I don’t know what Marlow says in response, but Stevie’s face falls. She blinks over and over, and the wetness in her eyes makes me want to grab the phone and letMarlowhave it.
Stevie sniffs, straightening in her seat. “I gotta go. I’ll be there tomorrow night. I’ll be nice. And when I win this bet, it won’t be on a technicality,” she says with forced lightness. She pauses. “Okay. Bye.” The words are clipped. She pulls her phone away from her ear, jams her finger on the button to end the call, and tosses it onto the cushion.
“Everything okay?” I ask quietly.
“My friends think I’m too picky”—she scratches her temple, not quite making eye contact—“when it comes to men.”
That may be part of it, but I can tell she’s holding something back. Either way. “You should be picky.”
“Thank you!” She holds out her palms, eyes wide. “They don’t get it.”
“No?” I hope my blasé act is working, because I’m anything but.
“She said I expect perfection, but ...” She shakes her head. “We don’t have to talk about this.” She smiles, but now that I know her better, I see through it.
“When’s the date?”
“Seven o’clock tomorrow night, at the diner.” She rolls her eyes, then adds with a mutter, “So they can babysit me.”
“I’ll be there.”
Sucking in a breath, she warns, “No, you will not. Adam Sandoval, you are not crashing my date.” Pink washes over her cheeks.
Oh, I like that. My name combined with that blush? I need that to happen again. But right now, I need to think on my feet. “I’m not crashing. Remember, I bet on Bigfoot. I have a stake in this.”
How did I get here?
“Then by all means.” She laughs. “Crash away.”
Chapter 18
Stevie
On my way to my next blind date I’m a jumbled mess of conflicting emotions.
First of all, Adam has been in my head all day.
Second, it was stormy and rained nonstop today, which meant I couldn’t get into the woods. I’m antsy after being inside. I was able to work on some stuff for mySquatch Watchersaccount and order more T-shirts, but I’m restless. My legs need to move. I’ve got the Jimmy legs, as Cosmo Kramer would say.
I need to get outside. I need sunshine. I need to find evidence of a sasquatch before my friends can arrange any more of these cockamamie dates.
Third,Adam. The way that man talks about his sister? It's lethal. As is the way helistens. I want to melt remembering how he looked at me while I talked.
I sigh, sliding my feet into the cutest sandals I own. I painted my toenails bubblegum pink for this charade. I curled my hair. I put on a cute denim skirt that I hardly ever wear and borrowed a pretty flowing blouse from Diana. I’m proving to my friends that I am trying, despite what Marlow said last night. Of course, she teased me about being too picky, which she always does. Thatwasn’t new. But she said something she’s never said before, and the words are like slivers in my fingertips.
It’s time to get on with your life. Your brothers have moved on, so should you.
That burned.
I’ve known Marlow too long for her to say something like that. Because either she’s right, and I need to get on with my life—an insulting idea, given I have my dream job, dream lifestyle, and I’m surrounded by friends. Or she’s wrong, and she’s just being mean for the sake of being mean. She did seem kind of edgy and tired over the phone. Whatever it is, we’ll work it out. That’s another benefit of being longtime friends.
I slam my front door behind me, stomp to my car, and make my way to the diner.
A half an hour later, I’m sitting across a booth from a handsome man and wondering why Adam hasn’t shown up. He promised to crash my date, but so far there has been nary a Shirtless Adam sighting. Maybe he got busy? Maybe he decided it wasn’t worth his time?
I curled my hair for this. He’d better show his face.
Meanwhile, Derek, the man Marlow met at the bank and supposedly vetted, slides out of the booth. He’s a good-looking guy, I can’t deny that.
