Free The Hero and the Fat Girl (New Hampshire Bears #3) by Mary Smith Page B

Remington asks. “I’m your what?”
    Damn.
    I step out of his hold. Do I tell him the truth?
    “Dad! Max!” Arabella calls from downstairs, and I hear her racing up the stairs toward us.
    “In here, Arabella,” Remington calls, and he hands me the washcloth again.
    I wipe my face again and pat it dry while he goes into the bedroom. Feelings for Remington are out of the question. He might be my hero, but I’m just a fat girl who’s in a fake engagement. I can’t have any feelings.
    I stroll out of the bathroom and down to the living room where everyone is sitting.
    “Max,” Arabella wraps her arms around my waist.
    “Did you have fun with your grandparents?”
    “So much.” She smiles up at me. “Grandpa is taking us to dinner.”
    “That sounds like fun.”
    “Actually,” Daniel, Remington’s father, interrupts. “I said I’d make dinner, but my forgetful son didn’t set up the grill.”
    Oh no! He looks upset. “Mr. Rosin, it’s my fault, not Remington’s. I came home early, and he was helping me.” I sound almost pleading, hoping he isn’t going to start yelling.
    “Maxima.” Claire, Remington’s mother, stands and approaches me. “He’s kidding with Remy. He’s not upset.” Her tone is soft and low.
    “Maxima.” Remington is next to her. “You can let Arabella go.”
    “What?” I’m baffled until I look down and see Arabella pushed against the wall, and I’m blocking her with my body. “Oh my God, are you okay?”
    “Yes,” she frowns. “You pushed me, Max. Why?”
    “I’m so sorry.” I hug her to me. “I didn’t mean to. I swear. I was—”
    “Arabella, why don’t you go with your Dad and Grandpa? Okay.” Claire doesn’t leave room for any other option.
    The little girl nods and takes Remington’s hand. I scared her. I can’t believe I did something so stupid.
    “Maxima, let’s sit for a moment.” Claire holds her arm out toward the couch. “Sweetheart, you’re shaking. Let’s take a seat.” She says it more firmly, and my legs begin to move following her to the couch.
    “I’m sorry,” I repeat several times.
    “You’re fine. My husband’s sense of humor is dry and rough. It takes time to get used to it. Protecting my granddaughter was instinctual, just like a mother.”
    I don’t say anything.
    “I’ve seen the look in your eyes in other people. I won’t ask you who or any details, but if you ever need to talk, Remington is a great listener. You can trust him. He may have a lot of unorthodox methods to express himself, buy my son deeply cares for you.”
    I nod. I experienced it first hand less than an hour ago.
    “You’re not shaking anymore.” She smiles. Her eyes are more of a golden brown, but they are welcoming, accepting.
    “I feel better.” I’m able to breathe again, and I take in everything she told me about Remington.
    Does he really care for me? I’m sure he hasn’t told his parents the truth about our fake engagement. She’s just being kind. Even though he’s been helpful, there’s more to this strange relationship of ours.
    “Let’s see what those boys are up to.” Gently patting my knee, she stands, and I follow her out to the back patio.
    Daniel and Remington have the grill going, but no meat is on it yet. Arabella is curled up in one of the chairs looking at her dad’s phone.
    I pat Remington’s shoulder as I pass him and head to Arabella, taking a seat next to her. “What level are you on?”
    “Eight.” She smiles and then comes over and climbs onto my lap. “See.”
    I still don’t understand the video game, but she seems to forgive me. It’s the only thing I do care about.
    Remington and Daniel work the grill, and as soon as Arabella finishes her level, we head into the kitchen to make up some side items. No one speaks of my crazy moment, and Remington seems the same after my breakdown with him.
    When we sit down to eat, the conversation is light. Daniel tell stories about Remington’s early years playing