by Sarina Bowen
“No, you don’t,” he says, and the cocky expression that I know so well is back. “Not that I deserve it, but you don’t hate me.”
Fine. Fine. So I ate out with Rickie and I liked it. And I hate that I know how good a kisser he is. There will be no more kissing.
And this wasn’t a date. Even though Rickie doesn’t let me pay my half of the check. “My idea, my bill,” he says.
“Thank you,” I say a little stiffly. “We’re still not dating.”
“I heard you the first time,” he says with an easy smile.
Only it turns out that I’m the only one in Vermont who’s not on a date tonight. As we’re leaving the restaurant, Rickie holds the door open for…
My mother. My mother is walking into the noodle shop in a dress, with a man I’ve never seen before.
“Oh!” She stops short in front of me. “Daphne, honey. Hello.”
“Mom,” I say curtly. “Who’s your friend?”
“This is Gil,” she says, nodding a little too vigorously. “Gil, my daughter.”
The man smiles and shakes my hand nervously. He has a salt-and-pepper mustache that needs a trim. “What a wild coincidence, running into family tonight.”
“It’s not such a wild coincidence, apparently.” My voice is tight, and my mother gives me a disapproving glance. But she’s about to see for herself. “Maybe you’ll get our table by the window. Have a nice meal.”
Mom and I just blink at each other awkwardly for one more moment, and I realize that I’m really not emotionally prepared to see my mother on a date.
“See you at home,” she says. And then she walks into the noodle shop.
Seventeen
Rickie
Back in the truck, I punch the button to turn on Dylan's radio. Music fills the cab, and Daphne turns her face away from me to look out the window.
"Are you okay?" I ask. “Do you not like that guy? Gil?”
“I’m fine,” she bites out. “Gil is probably a terrific human being. It’s just new, okay? My dad died seven years ago, but my mother never said a word about dating before this summer. It's just a strange idea for me."
“Must be something in the water. Every member of your family is out there dating. Including Grandpa.”
She groans.
“You’re the only Shipley who insists she isn’t dating,” I say, driving the point home. “Mom is out there having a great time. And you say you’re giving up men?”
She turns her chin to give me a critical glare, and I give her a sleazy wink. She tries to hold on to her expression. But I see her lips twitch with humor. "Maybe I didn’t actually give up men. Maybe that's just an excuse I thought up to let you down easy."
“Nah,” I insist. “Impossible.”
"Oh, really?" I can see the eye roll even without looking. “That sure of yourself?”
“Daphne, seriously. Who could resist a guy with this face, this body, and a tendency to proposition hot young women and then leave 'em by the side of the road?"
“And still I’ve met worse,” she mumbles. “Where is all this traffic coming from?”
It’s true—Montpelier is jumping tonight. “The whole world is dating, see?”
She growls.
After five minutes of stop-and-go traffic, I finally get the truck back on the highway. Then we’re cruising south, as the radio plays on. “I hate to keep bringing up my gross inadequacies,” I say into the companionable silence. “But could I ask you a couple questions about our early car rides together?"
“Sure."
“When I originally invited you to that party, how did I describe it?"
“Jeez. It was a long time ago.”
“I know. Just do your best.”
She blows out a breath. “It was going to be hosted at a boathouse of some kind.”
Huh. “Like a yacht club?"
“Well…” She hesitates. “I got the impression that it was private property. But that could have just been my take on it. I don't have any friends with boats. I don't know the lingo."
"Okay. Did I happen to mention how far a drive it was from Harkness?”
"Nope. Sorry. I got the feeling you didn’t have too many details yet. But it was some kind of annual tradition. You'd heard stories. You wanted to see what the hype was all about."
“That sounds like me.” This is a dead end, though. How could Daphne know anything about a party that I failed to bring her to? And I don’t want to pester her all night. "Just one more question," I insist as I put on the signal to get off the highway.
“Wait, where are you going?" she asks.
