you some, if you hadn’t abandoned me for summer camp,” Sam said.
“I can make some more,” Tinka said. “Any excuse to use your kitchen.”
“Join us.” Hakeem pulled out the chair next to him. “I need another non-Anderson over here, someone who doesn’t have the entire box of questions memorized.”
“He needs you to help him feel better about his own lack of trivia knowledge.” Matthew nudged Hakeem in the side.
Hakeem feigned outrage, then rested his head on his fiancé’s shoulder. Sam grinned. His summer had been fine so far—better than anticipated, with Tinka around—but having his entire family back together lit him up from the inside.
Tinka took the seat next to Hakeem, shaking his hand and Matthew’s.
“Do you like dissecting things?” Matthew asked.
Tinka shook her head.
Sam shot him a “cut it” look, swiping his hand across his neck.
“Let’s do teams.” Harper pointed to herself. “Me and Elena, Matthew and Hakeem, Dad and Maddie, and Sam and Tinka.”
“Sounds good.” Sam pulled up a chair next to Tinka. “So, what are your strengths? Obviously, I’ve got entertainment covered. Harper’s also pretty good at that one, so watch out. Elena knows sports—”
“Let her figure this stuff out on her own,” Elena said.
“She needs to know, in case one of you fools ends up in the center. We’re not giving you a freaking hockey question,” Sam said.
“Fair enough.” Elena’s family owned a sporting goods store, and she’d managed to absorb a lot of knowledge from working there.
“Matthew’s the history buff. Hakeem is an English grad student, so no arts and literature questions for him ever.” Sam widened his eyes at his father. “And Dad.” He grinned.
Artificial Sweethearts (North Pole, Minnesota) Page 14
