Chapter 3
CHAPTER 3
W hen Riley finished work and went home to her apartment, both of her roommates were there. Annie sat on the couch, still in her nurse scrubs, going through email on her laptop. Delancey, who’d taken Olivia’s room after she’d moved to Denver, was not far away, cooking in their small kitchen. She worked at a beauty salon but cooked well enough that she could’ve gotten a job at a restaurant.
“I need a date,” Riley announced to them.
“Get in line,” Annie said. “I’m still waiting for Prince Charming to show up at the ER.”
Annie was blond and beautiful with the sort of curves Riley had always wanted but didn’t have. It probably wouldn’t take her long before some titled guy on a horse discovered her and swept her away from the life of a commoner.
People described Riley as athletic and toned but never as voluptuous. She was pretty but not beautiful. She was the type that guys were friends with, not the type that guys were entranced by.
Was there a way to change that?
Riley had been growing out her auburn brown hair since the summer, mostly because Delancey went on about how thick and gorgeous it was, how it could totally be starlet hair. Delancey liked to bemoan that people with the best hair never appreciated it. On most days, Riley didn’t know what to do with hers and just wore it in a French braid or ponytail.
Maybe she needed a makeover. Would new clothes make any difference?
Riley dropped her purse onto the coffee table and sank down on the couch beside Annie. “It occurred to me today that if Olivia and Carson get married, I’ll be stuck at the wedding with Lucas and whatever pageant queen he decides to bring. I need to start dating someone. And not just any guy, someone who’s as handsome as him.”
Delancey snorted. “I guess that pretty much leaves Jace as your choice.”
“I can’t date my ex’s twin brother. That would be weird.” Riley rested her head on the couch, thinking. “Or it would be the perfect revenge.” She considered the idea for another moment. Jace had an on-again, off-again girlfriend. He might be single at the wedding. “Would it be a bad thing to hit on an ex’s twin brother?”
“Yes,” Delancey said.
“That depends,” Annie said, eyes still on her laptop. “Did you date Lucas for his looks or his personality? If you want people to think you’re only dating guys for their looks, then it would be completely understandable.”
In other words, yes, Annie thought it would be wrong.
Riley didn’t want to let go of the idea so easily. “Jace has a good personality too.”
“Yeah,” Annie said, “just not one that’s your type.”
Did Riley have a type? “Maybe I’ve matured and now I’m ready for the smart, silent type of man.”
Delancey flipped a cheese sandwich on the griddle, making the bread sizzle. “Nick Floyd is visiting his parents the weekend after next. He texted me and asked if anything fun was going on. So he’s a possibility.”
Nick Floyd was Delancey’s brother’s friend, a guy in the class a year older than Lucas and Jace. Riley had only been at school with him for a few months during her sophomore year, so she didn’t know much about him except that he’d been a football player and a partier. After graduation, he’d gone to college and ended up doing something respectable in Bozeman. Some office job that paid well. And unless he’d changed a lot, he was good-looking.
“That sounds like he was asking you out,” Riley said.
Delancey strolled into the living room carrying a plate of grilled cheese sandwiches. “He knows I don’t think of him like that. He was just asking in general—or maybe because he knows I have hot roommates.”
Riley eyed her. “Does he know that?” Or did he just know about Annie? That was the problem with having Annie as a roommate. You were bound to feel insecure by comparison.
Delancey handed out sandwiches to Annie and Riley. “I could ask him if he’d like me to set the two of you up.” Instead of normal cheddar, Delancey had used brie and arugula, then added toasted apples and fig jam. It was a combination Riley never would’ve thought of, but she knew it would taste amazing because Delancey had made it.
Perhaps Delancey could make matches with the same talent she made food.
“I guess it wouldn’t hurt to ask him,” Riley said. “I’m long overdue for a Friday off.” The weekends were the busiest time for check-ins and check-outs, but the season had peaked, and only a few people would be at the inn at the end of October.
Delancey pulled her phone from her pocket. “I’ll text him now.”
This was happening quickly, but maybe that was for the best. Maybe it was never wise to overthink blind dates.
“Don’t make me seem desperate,” Riley said.
Delancey was still typing. “I won’t.”
Riley took a bite of the sandwich. She’d been right. It was a symphony of flavors. Warm and delicious. Who knew fig jam tasted this good?
Delancey’s phone pinged with a message. She read it and smiled. “He wants your number.”
Riley couldn’t help but feel complimented by the speed of his answer. He hadn’t been hoping for Annie, after all. “Okay. Give it to him.”
“Done,” Delancey said.
Done.
Riley really hoped she didn’t regret this decision.