I take the highway exit and brake slowly toward the street. “I want ice cream. Duh. I didn't think our nondate should end until we got some ice cream. Is that okay?”
“Sure.”
“Your enthusiasm overwhelms me.”
She smiles. And I’m such a sucker for that smile.
There are a surprising number of people here at the Dreamy Creemee, too, so I ease the truck into the lot, where a gaggle of children are poking each other in and around the line. I cut the engine at the far corner of the gravel parking area. Then I turn to Daphne again. "My final question is an easy one."
"Okay?" She unclips her seatbelt and then waits for me to ask it.
"Did I kiss you?"
“What? When?" Her eyes dip.
"In Connecticut. After our car ride.”
“No, you didn’t.” She shakes her head.
“Oh good.”
Her brown eyes leap to mine. “Why is that good?” Then she seems to realize what she’s just admitted—that she craves my kisses. “Never mind.” She reaches for the door.
“No, this is crucial.” I catch her hand before she leaves the truck. “You know how I recognized you, even though I didn’t know why?”
She nods, her face impassive. But I can see her pulse fluttering at her throat.
“I recognized you. But it wasn’t just like remembering a word I’d forgotten. When I saw your face, I knew I’d met you. And I also knew I’d liked you. I wasn’t ambivalent. I thought—there she is. And…” I thread our fingers together. “It might kill me if I’d forgotten even one of the kisses that I’d ever shared with you.”
“Rickie,” she breathes.
“Yeah?” I move a little closer.
She looks away. “I’m trying to give up men.”
“Yeah? How’s that working out?” I ask. Then I reach up and brush my thumb lightly across her cheek.
And when her eyes turn to me again, they’re blazing. So I lean in to kiss her, and not gently this time. I’ve been craving the press of her mouth against mine. Pulling her close to me, I feel all lit up inside.
Daphne shivers into our kiss, and her smooth hands land in my hair. Her mouth softens beneath mine. And then her body softens, too. All at once. Like an offering.
Holy fuck. I kiss her deeply, my tongue stroking her top lip until she opens for me. And I swear to Christ I hear an angel choir as we slide into each other’s arms. I don’t deserve a second chance with her. But this is it. She and I are happening. I just want to lose myself right here on the front seat of Dylan’s truck.
But I can’t. I make a desperate, unhappy groan as I wrench myself away from the hottest kiss of my life.
Daphne blinks up at me, cheeks flushed, pupils blown. I stunned us both. And it takes all my willpower not to dive right back in.
My phone is ringing. And more importantly, we’re sitting in a busy parking lot at the ice cream place. Whatever we’ve started will have to wait.
Daphne gets out of the truck and slams the door. Either she really wants ice cream, or she wants a moment to compose herself. My money is on the latter. Daphne isn’t comfortable losing her cool. She prefers to have her emotions well under control.
I get it. I’m not the same, but I do understand.
Needing a few deep breaths myself, I grab my phone and my wallet and slowly extract myself from the vehicle. She’s staring up at
the signboard with unseeing eyes.
My phone chirps again.
“Who’s calling you?” she asks.
I slip a hand into hers, and her fingers thread between mine, as if we’ve held hands a million times before. “I’m not sure. It’s…” I pull out the phone with my free hand. “Your brother.” I swipe to answer. “Hello?”
“Rickie! Come to the Goat!” he says. I can hear a crowd of people in the background.
“Where?” I ask.
“The Mountain Goat! It’s a bar. Is Daphne with you? She knows where it is.”
“We’re in line for ice cream. I thought you guys went to the movies?” The line moves forward, and I follow the gentle tug of Daphne’s hand.
“That was the plan,” Dylan says. “But then you didn’t bring the truck home in time, so I got Griffin to drop us here for dinner. I told him you’d pick us up later.”
Daphne snorts, so I know she’s hearing the whole conversation.
“You could have taken my car,” I point out.
“Nah, I need my truck at the movies,” he says. “It’s more comfortable, if you know what I mean. So get over here. We’ve got a table.”
