“Yeah, but that’s just superficial stuff. Flowers are his business. He won’t dick you around.”
“Why can’t you do it?”
“Because I like to see you squirm.”
“Wendy…”
“Grow up, Damon. Neil is getting the venue, and I’m making the cake. You can suck it up and play nice with Maverick for your parents’ thirty-fifth wedding anniversary.”
I slumped. “Fine. Whatever.”
“Thank you. Now, I’m going to the little girl’s room. Don’t eat my food.”
I wrinkled my nose. “Not even if it was drowned in molasses.”
She shook her head. “You’re gonna kill yourself with that crap. You’re almost thirty. You need to stop eating like a trash panda.”
I shrugged and patted my flat stomach. “I burn it off.”
“You can’t burn off a clogged artery.”
She walked off before I could reply. It was just like Wendy to always need the last word. I worked my way through the rest of my pancakes. Clogging my arteries sure tasted great.
The voices at the table behind me—the Matchmaking Mamas table—got louder.
“…don’t understand why Jory would say that!” Lula exclaimed.
“It’s sure disappointing for our poor Maverick,” Iola said. “He deserved better than Jory.”
Damn right,I thought. But wait. What was all this about? I strained to make out what they were saying as their voices lowered a fraction.
“…needs a guy who will take it seriously.”
“I’m looking through our profiles.”
I frowned. Surely, Maverick wasn’t going to agree to another date if the first one had gone so badly?
“We need someone who loves Granville,” Iola said imperiously. “I vote for Gordon Mathis.”
I choked on a swallow of coffee. Maverick and Gordon? No way. Gordon was a total tomcat. He was the worst candidate forseriousthere was.
“I’m not sure they’re a good match,” Lula said. “Gordon is very…sure of himself. Maverick needs someone a little sweeter.”
“Well, what about Bryan Meadows?” Agatha suggested. “He’s awful sweet.”
Sweet, maybe, but that dude was about forty years too old for Maverick.
I damn near turned around to tell the ladies they were barking up the wrong tree, but they moved on.
“Fine, let’s set it up, but no more allowing these men to plan their own dates.” Iola snorted indelicately. “A nightclub in Riverton? No. The whole point of matchmaking is to get to know someone.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” Lula said. “Clearly, these boys need a little guidance when it comes to matters of the heart.”
“You should send them to The Stag Pub,” Marilyn said.
“I don’t know,” Lula mused. “It’s not very romantic.”
No kidding. It was what I’d written as Maverick’s dream date, but even I knew The Stag was not a good choice. For picking someone up? Sure. But for an actualdate? No. The Dinner Bell was the romantic hotspot. Of course, if you went there, you were basically announcing you were in a relationship.