The next day, Nick texted Riley to ask where she wanted to go to dinner and what she’d like to do afterward. Lark Springs didn’t have that many options for after-dinner activities, especially when the weather was cold. She’d already seen the movies she was interested in and wasn’t much of a bowler, so she opted for dancing. She could do that well enough.
A couple of days later, he texted her. I’ve been looking at your pictures online. Love the one of you in the blue bathing suit.
How should she feel about that message? Granted, she’d checked out his social media photos too. She needed to see how he held up in the make-Lucas-jealous-category. Nick had put on a few pounds since high school, but besides that, he looked the same. Sleek dark hair, hazel eyes, and a Roman nose that made him look like he might have been a chariot racer in a different age. So she couldn’t be upset that he’d looked at social media.
But should he comment on her swimsuit pics?
It wasn’t as though she’d been posing. She’d been down at the river taking a group of tourists kayaking, and one of them had tagged her in their pictures.
She wrote Nick back The best part of my job is the outdoor activities.
He answered with Maybe I’ll have to hire you for some activities of my own.
Okay, that could be construed the wrong way. Um, no, she wasn’t a call girl. Although, he might just mean he’d like to go kayaking sometime. It was hard to judge a person’s tone from a text.
She wrote You can see all of the activities the inn offers on our website.
After that, the rest of his texts were friendly but not suggestive. Good thing. She didn’t want a guy who expected something from her because he bought her a hamburger.
On Friday night, Nick showed up right on time. That was a point in his favor. He was taller than she remembered and more distinguished looking. Maybe that was due to his clothes. His shirt and jacket seemed expensive, even before she noticed the Ralph Lauren monogram embroidered on the pocket.
They made small talk while they walked to his car, a gray Tesla. It had an all-leather interior and heated seats. Being wealthy was another point in his favor. More for Lucas to be jealous about.
The conversation at dinner flowed easily. Nick talked about himself a lot, but that was normal on a first date, or at least normal for successful men. They always wanted to let a woman know they were a good catch. Nick also complimented her throughout the meal, which meant he might be interested in another date. Bozeman wasn’t that far away.
Maybe Nick would be more than just a good revenge wedding date. Maybe this could be the start of a relationship.
After dinner, they drove to Legends, a bar that had dancing on the weekends. Nick opened the door for her, took her hand, and led her over to the counter. The feel of his fingers wrapping around hers was nice. How long had it been since a guy held her hand? She’d dated a few guys last summer, but all of them had been tourists who’d stayed at the inn. She’d known that the chances of those dates turning into something serious were about as high as having a balmy day in December.
“What do you want to drink?” Nick asked.
“A diet Sprite.”
“Soda?” he asked. “We’re here to have fun. Get a tequila or something.”
Apparently Delancey hadn’t mentioned to Nick that she didn’t drink. He hadn’t commented at dinner when Riley chose water instead of the red wine he’d ordered, so she’d thought he knew.
“I don’t drink,” she answered.
He cocked his head as though she’d just told him she expected Bigfoot to make an appearance. “Why not?”
That wasn’t a simple question, and she changed her answer depending on who asked. Sometimes she said, “Religious reasons” because most people didn’t ask more questions after that, lest she try to convert them. Sometimes she said, “Health reasons,” and let people wonder whether she had liver problems or was just really careful about nutrition.
If she was trying to get rid of a guy, she’d been known to say, “I can’t get another DUI, or I’ll go to prison again.”
But the answer was deeper and more painful than that. When she’d moved to Lark Springs in high school, she hadn’t told anyone that she came to live with her grandmother because her mother had lost custody of her.
Riley didn’t drink because she’d seen what it had done to her mother and wasn’t about to make the same mistakes. Or, as Olivia suggested once, Riley was too angry at her mother to even risk making the same mistakes. If Riley ever developed a drinking problem, then she’d have to forgive her mother for her failings.
Olivia could only get away with saying those sorts of things because her father was an alcoholic. She understood what it was like.
Nick probably didn’t.
He was standing there waiting for a response, and she debated which to give. Telling him about her mother on the first date wasn’t an option. She didn’t want pity.
Riley shrugged. “Someone has to be the designated driver. This way, you can drink as much as you like.”
He squeezed her hand. “That’s the beauty of having a self-driving car. We can both drink as much as we want.” He turned to the bartender. “A Manhattan for me and a daiquiri for the lady.”
Riley blinked at him in surprise. He was just going to disregard what she’d said? “I’ll stick with a diet Sprite,” she told the bartender. “I’d hate to lose my AA chip tonight.”
Nick’s head swung to her. “Are you serious? Do you have…” he let the question drift off, unsure how to ask her if she was really a recovering alcoholic.
She probably wasn’t making the best impression, but honestly, he shouldn’t have tried to override her order. “I’m just joking,” she said, “I’ve never drunk.”
“Never?” His face registered astonishment. “Well, don’t be afraid to try something new.”