“Okay, man. After we get ice cream, we’ll come to the Mountain Goat and pick you up.” So I guess my nondate is going to be cut short, even though I’m still buzzing from Daphne’s kiss.
“Come in when you get here,” Dylan says. “It’s two-for-one beers and we’ll play some darts.”
I glance at Daphne, who shrugs. She’s got her armor back on, even if she’s still holding my hand.
“Sure, man,” I say. “We’ll see you soon.”
Daphne removes her hand from mine, and the line advances again.
Eighteen
Daphne
The cold lemon sorbet was just what I needed to cool off the hormone surge caused by Rickie’s kisses. I lick the sharp, sweet cone all the way to the Mountain Goat, calling out the directions as they arise.
Rickie’s ice cream is slowly melting in a cup. And when the truck comes to rest in the gravel parking lot of the Goat, I hand it to him.
He spoons up a scoop of chocolate and smiles at me. “You feel like playing darts?”
“Do I have a choice?”
“I can rein in your brother. I’ll just tell him about the bottle of good whiskey I’ve got stashed, and he’ll be down for a quick exit.”
“Eh, let’s go in,” I say. Maybe if I’m surrounded by people I’ll stop thinking about his mouth. And those clever hands. And the heat that pours off his body whenever we touch each other. “Do you like to bet on darts?”
His smile is immediate. “Maybe. Are you a shark, baby girl?”
“You’ll find out, won’t you?” I say, fighting my own smile. I’m pretty good at darts. Grandpa taught me all kinds of games. My dad did, too. Everyone in my family is a life-of-the-party kind of person.
Everyone except me, of course.
I follow Rickie into the Goat. The sound of laughter and conversation rushes at us as we step into the crowded room. But Dylan and Chastity have got a booth, and an empty pitcher of beer.
“You two work fast,” Rickie says, lifting the empty pitcher and giving it a shake.
“Because you’re driving,” my brother says with a chuckle. “You steal my truck, you get to be my chauffeur.”
“I’ll drive home,” I pipe up from behind Rickie. We’ve already established that I can’t handle the potent combination of alcohol and Rickie.
“Yes!” my brother hoots. “Come on, Rick. Let’s get our drink on.”
“You’re welcome,” I grumble as Dylan pulls Rickie toward the bar.
Rickie has the decency to look back at me with apology in his eyes.
“What was that?” Chastity asks, watching them go.
“What was what?” I drag my gaze off Rickie’s ass in those faded jeans and onto Chastity, my brother’s live-in girlfriend.
She looks like a pixie with her blond hair and her apple-cheeked smile. “That look Rickie gave you. Are you two…?” She wiggles a finger between us.
“No,” I say without waiting to hear how that sentence ends. Because whatever she was going to ask, it’s not happening. I’ve got to stay away from that boy, with his dangerous mouth and those eyes that see way too much.
“Okay. That would have been weird, anyway.”
“It would? Why?” I squeak. Maybe I’ve given up men, but I’d rather not be written off as hopeless.
“Because Rickie doesn’t date,” she says. “He doesn’t fool around, either. He doesn’t even let anyone into his bedroom. For any reason.”
Oh. So this isn’t about me at all. “Are you sure? He carries himself like a total player.”
Chastity props her heart-shaped face in her hand and drops her voice to a conspiratorial register. “Well, we talked about it one night when we were sitting up late watching a movie together. It was a Hallmark movie, and the couple just had their big kiss under the mistletoe. And I asked him when he was going to liplock somebody, you know? He always refers to himself as a party boy and a man whore.”
I shrug, as if this topic isn’t fascinating. But it totally is. “And what did he say?”
“He just hasn’t wanted anyone since his accident. He isn’t as comfortable with having people in his bed, or as interested in having people in his pants. That’s a direct quote.” She smiles. “Trust Rickie to try to make a sad thing funny, you know?”
