by Hart, Emma
“I’m sure Kinsley will be thrilled to know you’re planning out her life,” I drawled. “You only want me to marry her so you have a granddaughter-in-law who owns a bookstore.”
“Darn right I do.” Grandma chuckled. “Free books!”
“That’s what a library is for.”
“Yes, but I can’t keep those,” she pointed out. “Well? Are you going to tell her?”
All right. I was done here.
“You’re welcome for the book, Grandma, but I have to get going. It’s nearly time for your dinner.”
“Are you going to tell her now?”
“No, she has a date.” I stood and kissed her powdered cheek. “Goodbye, Grandma. Call me if you need anything.”
“Wimp,” she muttered as I opened the door to her room.
“Love you, too.” I tossed a grin over my shoulder and left her to her fantasies.
The biggest issue with her plan to marry me off to Kinsley was this: there was no guarantee that, even if I did tell her I had feelings for her, she would reciprocate them.
And Colton was an issue, too.
The biggest issue. God only knew I’d be pissed if I knew he’d slept with my sister.
Not that Piper would sleep with him.
He’d accidentally killed her hamster when she was eight, and she’d barely spoken a word to him since.
I waved goodbye to the nurses at the front desk and stepped out into the sunlight. I could hear the ducks quacking and splashing in their pool on the other side of the building.
Shit, they were noisy little fuckers.
I rubbed my hand down my face and pulled my keys out of my pocket so I could unlock my truck. I got into the cab and grabbed my phone from where I’d left it in the center console.
Kinsley’s date was in half an hour. She was meeting Jamie at Bella Italia at six-thirty, and she’d already texted me twenty times this afternoon panicking.
Mostly about what to wear.
Like I fucking knew.
I was about to lock my phone and put it back in the center console when it buzzed with a new message from her. I pinched my nose when I saw the preview said ‘view attachment,’ because I knew that meant she’d sent me a picture.
Of her clothes, no doubt.
I clicked the message and, after a few seconds for the attachments to download, I knew I was right.
Three pictures of outfits.
In the first one she was wearing a similar outfit to what she’d worn last night—jeans, heels, and a simple blazer and shirt combo, although this blazer was black. The next one was a plain red dress paired with the same jacket and heels, but it was the final one that made me groan.
A skin-tight, white dress that hugged every inch of her damn body, from the high neck to the knee-length skirt. She’d paired that one with a set of bright red heels.
If I were ten years younger, I’d have a boner on the spot.
I wasn’t sure I didn’t, to be honest.
ME: I’m really not qualified to answer this.
Mostly because if I told her not to wear the third one, it wouldn’t be because she looked bad. It would be because Jamie would take one look at her and get an erection.
Like I was currently sporting.
In my car.
In the parking lot of the old people’s home.
Fan-fuckin’-tastic.
KINSLEY: Omg you have to help me!!!!!
ME: Don’t you have friends for this????
KINSLEY: JOSSSSSHHHHHH
ME: What can I tell you that Holley, Saylor, Ivy, or Tori can’t? What did they say? Have you even asked them?
My phone rang with her name flashing on the screen. With a sigh, I answered, and it automatically connected to my car via Bluetooth, but Kinsley spoke before I had a chance.
“Of course I asked them!” she said down the line. “I’m not an idiot!”
I started the engine and backed out of my parking spot. “What did they say?”
“Holley and Saylor voted the red, Ivy said I looked more comfortable in the jeans, and Tori told me to wear the white dress and hike it up two inches.”
“That sounds like a scarily accurate representation of them all,” I mused, pulling onto the main road.
“I know, but I need a guy’s opinion and it’s not like I can ask Colton. I’m nervous enough without you making this decision harder.”
“Don’t you have to be at the restaurant in half an hour?”
“Yes! So help me!”
“Jesus, no need to shout. I’m driving, you know.”
“Good. Drive over here and help me.”
“Can’t. I just left tea with Grandma. I won’t get there in time.” I flicked the indicator in the direction of my house. “All right. What do you want me to tell you?”
“Which one should I wear?”
“Whichever one you feel most comfortable in,” I replied honestly. “There’s no point wearing the white dress if you’re worried it’s too much. The red is great, but Ivy’s right and you seem more comfortable in the jeans.”
She groaned. “Can’t I cancel it?”
“The date? No. It’s too late.”
“Damn it all to hell.”
“What would someone in your book do?”
“What?”
“If you were a character in a book, what would she do right now?”
“Well, probably fall over her dog’s rope and sprain her ankle,” she answered. “But I don’t have a dog, so…”
“What kind of books are you reading?” I muttered, mostly to myself, then said, “What are you going to wear, Kinsley? You’re running out of time.”
“Oh, I don’t know. Rain boots and nipple pasties!” she snapped.
There was a dull click as she hung up, and the car filled with an uncomfortable silence.
Well, if was going to wear that, it was definitely worth stopping by the restaurant to see the looks on their faces…
CHAPTER EIGHT – KINSLEY
rule eight: dates are not your soapbox. he doesn’t care how many things they got wrong in the third harry potter movie.