She should’ve gone with the It’s against my religion reason. People didn’t argue about that one. “I don’t need alcohol to have a good time,” she said. “I’m an extrovert. It’s our superpower.”
His smile was back. “Fine. I’ll hold you to that.”
Once they’d finished their drinks, Nick led her out onto the dance floor. “I’m not good at this,” he said. “Have low expectations.”
“That’s my go-to attitude for first dates.”
As it turned out, he wasn’t joking. He danced awkwardly, like he couldn’t quite find the music’s beat. Somehow his awkwardness was endearing, though. It softened his perfect image, and she gave him credit for dancing when it wasn’t something he felt comfortable doing. He’d come here because she’d told him she preferred it over bowling.
They could always take dancing lessons before the wedding. That would be a fun date idea.
Dancing made them both thirsty, and they went back to the bar two more times for drinks. Each time he ordered alcohol, which perhaps shouldn’t have lost him points, but it did. Thanks, Mom. Now in Riley’s mind, drinks always came with imaginary little red flags tucked into the glass like those paper umbrellas in pina coladas.
Maybe he saw her disapproval. He took a sip of his martini and said, “I get better at dancing the more I drink. I’m doing this for you.”
“You dance fine.”
“Liar. For our next date, we’ll do something I’m good at. Do you like rock climbing or snowboarding?”
He wanted a next date. She glowed with the compliment. “I like them both.” If he enjoyed outdoor sports, they had things in common. He had potential. She flirted with him, and when they slow-danced, she let him hold her close and rested her head against his chest.
She felt that way until the next time he ordered a drink. Along with the two glasses of wine he had at dinner, this was his sixth drink. The red flags were getting larger and beginning to flap wildly in the breeze.
Time to call it a night. She reminded him that she had to work in the morning, and instead of returning to the dance floor, they got their coats and left.
“Remember,” he said as they crossed the parking lot, “you promised you would have a good time without drinking.”
“And I have. Dancing was fun.”
“By the third drink, dancing was fun.”
Should she mention that he hadn’t actually become a better dancer the more he drank? Nah, it was probably too early to tease him or tell him hard truths. “You’ve had a lot to drink, why don’t I drive?”
“No need.” He took his keys from his pocket. “My Tesla is completely sober. Look…” He pressed a button on his key fob, and the car not only turned on, it slid out of its parking space and pulled up in front of them. “The heater is already running, the seats are warming, and I can also have the car play the Star-spangled Banner or make farting noises.”
“Why would a car ever need to do those things?”
He walked around the vehicle to open her door. “Sometimes you’re feeling patriotic and sometimes you’re…” He searched for the right words. “Full of gas.”
“Not if you’re an electric car.”
He laughed a little too loudly.
She climbed into the passenger side. He got bonus points for opening her door like a gentleman, but minus points for being tipsy. She wasn’t sure what number that left him with. The math of attraction could be difficult sometimes. Was she just so desperate for a wedding date that she was giving points where they weren’t merited?
He put her address in the GPS, but instead of leaving, he demonstrated how the car could do a light show while playing Auld Lang Syne.
Everyone walking through the parking lot turned to stare at them. Riley slunk down in her seat. “Very nice.”
Then the car made farting noises. Nick laughed. She pressed her hand to her forehead. “Can people see through the windows?” He was definitely losing attraction points for this.
A couple of guys who’d just come out of the bar glared in their direction. One of them flipped the car off.
“They’re just jealous.” Nick made the car repeat the sound and called, “I fart in your general direction.”
He was quoting Monty Python on their date. Should that be a plus or minus in her point system?
One of the men marched over to them. His head was shaved, probably so people could better see the tattoos there. An inked snake coiled around his head like a threatening hat. “You got something to say to me?” He banged on Nick’s window.
Nick jumped and swore. “Hey, don’t touch my car!” He must’ve decided the man couldn’t hear him because he started unrolling his window.
“What are you doing?” Riley chirped. “Just drive away.” No need to talk to the crazy snake man.
Nick continued unrolling the window, letting a stream of cold air inside. “Dude, if you dent my car, I’ll buff it out with your face.”
“That so?” the man growled back.
“Yeah,” Nick said. “It is.” The guy was shorter and thinner than Nick and considerably more drunk, but that didn’t mean that getting out of the car was a good idea.
“Drive away,” she said again. “You have nothing to prove to Mr. Snake Head.” A crowd was gathering around the parking lot. A woman had her phone out, either recording the event or calling the police.
The man hit Nick’s car again, this time on the hood. “Listen to your girlfriend and drive away, coward.”
Nick went for his door handle. Riley grabbed his arm. “He might have a weapon.”
