The Belle and the Beard by Kate Canterbary (good book club books .txt) 📕

Enough people had used Jasper and they'd used her in ways that were wrong from the start. I wasn't going to be one of those people.

"Are we looking for anything today?" she asked. "A specific tree or something?"

"Nothing in particular," I said, watching as she picked her way around a cluster of rocks. "We might be able to find some chanterelles though. We've had a good amount of overnight rain in the past couple of weeks."

"And chanterelles are…?"

"Mushrooms," I replied, reaching for my phone. "Here. I'll find a photo so you can keep an eye out."

She leaned against my chest while I searched for a good image. Her hair was coiled in a low bun and smelled so lovely, just so lovely, and I could see down her shirt from this angle. Life was really good.

"Why are we looking for these mushrooms?"

"My mother likes them," I replied. "She doesn't have much patience for foraging but she's appreciative whenever I bring some home."

Jasper nodded as she studied the image on my screen. "So, you're trying to butter her up with fungus? Are you that worried about bringing me home to meet the family?"

I pocketed my phone, giving her a bland stare. "No. I'm not worried."

"But you'd like to get on your mother's good side. With the fungus."

"Believe me, Peach, bringing you home by itself lands me on the good side." I grabbed a fallen branch and tossed it out of the path. I wasn't sure how much I wanted to tell her—if anything—about my mother's anniversary party deadline. I didn't want Jasper thinking any part of this was a game to me. I really didn't want her to think I was manipulating her. "My mother is very interested in seeing me paired up."

"That is not new information." She glanced over at me, a cheeky grin stretched across her face. "She did not hide her enthusiasm the other day. There was definitely a minute when she looked me up and down and said to herself, 'Yep, those are some good birthing hips.'"

I barked out a laugh but didn't disagree because my mother would absolutely do that. "The chanterelles will give her something else to focus on for five and a half minutes. That will help with the overall hovering and gushing. She might even hold off on asking you how many kids you'd like to have."

"Not for long," Jasper said with a laugh.

"Just ask her about Magnolia and the babies or Ash and Zelda's wedding," I said. "That will distract her."

"Okay, got it." She gave me the cutest wink in the world, one I was certain she didn't intend to be cute but came out that way nonetheless. Then, "So, family dinners are a pretty big deal for y'all, huh?"

This part of the trail was completely empty. That was normal around here. We were far from the primary trails, and even in the busiest of seasons, these woods rarely reached anything resembling busy.

"I can't decide if I'd call it a big deal or a normal mechanism of my family's functioning. The truth lies somewhere in between."

"Then you've made a tradition of it."

"I think we inherited the tradition, at least some parts of it. I think it goes back to my grandparents or even my great-grandparents."

"Yeah, that's a tradition." Jasper pointed at an oak tree ahead. "Is that your mushroom?"

"That's chicken of the woods. Not a chanterelle."

"Do we like that?"

I shook my head. "Not a ton, no."

"Okay, well, back to your multigenerational traditions, please. I want the full briefing before you send me in."

"It's not a multigenerational tradition, that much I know." I laughed because my parents were some of the least traditional people I knew. At least they'd started out that way. "Look, this might come as a shock but my parents were pretty countercultural before they had us. Anti-establishment, fight the power, down with the man."

"Is that why you and your siblings have botanical names?"

"Babe, you should hear our middle names. Magnolia got off easy with Lynn but Ash's middle name is Indigo."

"That's precious. Bless him and his bespoke-suited heart." Jasper stopped, turned to face me. "And what about you?"

"Wolf."

"What?"

"Yeah. I know. Wolf is a crazy name."

She gave me an owlish stare, her dark eyes round and her lips parted. "That can't be true."

I nodded. "Wild, isn't it?"

She turned her stare to the ground. "No, I mean—wait. I don't know how to explain this."

"Don't tell me your middle name is also Wolf. That would be weird."

"No, I don't have a middle name but you have a very wolfish way about you." She glanced up. "I've thought this for weeks. Since I met you."

"Tell me how you want me to take that, Jas."

"There's no particular way I want you to take it," she replied, her fingers on her temples because she found something about my response exasperating. "Just know that your parents got that one right and I won't be able to sympathize with you on their countercultural ways since it's worked out quite spectacularly for me."

I brought my hand to her shoulder, tugged her close. "I like the sound of that."

"I…I am just trying to process this new bit of reality. You should probably finish your story about dinners and traditions and everything while I have this existential moment."

"Well, my parents made a big deal about making the old ways fit into their lives and getting rid of anything they found unnecessary or overly formal. I've never paid much attention to the details but I know there's a holy war over the right time to eat on Sundays."

"There's a wrong time to eat?"

We continued down the trail, Jasper tucked under my arm and the sun shining down on us. "That's what I've gathered but I gotta be honest, I dipped out of those debates early on. All I know is my parents are on the side of regular evening mealtimes and my grandparents are on the side