“I’ll see you later,girlfriend.”
“Good luck at your game,boyfriend.” I had barely taken a step in the opposite direction when she added, “Oh, and happy birthday.”
Little did she realize that she had just given me the best birthday gift I could have asked for.
A second chance.
Because now that I had tasted temptation, I wanted more. I wanted the whole damn meal. And if I played my cards right—no,whenI played my cards right—Ness might just let me come back for seconds.
Or thirds.
Or forever.
But I was getting ahead of myself. Today, I had a game to win. I’d start on Nessa’s heart first thing tomorrow.
Nessa
“Explain it to me again.”
June’s words had my jaw tightening for the umpteenth time. With the amount of jaw clenching I’d done the last few days, I was no doubt working myself toward a TMJ diagnosis.
“Walk while you talk,” I told her, doubling my pace.
We were on our way to the empty space next door to Smutty Buddies. The former storefront, which had been empty ever since the pottery studio had closed last year, had been designated as the festival command center for the next month. Thanks to a lengthy line at the bakery, we were already running a few minutes behind for this morning’s committee orientation. Free coffee and pastries were the least I could offer to our team of volunteers.
Which included Kaylani and Ryan.
“You ran into Kaylani in the street, who revealed that she was not only engaged, but also that she was marrying the fucker who made your life miserable in high school?”
“That’s correct.”
“And in a moment of shear, I don’t know, panic or desperation—”
Or all the above?
“—you found yourself kissing the dude that annoys the ever-loving shit out of you, and now the two of you are dating.”
It sounded a lot more ridiculous coming out of her mouth than it had in the moment.
“Fake dating.”
“Ness, this isn’t one of your books.”
“You don’t think I know that?”
I heaved a sigh, resituating myself and the two boxes of hot coffee in my hands. Jo might not have been able to make today’s orientation, but he had more than made up for it by loading us up with enough coffee and treats to feed a small army. That was what it took to pull off a successful Buns and Roses Festival—as many willful recruits as possible.
“Can you blame me?” I demanded. “I go fifteen years without laying eyes on Ryan Mitchell, and then all of a sudden, he’s standing across from me, fiancée on one arm, pumpkin in the other.”
Her brows wrinkled. “Why the fuck did he have a pumpkin?”
“That’s not important.”
“I mean, it kind of is,” June argued. “It’s way too early for pumpkins.”
“Forget the fucking pumpkin!”
She halted her steps, staring at me like I’d grown a second head. She wasn’t the only one. It was a busy Saturday morning in downtown Rose City. The streets were packed full of weekend shoppers and Roasters fans gearing up for this afternoon’sgame, several of whom were now staring at the crazy lady cursing gourds outside the old movie theater.