“It can’t have been that bad.”
I pulled my face up out of my hands and looked at Saylor and Holley. “Our table was booked for forty-five minutes ago and yet I’m here, at the bookstore. I ordered spaghetti. I’m wearing white. You add it up.”
Saylor grimaced. “Okay, it could have been that bad.”
I sat up straight and let them see the state of my white dress. It wasn’t the dress I’d sent to them earlier—I definitely hadn’t been comfortable with the tightness of that—but it didn’t really matter at this point.
Right in front of my dress, smack bang on my boobs, was a big, orange smear.
Holley pressed her hand to her mouth. “Oh, my God.”
Saylor didn’t even bother to hide her laughter. “How did you do that?”
I slumped back on the table. “It was a nightmare from the very beginning. His photos were definitely a little old, but whatever, he was nice. Until we started talking. He talked a lot about his job, and when I was finally able to steer the conversation away from it, we started talking about movies.”
“That’s not… so bad,” Holley ventured, coming back from the staff room with three wine glasses and a cold bottle of wine.
“Where did you get that?”
“I had a hunch.” Saylor snorted as she took the bottle from her.
Great. Even they knew this would go wrong.
“Okay, carry on.” Saylor slid a glass in front of me.
“He asked me what my favorites are, and when I said the best ones to binge are Harry Potter, he went on a rant about how shit the movies are and how he had no idea how anyone could enjoy them.”
Both of their eyes widened. They were the literal image of a deer in headlights.
“When I said they weren’t bad, they just weren’t as good as the books because they obviously missed a lot out—especially Azkaban—he told me he’
d never read the books but they were probably garbage, too.”
Holley gasped, clutching her hands to her check. “He did not!”
“He did!”
Saylor shot to her feet and planted her hands on the table. “Give me his number. Nobody talks shit about Harry and gets away with it.”
I held up my hands and shook my head. “It gets worse.”
She slowly sat back down, but she had murder in her eyes.
“After I changed the subject again, our food came and thankfully stopped another painful conversation. There was a crash somewhere in the restaurant, it spooked me, and I dropped spaghetti on my dress.” My cheeks burned at the memory of how shock and disgust had filled his eyes. “I excused myself to the bathroom to try to fix it—”
“Unsuccessfully,” Holley added brightly.
“Unsuccessfully,” I drawled. “But when I got back to the table, he was gone and had paid for his half of dinner. Rihanna said he’d had a phone call about a family emergency and rushed off, but even she rolled her eyes as she said it.”
“What a dick!” Saylor said, sipping her wine. “And Josh thought this guy was worth your time?”
“Well, people aren’t always the same in real life as they are on the internet.”
I pointed at Holley and nodded. “I don’t spill spaghetti on myself on the internet.”
She smiled sadly. “Sorry your date went badly, Kins.”
“It’s fine. It happens. I’m sure there’ll be another one that won’t be so terrible next time.”
“And you won’t be wearing white or ordering the spaghetti,” Saylor said with a grin.
“And I’ll find out how he feels about Harry Potter before I go.”
We all laughed and quickly moved on. It wasn’t that late and the store was technically still open, but it was so quiet that I helped them close up while we finished the bottle of wine.
When we were done, I waved them goodbye and got into my car, where I promptly kicked off my shoes to drive barefoot.
Yes, yes, don’t worry. I’d only had one glass of wine.
And a half.
I didn’t get a chance to drink the one I’d paid for at the restaurant.
My phone rang just as I pulled away, and I hit the button on the built-in screen on my dashboard. “Hello?”
“Oh. I didn’t expect you to answer.”
“Then why did you call me?”
My brother chuckled. “Bet with Josh. He bet you’d still be on the date, but I knew you’d left already.”
“How did you know?”
“I saw your car outside the bookstore.”
“Ah, so you cheated.”
“I omitted some truths,” he admitted. “Was it that bad?”
I relayed the story with a little less detail than I’d shared with the girls.
“Shit. You really know how to pick ‘em, huh?”
“I didn’t pick him. Josh did.”
“You need a new matchmaker.”
“I concur,” I muttered, pulling up to the intersection and flipping on my blinker. “What are you doing right now?”
“Outside Bronco’s, avoiding my girlfriend. We just grabbed dinner.”
“You and Josh or you and Amber?”
“Why would I have had dinner with Amber if I’m avoiding her?”
“I don’t know, you weren’t exactly clear in your last message.”
He huffed, making my speakers crackle. “Me and Josh. Amber is on the other side of Bronco’s with a friend. She doesn’t know I’m here.”
I shook my head. I’d said it a thousand times and I’d probably say it a thousand more: I didn’t know why they didn’t just break up. It wasn’t like they were eighteen anymore. Colton was almost thirty and Amber was twenty-eight.
How much more time were they going to waste on a relationship that was going nowhere?
That was the thing we should have all been betting on.
“Right,” I said slowly. “I’m trying not to judge you for that, but you’re really rather pathetic.”
“Says the woman who can’t have a date without getting spaghetti sauce on her white dress,” my brother shot back. “Hold on.” His voice became slightly muffled. “Yes, I said white… I don’t know, Josh, ask her yourself.”
