Page 51 of Fall Fake-Out

And maybe it was.

My mother hears the semblance of whispers and leans over me with a cutting gaze for Wade.

“Big development.” His lips physically brush against my earlobe as his whisper goes softer. “Barb Langford appears moments away from excommunicating me. Or perhaps she’s just mentally measuring my grave.”

“Keep talking, and she’ll start digging it.”

A laugh rumbles low in his chest.

The sound vibrates through his chest.

And now I’m enjoying making him laugh.

Is this how fake relationships go?

Farther up the pews, Archer Kade glances back at us too. His expression shows surprise over how quickly I get around. Thursday blind date with him. Friday night straddles. And Sunday, a brand-new relationship. I’ve had quite the weekend.

“Oof,” Wade whispers. “Ex-rodeo cowboy seems hurt by the new boyfriend. Tough break for him.”

This makes me bite my lip, even though I highly doubt Archer is disappointed. He’s not interested in me—our forced date made that clear.

“And now,” Pastor Bruce says from the pulpit, “we’d like to invite the choir up to the front to sing a hymn.”

There’s some shuffling as a few people stand and shimmy their way through their rows. Beside me, Wade stands.

He turns to me with his hand extended. “Let’s do this.”

The giant V between my brows should be answer enough, but just in case he doesn’t read me, I shake my head vehemently.

Then he says the three words I’ve never been able to resist. “I dare you.”

I’m not a singer, nor do I know anything about reading sheet music, but there’s a pause—a moment where I actually consider going up there with Wade.

But I don’t.

I shake my head again, adding a sly smile.

I’d rather watch him do this dare on his own.

He shrugs like he’s unaffected by my challenge and walks up to the front with the other choir members. Kory Saunders, the local plumber, shares his hymnbook with him since Wade came up empty-handed.

Sharon Price plays the opening piano notes to the song. I suck in an excited breath.

Then the choir starts.

Wade is clearly lost, but his confidence doesn’t waver. He tries to follow along, his voice going low when it should’ve gone high. The dark-haired Edna looks around the other choir members to give him a stern warning, but he lifts his chin and looks directly at me.

He’s not pulling silly faces.

No.

There’s commitment to the choir. He’s flashing serious singing expressions like this church choir means more to him than anything else in his entire life. Others in the audience wouldn’t pick up on it. But I do.

And before I can stop myself, laughter slips out of me in the form of a giggle. My mom nudges my side as a warning, but that somehow makes it worse. I cover my mouth and look down because if I keep staring at Wade in his theatrical debut, I’ll never make it through this song without completely losing it.

A woman only has so much control.

But it’s during that musical number that I realize this is the best church service I’ve ever been to, and I owe it all to Wade.