shower and some
serious primping in my bedroom, I’d forgotten the
peeing incident, having washed off my sandals, and I
tried to forget what had happened at Little Tuscanyand Madame Geri’s ominous warning about the wedding.
This was “double date” night, which I was hoping
would help to banish the memory of Marco’s deathand all the talk about an island killer afoot.
Taking stock of myself in the mirror gave me the
good and bad news. The good: thick, curly red hair and
a slim figure; the bad: freckles everywhere (even in my
ears) and a flat chest. But with a little tinted moisturizer,
mascara, and pink lipstick, I did the most with my girlnext-door looks.
I peered closer at the massive splattering of freckles
on my face-nothing except cement would cover them.
Then again, maybe I should slather on some of that
bee cream. I’d tried everything else to fade the freckles-
A knock on my Airstream door interrupted my fantasy of a smooth, freckle-free face.
Kong looked up at me and didn’t bark-that meant he
knew the knock.
Cole.
I took my time, strolling through the Airstream, taking in deep breaths, and chanting my Tae Kwon Do mantra, muggatoni, to steady my nerves.
It didn’t work.
I’d finally reached the dating zenith after a long, long
drought. Double fun by having two guys, two restaurants,
and two dinners. Who could keep calm at that prospect?
Then, I swung open the door with a beaming grin
and beheld Cole … and Nick Billie.
My heart sank.
The smile faded.
There stood my blond, surfer-dude boyfriend in casual
shorts and a T-shirt holding a spray of wildflowers; and
my dark-haired potential boyfriend in dress pants and
jacket, clutching a large box of chocolates-staring at me
with eyes filled with confusion … and hurt. Oh no.
Could two men appear in greater contrast to each
other? Except now they both wore similar grim expressions.
“Hi.” What else could I say?
Heat rose to my face, and it had nothing to do with
the temperature. Busted.
“I guess I’m late,” Cole said, his voice flat.
“I guess I’m early,” Nick said, his voice strained.
“I … uh, guess I have some explaining to do,” I
stammered.
Both men waited in mute anticipation.
My mouth opened and closed a few times, but nothing came out.
Don’t fail me now, motormouth.
“Okay, I know this looks bad, but it really makes sense,
considering what happened today. Anita just assigned me
to be the new food critic for the Observer this morning,
and I have to go to two different restaurants tonight-and
then write blog reviews for both of them. But I didn’t
want to eat alone, and I didn’t want to have to … well,
burden one of you with going to two restaurants in one
night.” I turned to Nick. “And then when you pulled me
over for nearly running down that old guy on the threewheeler-“
“You almost ran over an elderly biker?” Cole cut in.
“He turned in front of me. It wasn’t my fault.” I swung
my glance in Cole’s direction, happy that at least my
motormouth had seemed to kick into gear during my
time of need. “But then Nick mentioned dinner, so I
suggested Pelican’s Grill, knowing I couldn’t cancel Le
Sink-“
“You mean you were going to have dinner at the nice
restaurant with him after taking me to that dumpy place
with all the sinks in the front yard?” The hurt in Cole’s
soft blue eyes deepened.
Okay, it was official. This wasn’t going well.
“Cole, it’s not like that. It’s just that you and I had
already planned on something casual, and I couldn’t
cancel on you just because Anita wanted another food
review tonight.” Mentally kicking myself, I plunged onward. “I know you don’t like to wear a suit-“
“That’s not the point. I thought we were a couple.” He
tossed the wildflowers to the ground. “I would’ve bought
a suit, if it meant that much to you”
Definitely not going well. Even beyond that, I felt like
a
serious primping in my bedroom, I’d forgotten the
peeing incident, having washed off my sandals, and I
tried to forget what had happened at Little Tuscanyand Madame Geri’s ominous warning about the wedding.
This was “double date” night, which I was hoping
would help to banish the memory of Marco’s deathand all the talk about an island killer afoot.
Taking stock of myself in the mirror gave me the
good and bad news. The good: thick, curly red hair and
a slim figure; the bad: freckles everywhere (even in my
ears) and a flat chest. But with a little tinted moisturizer,
mascara, and pink lipstick, I did the most with my girlnext-door looks.
I peered closer at the massive splattering of freckles
on my face-nothing except cement would cover them.
Then again, maybe I should slather on some of that
bee cream. I’d tried everything else to fade the freckles-
A knock on my Airstream door interrupted my fantasy of a smooth, freckle-free face.
Kong looked up at me and didn’t bark-that meant he
knew the knock.
Cole.
I took my time, strolling through the Airstream, taking in deep breaths, and chanting my Tae Kwon Do mantra, muggatoni, to steady my nerves.
It didn’t work.
I’d finally reached the dating zenith after a long, long
drought. Double fun by having two guys, two restaurants,
and two dinners. Who could keep calm at that prospect?
Then, I swung open the door with a beaming grin
and beheld Cole … and Nick Billie.
My heart sank.
The smile faded.
There stood my blond, surfer-dude boyfriend in casual
shorts and a T-shirt holding a spray of wildflowers; and
my dark-haired potential boyfriend in dress pants and
jacket, clutching a large box of chocolates-staring at me
with eyes filled with confusion … and hurt. Oh no.
Could two men appear in greater contrast to each
other? Except now they both wore similar grim expressions.
“Hi.” What else could I say?
Heat rose to my face, and it had nothing to do with
the temperature. Busted.
“I guess I’m late,” Cole said, his voice flat.
“I guess I’m early,” Nick said, his voice strained.
“I … uh, guess I have some explaining to do,” I
stammered.
Both men waited in mute anticipation.
My mouth opened and closed a few times, but nothing came out.
Don’t fail me now, motormouth.
“Okay, I know this looks bad, but it really makes sense,
considering what happened today. Anita just assigned me
to be the new food critic for the Observer this morning,
and I have to go to two different restaurants tonight-and
then write blog reviews for both of them. But I didn’t
want to eat alone, and I didn’t want to have to … well,
burden one of you with going to two restaurants in one
night.” I turned to Nick. “And then when you pulled me
over for nearly running down that old guy on the threewheeler-“
“You almost ran over an elderly biker?” Cole cut in.
“He turned in front of me. It wasn’t my fault.” I swung
my glance in Cole’s direction, happy that at least my
motormouth had seemed to kick into gear during my
time of need. “But then Nick mentioned dinner, so I
suggested Pelican’s Grill, knowing I couldn’t cancel Le
Sink-“
“You mean you were going to have dinner at the nice
restaurant with him after taking me to that dumpy place
with all the sinks in the front yard?” The hurt in Cole’s
soft blue eyes deepened.
Okay, it was official. This wasn’t going well.
“Cole, it’s not like that. It’s just that you and I had
already planned on something casual, and I couldn’t
cancel on you just because Anita wanted another food
review tonight.” Mentally kicking myself, I plunged onward. “I know you don’t like to wear a suit-“
“That’s not the point. I thought we were a couple.” He
tossed the wildflowers to the ground. “I would’ve bought
a suit, if it meant that much to you”
Definitely not going well. Even beyond that, I felt like
a
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