“Nice panties, Odie.”
I swallow the lump that’s settled into my throat, then reach for my mimosa, hoping nobody notices my shaky hand as I replay the words in my mind over and over.
His deep voice. That not-so-subtle cocky smirk of his. It was too much. I have no idea how long I stayed sitting in my car staring after the spot he vacated, but it was long enough that by the time I got home, Beans was pissed at me for serving her dinner late.
I couldn’t move, though.
“Nice panties, Odie.”
He said it so casually, as if that wasn’t a top-five most embarrassing moment of my life. And though I’m sure I was imagining it—just like I was when I thought he was about to kiss me—there was a sparkle in his eye. Aflirtykind of sparkle. The ones you see in the movies when the hero is looking at the heroine with all the charm in the world and it’s working.
God, did it work.
“You coming, Odette?”
I snap my head up, surprised to find everyone standing, gathering their purses.
Oh. I guess breakfast is over.
I missed the last half of it, my mind out at the cidery.
“Yeah, sorry. Just finishing this drink.”
I tilt my mimosa back, even though the glass is bone dry.
Jody Ann’s brows wrinkle, but she doesn’t say anything.
I shove to my feet and slip my bag over my head. I reach inside and toss a twenty down for a tip. We might sit here for hours anddrink far too many mimosas, but we always leave the server a little extra for having to deal with us. I’m convinced it’s why they let us keep coming back.
Nonna leads us out of the diner as usual, and we all line up for hugs.
I’m sure we look absurd, like we’re in some sort of funeral line, but it’s what we’ve always done.
When I get to her and she wraps her arms around me, smelling like fresh-baked sourdough—which she’s sort of famous for around these parts—I lean into her embrace, needing it far more than I realized I did.
“Don’t give up, little one,” she says so only I can hear. “I know you think we’re cursed, but we’re not. Maybe a little unlucky, but not cursed. Besides, if we are, we all know a curse can be broken with true love’s kiss. Maybe that’s all we’re waiting for.”
It’s not the first time she’s said something like that. She believes that all we need to do is find true love. That it’s the real reason we’re all still cursed. We haven’t found real love yet.
I love that even after all the heartache she’s endured, she’s still so positive. Still so certain that love is out there for us and each and every one of us will find it one day, even if we have to kiss a few frogs in the meantime.
I might still be young, but after watching my grandmother, my mom, and each of my aunts and cousins get their hearts broken over and over, I have no faith for me.
I could be wrong, but it’s going to take a hell of a lot to prove it so.
Seven came far too early this morning, and when my alarm clock went off, the last thing I wanted to do was peel myself out of bed.
But I did it anyway ... eventually. I crawled out of my blankets at seven thirty, threw on a pair of shorts, a ratty old Anaheim T-shirt I used to wear to Noah’s games, and boots I haven’t worn in years. Myfirst stop was coffee and breakfast, where I then ran into Peaches, who triedveryhard to convince me that Beans needs a brother.
I checked my purse three times before I left, just to make sure she hadn’t snuck a cat in there. She hadn’t, thank god, but the whole interaction made me late.
I speed into the parking lot of Stick Taps and throw my car into park, slinging open my door just as Noah comes barreling out of the taproom.
“Figures you’re late,” he calls over his shoulder, on his way to the barn as I struggle to keep up with him.
“I’m here, aren’t I?”
“I said be here at eight.” He stops, turning on his heel as he checks the watch on his wrist. “It’s eight thirty.”