Great.
“What? Jesus, okay, but it’s your funeral.”
“I’m still here,” I said, pulling onto my street.
There was a rustle and then, “Are you still at the store? Or are you at home? Your matchmaker wants a debrief.”
“I’m about to get home. And tell my matchmaker that if he’s coming over, expect me in pajamas, and I expect wine. I’m traumatized he thought someone who has never read the Harry Potter books has any right to trash my boy.”
“You’re so fucking weird.”
I laughed as Colt hung up. Perfect timing, I thought as I pulled into my driveway. I didn’t have to worry about disconnecting the call and messing around with my phone while I went inside.
I grabbed my things from the passenger side seat, including my shoes, and walked barefoot to my front door. After locking the car, I let myself into the house, dumped the shoes and my purse, and went straight for the stairs.
I was going to have to work some stain-removal magic on this dress the second it came off.
I hadn’t worn it in more than a year, but I was reminded how cute and versatile it was. One of those rare dresses you could dress up or down and it looked adorable either way.
If nothing else good came out of tonight, at least I had that.
I quickly changed into some sweatpants and a tank top that proclaimed me to be ‘bookish’ and took my dress into the kitchen. I ran cold water on the inside of the dress and scrubbed to loosen the stain, then flipped it over and scrubbed with both laundry detergent and white vinegar separately.
It smelled freaking awful.
I repeated the process until the stain was gone, holding it up to the light periodically to check it. When it looked as though it had disappeared, I pulled some regular, store-bought stain remover out of the cabinet under the sink and applied it.
Three knocks sounded at my door, and I yelled a, “Come in!” over my shoulder at Josh.
At least I hoped it was Josh.
“You know, you really shouldn’t leave your front door unlocked when it’s late,” was how Josh announced himself to me as he joined me in the kitchen.
I glanced at the clock. “It’s barely eight-thirty. Hardly late, unless you’re the other side of seventy.”
“Seventy? That’s generous. I know people the other side of thirty who call that bedtime.”
I rolled my eyes. “Did you bring wine?”
He stepped into my line of view and held up two bottles. “I thought this seemed adequate, especially given that I’m apologizing for a Harry Potter hater and not the fact he bailed on you when you used the bathroom.”
“Ugh, don’t remind me.” I checked the stain on my dress. “I just need to throw this in the washing machine. Wine glasses are in the cabinet by the fridge.”
He nodded to indicate he’d heard me. I took my dress to the utility room and shoved it in the washer alongside the few other white items I had. I threw some stain remover in there just for good measure and set the machine going, before I padded my way back into the kitchen.
Where Josh was nowhere to be found.
“Josh?”
“Back porch!”
If he didn’t have my wine…
I’d steal his.
Thankfully, he did have it.
“I locked your front door for you,” he said as I settled down on the sofa next to him. “You’re welcome.”
I rolled my eyes again and took the glass of wine, pleasantly surprised to find that it was already chilled. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” he repeated.
“All right, Maui, calm down.”
“Maui?”
“From Moana?”
“What�
�s Moana?”
I blinked at him. “The Disney movie?”
“Believe it or not, Kinsley, I don’t watch Disney movies in my spare time. I’m more of a sport guy than a princess one. Not that there’s anything wrong anyone who does watch them,” he finished hurriedly.
Snorting, I said, “Don’t worry, Joshua. Nobody is going to think you’re homophobic because you don’t watch Cinderella or Tangled in your spare time.”
Never mind that they were actually aimed at seven-year-old girls.
“I don’t know. Have you been on the internet lately? There are people who’d get offended if you said you didn’t like bananas.”
“Why wouldn’t you like bananas? Personally, unless they rise up and try to take over the forest, I think we should live and let live.”
His gaze, firmly on mine, didn’t waver, even as he shook his head and fought a smile. “You’re something else, you know that?”
“I think that’s a compliment,” I said dryly, lifting my glass to sip.
Mm, he’d bought Sauvignon. The good stuff, too.
“It was really that bad? The date?”
I shrugged and looked out at my yard. It wasn’t quite cold enough yet for a jacket, but it wouldn’t last much longer before I’d feel a chill and have to go inside. That also meant it wasn’t completely dark yet, and it was one of the things I loved about living in Montana.
Granted, winter could be grim, but summer was lovely and bright.
“I just didn’t click with him,” I said after a moment of reflection. “Pretty much straight away, I knew it wasn’t going to work. I don’t know why. As soon as we sat down and he opened his mouth, I figured out why.”
Josh choked back a small laugh. “Sometimes it happens like that. Getting along online and in person are two different things.”
“You can say that again.”
“What went wrong?”
“I really don’t know. He was just… God, he was so full of himself. Like he was God’s fucking gift to women, and I should bow down at his feet and lick his dirty little boots.” I shuddered. “It was all him-him-him, and even talking about movies circled back around to his likes, his dislikes, his what-the-fuck-ever. Even Harry Potter! The only person I’ve ever known to make Harry Potter about themselves is Saylor.”