“We have to go up to the counter to order,” she said, before he sat down.
“Okay,” he replied. She wasn’t sure if he looked annoyed by that or if she was just looking for reasons to dislike the man now.
They placed their orders, and she had to bite her lower lip to keep from laughing at the way Jerry acted as if he didn’t know her, all the while giving Scott the hairy eyeball. Once they had their drinks, they returned to the table.
She’d just taken a small sip when Scott reached into the pocket of his blazer and pulled out a flask. “I think we should Irish this coffee up a bit.”
Belle shook her head. “No thanks,” she said, when he put a healthy dollop of Irish crème in his coffee, then started to reach for her cup. As if she’d let a stranger pour anything in her drink—even if hedidput the same thing in his own. “I’m not much of a drinker.”
This time, she didn’t imagine the flash of a sour expression on his face. If Scott was counting red flags, too, it was obvious she’d just gotten one.
“So, you sell insurance,” she said, by way of getting the conversation started, even though she was already wishing this date was over. She mentally chastised herself for being such a judgy Judy. She wasn’t really giving him much of a chance.
She was measuring Scott by the Victor yardstick, which meant she didn’t find Scott’s clean-cut jaw and two-hundred-dollar haircut attractive. And apparently, she preferred men who were considerably taller and built like a brick shithouse. Scott was only an inch or two taller than her, and his blazer was an unflattering one size too small. If he thought that made him lookbuff, he was mistaken; all it did was draw her attention to his beer gut—the one that was not present in the pics on his profile. She suspected he’d done a bit of Photoshopping. Given his flask and previous desire to meet in a bar, she had some serious concerns. Who needed a drink in the middle of a workday?
Scott told her about his work in the “family business,” and how he’d never imagined himself working with his dad. While he was the same age as her—twenty-eight—he’d only started selling insurance a couple of years ago…after his band failed to make it in Nashville.
“What instrument do you play?” she asked.
“I was the drummer.” He decided to prove that by pulling two honest-to-God drumsticks from the inside pocket of his blazer and loudly beating them on the table, drawing the attention of every patron in the shop. “Never go anywhere without my sticks.”
Wow.
Scott then moaned about the rest of his bandmates, blaming them for giving up way too quickly, certain they could have hit the big time. Belle wasn’t sure ten years was exactly quick, but as he continued talking, it became obvious Scott’s dad had been footing the bill for him to follow his dreams, while the other guys in the band had held down side jobs and struggled to make ends meet.
Belle took another sip of her coffee, waiting for Scott to make some attempt to get to know her, but as the silence lingered, she took another stab at keeping things rolling along.
“Do you travel much?” she asked.
Scott launched into a long list of destination bachelor parties he’d gone to in the past few years, including to Las Vegas, Miami, Cancun, and New Orleans. Every trip seemed to involve a lot of alcohol and picking up women, and Belle realized Scott was one of those men who would forever be a frat guy.
She gathered he got away with a lot at work since his father was the boss, because she couldn’t imagine anyone else being okay with an employee missing so much time…or drinking in the middle of the day. Of course, that didn’t stop Scott from bragging that he had a “flexible schedule” that allowed him to travel whenever he wanted.
Belle considered Victor’s work ethic. According to Vivian, the only time her brother had ever missed time with the team was following Pip’s birth and Phil’s passing. She’d even seen the man play through some painful injuries because he refused to let the team down.
Scott’s commitments seemed limited to drinking, drumming, and talking about his so-called “glory days.”
Belle nodded as he continued to drone on about how he played football in college, though he certainly hadn’t been recruited by a big school. Nearly two hours had passed, and the asshole had yet to ask her a single question, perfectly content to talk about himself.
Five times, she’d tried to break into the conversation by saying, “Well,” with the intention of offering some excuse about why she couldn’t stay any longer, but Scott was on a roll. Probably because he was on his third Irish coffee.
Jerry obviously hadn’t liked the look of Scott, because he remained behind the counter, shooting death glares at her date—not that the man even noticed.
She was trying to figure out what signal she could send in Jerry’s direction that would let her former boss know she needed a save, when the small bell above the door to the shop tinkled.
“Belle!”
She managed to twist in the booth just in time to catch Pip, who launched herself into her arms for a hug. Pip was the most affectionate child on the planet, always offering hugs or begging for cuddles on the couch. They’d yet to watch TV at Victor’shouse without Pip climbing into her uncle’s lap and resting her head on his shoulder. Belle had taken several pictures of them, under the guise of sending them to Vivian. In truth, she wanted those photos for herself.
Belle shot a glance over Pip’s head, finding Victor standing behind her, his expression a mix of smug and scowl.
“What are you two doing here?” she asked him.
Pip answered. “Uncle Vic took me to Target for another puzzle because that other one was too easy for us. Then he said we could get hot cocoa for my secret treat, and I told him…” Pip’s explanation fell away as she glanced around the shop. Without hesitation, she climbed off Belle and darted over to the counter. “Mr. Jerry!” she yelled.
Belle and Pip were regulars at Jerry’s shop because he insisted. The man was totally crazy about Pip, and the feeling was mutual. He always made her special chocolate milk—the whipped cream on top was what made it special—and managed to sneak her a cookie from the counter whenever Belle wasn’t looking.
Victor, as far as Belle knew, had never been here, so his frown grew quite pronounced when Jerry picked up Pip, playfully tossing her in the air a few times.