Mr. Snake Head’s friend came over and spoke to the man in lowered tones. He might have been trying to calm him down or perhaps was giving him fighting tips.
Nick stuck his head out the window. “Hey, you gotta weapon?”
Did Nick expect the hoodlum accosting the car to answer that question honestly?
The man pulled a pair of brass knuckles from his pocket, slipped them on with a flourish, and flipped Nick off again.
Who carried that sort of thing around with them?
“Brass knuckles?” Nick scoffed. “I’ve got a car. That beats your weapon, so you’d better get out of my way.” He took the car out of gear.
“What are you doing?” Riley sputtered. He wasn’t really going to run over the man, was he?
Nick let the car edge forward. “The problem with an electric car is that you can’t rev it when you want to sound threatening.”
The man backed up in alarm, still swearing. His bloodshot eyes bulged in his head.
“Stop it!” Riley grabbed the armrest. “Committing homicide on the first date is a major turn-off.”
Nick drove ahead and swerved past the man, gliding through the parking lot like the whole thing had been a joke. “What about on the second date?”
“Not then either.” She spun in her seat to see what Snake Man was doing. His friend was holding him back from chasing after the car. The man waved an arm in the air and yelled things at them.
Nick rolled up his window and pulled into the street. “How about the third date?”
“I thought you wanted to go rock climbing and snowboarding. When did homicide become a date option?”
He threw his head back and laughed. “I like you, Riley. You’re funny.”
They’d put enough distance between themselves and the bar that she stopped worrying Snake Man would run after them. She slumped in her seat and let out a long breath. What had just happened? This couldn’t be normal behavior for Nick, could it? He was a successful businessman, not some drunken idiot looking for trouble.
He turned in his seat to look at her. “This is where you say, ‘I like you too, Nick. Let’s do this again soon.’”
“The dancing part or the murder part? I need time to plan my alibis.”
He laughed again. “Always thinking ahead.”
No, she was deflecting the question because she didn’t want a second date. Getting into fights with strangers in the parking lot, yeah, not a fan. Zero stars. Would not recommend the experience.
Nick took one hand off the wheel, bent down, and picked up something underneath his seat. Riley knew the car was self-driving, but she still had to resist the urge to grab the wheel. He wasn’t looking where the car was going at all.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
He sat up holding an ankle weight. He attached it to the bottom of the steering wheel. “The car wants to feel the weight of my hands on the steering wheel, so when I’ve got to do other things, I put this on it.”
She tried to quell her alarm. “Is that safe?” She’d only ever driven beater cars. Hers didn’t even have a backup camera.
“Perfectly safe.” He turned to her with a soulful gaze. “I’d rather look at you than at the street.”
“That’s nice, but I think we should look at the street because I just met your car, and I don’t trust it not to kill me.”
He reached for her hand. “You’re hilarious. And beautiful. I think I’m in love.”
“You’re just drunk. I’m told the feelings are similar. You’ll probably regret both in the morning.” His hand on hers no longer felt soothing. It felt distracting and intrusive.
He scooted closer. “I want to kiss you.”
Her eyes kept darting to the street. “Bad idea. Can your car effectively drive when there’s a weight attached to it? That has to slow its reaction time, doesn’t it?”
“It’s fine.”
Was it, though?
If a console hadn’t separated her from Nick, he would’ve already been in her seat. Since she was leaning away from him, he brought her hand to his mouth and kissed it. Then kissed it again.
Dude, read the room . Her gaze went to the street again. “Sorry. I can’t feel romantic when I’m worried about dying.”
This date was becoming surreal. Her mind still hadn’t fully processed what had happened with Snake Man and was now inventing scenarios where she suddenly woke up at a crash scene and had to explain to the paramedics why she’d thought it was okay to let an ankle-weight drive the car.
A stern-faced EMT would peer down at her and say, “You must have realized your date was drunk. Why didn’t you stop him from attaching gym equipment to the steering wheel?”
Nick moved closer, undeterred. “We can go somewhere else if you want.”
Yeah, that wasn’t happening. Before she could answer, her attention was drawn to flashing lights that had just turned on behind them. A police car was following them.
Well, this night just kept getting better.
Nick swore and returned to his side of the car. He ripped the ankle weight off the steering wheel, tossed it under the seat, and slowed down, all the time watching the lights in the rearview mirror. “What does he want with us? I wasn’t speeding.” Nick turned into a gas station parking lot and stopped.
Riley hoped that the police car would drive past them, that it had been heading somewhere else. But it didn’t. Of course, it didn’t. It followed them into the parking lot and pulled up behind them.
Riley pressed her hands together in silent supplication that Lucas Clark wasn’t the policeman in the squad car. That wasn’t too much to ask, was it?
Apparently, yes, it was.
Lucas stepped out of the car and sauntered up to them.