She tips her head to the side while staring at me. “Any man would be lucky to have you.”
While I wholeheartedly agree with her, there’s still a tiny niggling doubt left over from my more fragile days. “What if every man I meet thinks I’m too strange to date?”
“Then they aren’t the right men for you. Seriously, girl. You’re just a little different. And different is good.” She assures me, “You’re too good of a person not to have your dreams come true.”
Walking out from behind the counter, I sit down next to her. “Good people don’t always get the ending they deserve.” I’m not being down on myself as much as I’m just speaking the truth.
She pats my arm. “You will, Finley. I believe that from the bottom of my heart.”
“I’m strange,” I remind her. “You said so yourself.”
Plain-speaking can sometimes be misinterpreted as self-deprecation. That’s why I’m not surprised when Allie seems to feel the need to comfort me. “I said you were quirky, not strange.”
“Same thing, though, right?”
“No,” she says sharply. “Quirky is endearing and cute. Strange is eating your boogers on the city bus.”
“Ew.”
“You see?” She smiles smugly. “Big difference.”
I decide to tell Allie the news that’s occupying most of my waking moments. “Thomas Culpepper has booked four more sessions with me.”
She looks adequately surprised by this information. “The doctor/pirate?”
“One and the same,” I tell her.
“Why does he need four more sessions?”
I explain to her how he plans on pulling the prank of all pranks on his parents. To which she says, “Interesting …”
“You sound like you don’t believe that’s the reason.”
Allie kicks her legs out in front of her and leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “That might be part of it, but what if he’s also doing it to spend more time with you?”
“Why would he want to do that?” Prickles of embarrassment stab at the base of my neck. I cannot believe he came to me for a head shot and I made him take his shirt off.
My friend waggles her eyebrows suggestively. “Maybe he likes you.”
“Maybe he feels sorry for me,” I more accurately predict.
“Why would he feel sorry for you?”
“Because I mucked up his first shoot so badly.” I explain, “He probably thinks I’m a couple of cookies short of a dozen and he’s trying to make me feel better.”
“Even if that’s true,” Allie says, “He’s willing to spend a lot of money to do so, which means …” She flashes jazz hands in front of her. “He likes you!”
I let that sink in for a minute. Could she be right? Could Thomas Culpepper really be interested in me? A chill of awareness radiates from my head throughout my body.
Could I be that lucky?
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
THOMAS
This afternoon is my first session with Finley, and while I’m excited to see her again, I’m a little less than thrilled to be dressing up. Having said that, revenge against my parents is going to be so sweet, the pain of pretending will be more than worth it.
So far this morning, I’ve seen one little girl who fell off her bike and broke her wrist, one woman with a second-degree oil burn—darn those homemade hash browns—and a man with kidney stones. By Elk Lake standards, that means it’s been a busy start to the day.
