Mrs. Schlesselman smirked. “Quit hogging the fries. We’re sharing those.”
Tess pushed the plate across the table. “What about you? You ready to jump back on the horse?”
“I’m ninety years old!”
“Last night you said ninety yearsyoung,” Tess said. “You still got your looks and your sweet personality. I bet you have men lined up out the door.”
“You’re trying to change the topic.” She pointed a fry at Tess. “I’ve lived a long time, and I can tell you, love is never easy.”
“Whoa,” Tess said. “Who said anything about love? I barely know the guy.”
“Lie to yourself, but you can’t lie to me.”
Tess ignored that. “Faith also said he had an excuse for not telling me about buying the business. She claimed it was a ‘good’ excuse, but Faith is sometimes flighty and overly optimistic.”
“Those are the best kinds of friends to have. Gimmie.” She held out her hand, and Tess passed her the drink.
She probably should have given Logan a chance to explain. Even if his reason sucked, at least she’d have all the facts. As it was, she could only speculate on his motives.
Was the whole relationship a ruse to get information? Did he ever really like her? Or could it be a combination of both? He came for the business but stayed for her?
“Can I get another drink, Mitch?” Tess called to the waiter, realizing her last one had been commandeered.
“You say you don’t love him,” Mrs. Schlesselman said. “Whatdoyou feel for him?”
Leave it to an elderly stranger to make her confront feelings she’d successfully procrastinated analyzing until now.
Tess wasn’t sure she’d ever had such strong feelings for a man before Logan. He was handsome, generous, thoughtful, and funny. Except for the lying, he seemed perfect. There was also some kind of weird bond between them. A connection that made her feel as though he was someone she’d been waiting for all her life. She rubbed her forehead. Now she sounded like Faith.
Mitch stopped by with another piña colada, and Tess took a lengthy gulp.
“I mean, if he’s even real,” Mrs. Schlesselman said. “I understand most Canadian boyfriends are fake.”
“I’m from New Hampshire, not Canada.”
“Same thing.”
“I need a nap.” Tess got up and went back to her lounge chair. She was dozing, halfway to dreamland, when blaring music started up behind her.
Irritation flooded her as Brenda Lee’s “I’m Sorry” blasted impolitely, blatantly breaching poolside etiquette.
When she turned, ready to let the offender have it, she froze. Logan. He wore a long tan overcoat and stood, feet apart, hands in the air, holding a boom box high above his head, obviously reenacting the iconic scene from the movieSay Anything.
Tess closed her eyes and bowed her head to hide her smile. It was a nice gesture, but he wasn’t getting off the hook that easy.
Logan turned down the music and headed toward her.
“So, heisreal,” Mrs. Schlesselman said from her perch under the umbrella. “And hot! You weren’t fibbing about that.” She let out a loud catcall.
Logan looked back and forth between the two women, brows furrowed in confusion.
Tess held up a hand. “Notnow, Mrs. Schlesselman.”
“All right, all right. I’ll just listen quietly from over here.”
Logan raised an eyebrow, and Tess shook her head. “Long story.”
“May I?” He nodded to the chaise next to hers.