“Yeah,” I agree. Although I’m deeply confused. He seems both comfortable with and interested in me. That kiss in the truck? I’m surprised we didn’t set the front seat on fire.
A whistle pierces the loud social chatter around us, and I look toward the bar. It’s Rickie, his T-shirt straining against his biceps as he gives me a wave. What do you want to drink? he mouths.
“A Coke!” I shout.
He makes his fingers into a gun, shoots me and says, “You got it.”
“That was thoughtful,” Chastity says, her eyes dancing. “Are you sure you two aren’t gonna become a thing?”
“I’m super sure,” I say, as my brother arrives back at the table with a full pitcher of beer and a couple of extra glasses. He sits down next to Chastity, and they smile at each other. They’re in that early stage of love that’s hard to tolerate, with the tender glances and the hand-holding and staring into each other’s eyes 24/7.
Not that I have firsthand experience. But I’ve watched Griffin fall, and then May, and now Dylan. Like a stack of dominoes. If Grandpa and my mother are also out there dating, I really am the last Shipley standing.
Wait—no. I’m relieved to remember my cousin Kyle. He’s permanently single. And he’s older than I am by eight or nine years.
“Beer, Daphne?” my brother asks.
“No thank you. I’m your chauffeur, remember? Too bad you’re a shitty tipper.”
“Don’t bitch,” he says. “If we’re all drunk, you’ll clean up at darts.”
“I clean up at darts no matter what. Just admit it.”
And half an hour later, I do.
Nineteen
Rickie
A couple hours later, after I’ve lost twenty bucks at darts—to Daphne—she drives us home, as promised.
I’m in the back seat, pleasantly drunk, trying not to stare at the back of her kissable neck.
Beside me, Dylan reaches forward to put his hand at the juncture of Chastity’s shoulder and neck. He strokes her skin with his finger.
I spent the past few months giving him a lot of shit for how handsy they are all the time. But it’s sweet, and I’d happily eat my words if I could have what they have.
In Dylan’s shoes, I’d be the same way. I’d claim my girl, and let the whole world know that Daphne was mine. If she wouldn’t give me a death glare and accuse me of acting like a macho asshole, that is.
She would, though. And that would make me smile just the same.
I’ve got it bad.
When we get back to the farm,
Daphne notes the presence of her mother’s car. “I hope her date went well.”
“You don’t sound like you hope so,” her brother snickers.
“Shut up. I’m trying.”
Dylan laughs. And the minute he and Chastity are out of the truck, they go skipping toward the bunkhouse, probably to have loud sex all night. In fact, Dylan actually sweeps Chastity up and carries her toward the bunkhouse, while she shrieks in protest. They bounce off into the darkness together.
I catch Daphne watching them. So I brace my arms and bend my knees like I’m about to scoop her up, too.
“No,” she says, holding out her palm to stop me.
I straighten up, laughing. “Kidding. I wouldn’t dare.”
“Good.”
“Apparently I like my women prickly.”
“Apparently you do,” she says, opening the kitchen door and marching inside.
Daphne goes to greet her mother, and I slink upstairs alone. I take a turn in the shower, and by the time I’m done, she’s in her room with the door shut.
She would have left it open if she wanted my company. So I go into my room and lock the door. As one does.
I lay down in bed and listen as Daphne’s door opens. She takes her turn in the bathroom and then returns to her room.
No knock on my door, either. I hug my pillow and wonder what she’s doing. She's probably propped up in bed, reading something brainy.
If I were lying next to her, I’d pick up a book, too. I’d put a hand on her smooth knee, and stroke her skin with one hand while I turned pages with the other.
Daphne is smart, and very invested in her work. So it's possible she wouldn't toss the book aside and jump me. I'd have to work for it. I'd let my hand roam her long legs. Then I'd close my book and roll over to drop kisses on her smooth stomach...
And, yup. One of us is horny already.
Ah well.
As a distraction, I haul my laptop onto the bed and run a few internet searches. After all, I have some new material to work with. USTSA yacht club party.