by Sara Rider
“Really? I kind of thought it was terrible.” Nora flicked to one of the particularly egregious pages she’d bookmarked earlier in the week “The author described his house as a ‘windowless box of melancholy and copper plumbing’.”
Rose shook her head and drained her glass. “You just don’t understand good literature.”
“I guess I don’t either,” Annie said, sending a small smile Nora’s way. “I agree with Nora. Any guy who calls a vagina ‘her pink pit of despair’ would not be getting in my bed.”
“Maybe that’s the problem. Nora just needs to finally get laid so she can loosen up and appreciate the book.” Gemma punctuated the insult with a high-pitched laugh, then rolled her eyes. “I’m kidding.”
Nora sat back in her seat, cheeks flushed with embarrassment. It wasn’t the comment that stunned her—it was her own reaction that pissed her off the most. Why was she even trying with these women? These weren’t the kinds of people she wanted to be friends with. She’d be better off spending the rest of her lonely Friday nights babysitting feral cats or cleaning her toilet with her own toothbrush than trying to fit in with them. If she couldn’t find friends who accepted her for who she was—friends like the ones she had back in Toronto—what was the point?
God, she missed her old life. She stood up and set her book on the glass-topped coffee table. “I’m going to check on the dessert.”
Eli Hardin had honestly tried to finish putting in the new flooring before his neighbor’s book club started, but rushing inevitably meant he’d measured one of the cuts wrong. Usually he didn’t care whether he disturbed the monthly event, since the women spent most of the evening catcalling him anyway, but something about the way his neighbor pleaded with those big brown eyes made him wonder if their reciprocal teasing was more one-sided than he realized.
Pretty brown eyes, too.
Pretty enough to distract him from the backbreaking work of installing the new floors. He’d spent the last three days and more money than he’d like to admit replacing the old parquet and linoleum with new expensive hardwood that would make him feel like actual accomplished human being, only now he was ninety-nine percent of the way done with one big glaring mistake. Kind of like his life.
He took the last plank from the box and brought it to the backyard where he’d set up his saw. Not having a garage in this old place was a pain in the ass, and if the permit got approved, he’d put one up soon so that he didn’t have to keep doing all of this outside. But for now, fixing up the inside of the house was his priority.
Actually, it was more of a distraction, if he was being honest. He didn’t give a shit about home improvement, but after his buddy Jake moved out to live with his girlfriend a few months ago, Eli had too much time on his hands to think about things he’d rather forget. Too much time to feel like a failure. Ripping up every spare inch of his old bungalow was probably stupid considering he didn’t have a lick of renovation experience, but it kept his hands and his head busy.
He marked off twenty-six and three-quarter inches as precisely as he could and lifted the blade of the circular saw.
“Oh my God, I soooo wasn’t kidding,” one of the women next door said loudly. “Nora really does need to get laid.”
His shoulders tensed. This wasn’t the first time he’d overheard the women loudly shit-talking his neighbor behind her back. He had no idea why she hung out with them.
“Maybe you should set her up with someone,” another woman added.
The other two laughed. “Can you imagine Nora on a date? She’s so uptight and frigid. Who would want to date her? No lay is worth that kind of torture. Can’t you just picture her busting out her bottle of sanitizer before the poor sap tries to hold her hand?”
His jaw tensed and he felt the last of his patience snap like an icicle in his warm hands. He sliced the saw through the wood, threw his protective glasses onto the ground, and marched over to the waist-high chain link fence. “I’d do it.”
All three women turned to look at him like he was a space alien who’d just beamed down to earth. The one who’d been talking the most leaned forward in her seat. “What did you just say?”
“You heard me. I’d go out with her.”
“You can’t be serious.”
The more this woman pushed, the more he wanted to put her in her place. No, Nora was not the kind of woman he would normally ask out—mainly because she was one of the few who didn’t seem to fall for his charm. In fact, he was pretty sure she didn’t think he had any charm whatsoever, but she was attractive and smart enough to read a book every month. That alone made her more dateable than half the population in this town. “Sure as hell am.”
“If you’re looking for a date, I could show you a much better time.”
He shrugged, keeping his fake smile on his face. “No thanks. Backstabbing and mean isn’t my type.”
He probably enjoyed the shocked look on the woman’s face a little too much, but it was seriously fucking rude to trash-talk the hostess while sitting on her porch and eating her canapés.
The screen door slid open right at that moment. Nora walked out with a plate of decadent-looking mini-chocolate cakes that made his mouth water on sight. Her eyes darted from her friends to him and back again. “Um, what’s going on?”
He rested his hands against the old chain-link fence. “What’s going on is that your so-called friends are talking trash about your love life behind your back and don’t seem to think you can get a date. So I volunteered.”
“You what?”
“Volunteered. You and me. Tomorrow night at seven. I’ll drive.”
She slammed the cake tray onto the coffee table and set her hands on her hips. She looked around, like she couldn’t decide where to focus her anger. Of course she settled on him. “Who says I’d want to go out with you?”
He raised his eyebrow, liking the way she got flustered around him a little too much. “Got better plans?”
Even at the distance between them, he could see her suck in a breath. Her mouth hardened into a flat line, but she didn’t say no.
“Tomorrow. Seven. Dinner. Oh, and consider making new friends who aren’t so damn mean. These ladies don’t deserve any of those amazing-looking cakes.” He grabbed his plank of wood and headed into the house, wondering what the hell he’d just gotten himself into.
Acknowledgments
I’m so thankful for everyone who has supported me with this book. Rachel Goodman, you have been my rock throughout this journey. I am forever grateful for your friendship and insight. Melanie Ting, your generosity and kindness has been invaluable. You are truly one of the loveliest people in the world. To my parents, thank you for all the hours you’ve spent babysitting so that I could sneak in extra writing time. And to my husband, thank you for giving me the inspiration and courage to write stories about love.
Also by Sara Rider
The Perfect Play Series
FOR THE WIN
KEEPING SCORE
GOING FOR THE GOAL
About the Author
Sara Rider writes contemporary romance full of heart, heat, and happily ever after. She lives in British Columbia with her husband and daughters. She spends far too much time in public libraries and never leaves the home without her e-reader stuffed in her purse.
You can find her at SaraRider.com or by signing up for her newsletter.