He tipped his chin and grinned. “I guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. A very dangerous and determined tree.”
Chapter Eight
The next morningI channeled my inner Rosie the Riveter in my high waisted jeans, polka dot button-up, and hair in a bandana.
I flipped through the tin film canisters at The Bees Knees, wondering if Grant would stop in today.West Side Story,Casablanca,The Wizard of Oz, andPlanet of the Apes. Zero Cary Grant. My lips frowned. It was a long shot. Finding film reels from the 1940s and 1950s was hard, especially if you wanted them in playable condition.
I closed the drawer of film reels and stood. Maybe I could call some auction houses and see if they had anything coming up. Just in case.
Luckily, Mom forgave me after last night. I think winning dance lessons and a four-day cruise to Mexico next summer significantly helped the cause.
Humming along with the Johnny Cash record crooning through the store, I danced my way to the front and the Rolodex of business cards I kept under the cash register. I loved talking to Grant last night. He was this weird juxtaposition of soft and jagged edges.
The door chimed mid spin, and I froze.
Please don’t be Grant.
I slowly finished the turn toward the door and was met with Jane’s smile and raised brows. “Well, aren’t you chipper today?” She lifted the two white coffee cups to indicate she brought breakfast. She followed me to the counter. “So, what happened?”
“What do you mean?” I flicked through the business cards, avoiding eye contact. If Jane found out I was acting this way due to a man, she would go nuts.
She tipped her chin and scrunched her brows. “The Kismet thing? Did you cancel and tell your mom like I told you to?” She set my cup on the counter and pushed it toward me.
I grabbed a few cards to make calls with later and set them by the cash register. “I didn’t cancel. I know I should’ve, but I didn’t.” I picked up my cup and blew on the top. “I told Mom in the parking lot before going in, though, and that the tickets and information were correct.” I shrugged. “Not great, but something…” I took a sip of my latte with soft top and caramel. It was still too hot.
“Well, at least that’s something?” She nodded toward my drink. “Your coffee was practically white.”
“Just how I like it.” I blew into the steam.
She shook her head. “So what did your mom say?”
“Oh, she was livid.” I grimaced. “And rightfully so.”
Jane pointed at me with her coffee cup. “The way you run headstrong into everyone’s dating life instead of focusing on your own has to be a sign of daddy issues or something.” She took a sip.
“Daddy issues, not believing I’m lovable, abandonment. Pick a diagnosis and stick with it.” I playfully stuck out my tongue.
“Maybe you have the trifecta.” She grinned, taking a sip.
“Lucky me.” I shrugged. “She said to focus on my own love life, and the next time I get asked on a date, I have to say yes and give it an ‘honest try.’” I emphasized the last two words.
Jane raised a brow. “So, all I have to do is get someone to ask and you have to say yes?”
I grimaced. “I mean, technically, yes.” I set the cup on the counter so I wasn’t tempted to take another sip and burn my mouth.
Jane leaned against the front of the counter. “Hm, interesting. Did your mom go inside?”
“Yep. She said it was to waste the money I spent on tickets, and I had to come too.” I chuckled.
“Wait. You went in too? So that means…” She set down her drink and slapped the counter. “Was that why you were spinning?” She drum-rolled her hands on the counter. “Mr. Muscles! You saw him again, didn’t you? Oh. My. Gosh! Did he catch you? Did he throw you out? Was he as hot as you remember?” Jane rushed through the questions before running out of breath.
I grabbed my drink. I decided a burnt mouth was better than answering her questions. Hot, still too hot.
She squealed. “Oh my gosh! I’m right! You saw him!”
I raised my brow and blew on the cup.
“Drink later, talk now!” She reached across the counter and grabbed the drink from my hand, holding it hostage.
