She shoots me a look as she rearranges the flutes. Her auburn curls are pinned back, but a few loose waves fall around her face, catching the soft kitchen lights. “Scarlett, you know I love you—”
“Buuuut,” I interject, dragging out the word for effect.
She rests both hands on her hips. “Don’t do that. You know I hate that. And you can’t deny you have a tendency to see corpses everywhere.”
“I do not!”
“Oh, really?” She arches a perfectly shaped eyebrow. “How about Professor Lowell?”
I groan. She always brings up Professor Lowell.
“You thought he was running a prostitution ring, Scarlett.”
“Only because we saw him driving around town with all those girls!”
“Yeah, well.” She snickers. “That sort of criminal and volunteers at the Center for Abuse have that in common. And remember your weird colleague?”
“Damien?” I roll my eyes. “Okay, point taken. Turns out he’s not a terrorist, but in my defense, hedoeshave a suspicious amount of wires and circuit boards lying around.”
“Look, I know you mean nothing bad by it,” Paige insists, nudging me to step aside as she walks around me. “It’s just… murder is all you think about. All the time.”
I pout, finally conceding. “Well, not anymore. Now I’ll have to think about romance, too.”
She removes her apron and smooths her dress. “It’ll be great for you. You’ll see—romance will change your life.”
“I just hope it doesn’t get me fired.”
“You’ll befine.”
I slump against the counter, feeling the weight of the deal I made. “I will most certainlynotbe fine. Didn’t you hear what I said? I have to read…romance.”
Her laughter is light and infectious as she pulls me upright. “Oh, come on. This is bordering on offensive.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, thinking of the stack of clinch covers always sitting on her bedside table. “It’s not just about the books. You know I’m bad at love.”
“Aw, Scarlett.” She touches my arm reassuringly. “You can’t be bad at something you’ve never done. I’m not a bad mechanical engineer—I’ve just never…engineered.”
I slump again, my elbows pressing into the cool countertop. “I’m a twenty-three-year-old woman who’s never been in a long-term relationship. What would you call that?”
“Honestly? I call it exciting. You have everything ahead of you.” She shrugs. “The first big crush, the first dates, the first ‘I love you.’?”
I feel my eyes crinkle at the corners. Typical Paige, isn’t it? Falling in love at the drop of a hat, getting her heart broken, and doing it all over again without losing hope. There’s nothing she loves more than falling in love.
She laughs softly, probably noticing my look. “I know, I know, I’m basically romance’s biggest fan and biggest cautionary tale.”
She heads to the door to peek into the event room, then turns back. “Honestly, this Single Mingle thing couldn’t have come at a better time. How can you judge romance books if you’ve never experienced romance yourself?” Before I can interject, she claps her hands. “I can feel it. Your love life is about to change.”
I cross my arms. “Yes, I feel it, too. It’s switching from nonexistent to miserable.”
“Scarlett…”
“And besides, romance books aren’t exactly like real life,” I protest.
She glances over her shoulder to her girlfriend, Vanessa, who she’s been going strong with for almost a year. “Actually, when you meet the right person, love feels exactly like a romance book.”
I hum. “That’s… sweet. And a little gross.”
She throws a balled-up piece of paper at me.
