Chapter 6
ENZO
“Remember that guy? He’s a total douchebag,” I grumble, watching across the town square as the douchebag in question accepts a Santa hat and beard at the door of Love at First Sip.
Now, the time has come for Devil Woman’s big moment: Santa Speed Dating.
Did I temporarily lose my mind last night at Hidden Italy?
Yes, but I have a competitive streak that doesn’t quit, and Devil Woman challenged me by claiming her event would be better than ours.
Then the mayor inadvertently threw down the gauntlet when he told me about the auction at Hook, Wine, and Sinker.
To carry on with our evening as planned would have been unthinkable.
I couldn’t let the evening be a forgettable dud, a hiccup in Hideaway Harbor’s jam-packed holiday calendar.
So I pivoted, the way I’ve trained people to do throughout my consulting career.
And look what happened—I danced on a table and caught a bra in my teeth, all while my grandmother was watching, probably saying the rosary for me the whole time.
In some ways, the evening backfired. My brothers are pissed at me, because we all got purchased by women who planned to torment us as payback for my grandmother banning Eileen and her “girls.” But at least we raised money for charity, and we definitely made a splash.
The party only got wilder after the auction, with limoncello and champagne flowing freely. People really did come in from off the street, attracted by the chaos.
We sold out of a few of our artisanal pasta and olive oil imported from the hills of Sicily and handed out dozens of cards for catering orders.
So I’m calling it a success, if only because I need a win.
Of course, Giovanni, Chief Shit Stirrer, recruited a friend to capture video footage of me table dancing. He sent it to Aria, so she’s been laughing at me all day, sending memes of dancing men.
I’d be more pissed at my brother, but when I told him we needed to do some surveillance on the Sip to make sure Santa Speed Dating didn’t out-do our event, he agreed with an eyeroll.
Which is why we’re sitting across the street by the front window of Kippis, the Finnish bar that has karaoke on Thursdays and is thus a good place for a pint on any night but Thursday.
It gives us a distant view of the comings and goings of the coffee shop, although we have to peer past a whole host of tourists milling around Town Square to see it.
Still, I used to go bird watching with my grandfather when I was a kid.
I learned how to spot Maine’s rare birds from a distance.
I can sure as shit spot a douchebag, like the one who just walked into Love at First Sip.
Call it a stakeout, if you will, but I like to think of it as vigilance. I want to know who’s in the running for Devil Woman’s virginity. Someone has to look out for her.
“Do you want a pair of binoculars?” Giovanni asks with an amused twist of his mouth.
“Do you have any?”
He gives me a sidelong glance. “Want me to ask around? I can let everyone know why you need them too.”
I shake my head dismissively, then gesture to the window. “The guy who just went in there….he’s the weirdo who got caught jerking off into our English teacher’s handbag.”
Giovanni laughs. “And guess what? Now he folds women’s underwear at the lingerie store.”
“No shit.”
“Sometimes God works in mysterious ways.”
I snort, my gaze still glued across the street. “You sound like Nonna. God, all these guys are douchebags.”
My brother lifts his beer for a drink. “Yeah, that’s probably why they decided they had nothing better to do on Friday night than go to Santa Speed Dating.
I’d sooner give up my left nut. I’ll bet no one’s ever washed those beards they’re handing out.
But you know what? At least those guys have a choice in the matter.
I bet they didn’t have their big brother whispering in their ear. ”
“You’re still pissed about the taffy thing,” I reflect, my gaze locked on the small storefront across the way.
I watch as another douchebag struts up. Sure, he’s a stranger to me, so it’s possible I’ve got him all wrong, but I don’t think so.
He’s wearing a black coat that has the brand emblazoned across the back.
Only douchebags choose to be walking advertisements.
If you’re going to advertise for someone, you make them pay for the pleasure.
My brother groans. “Yes, I’m still pissed about the taffy thing. So be prepared to hear about it at least a dozen times tonight.”
“That’s fair, I guess.” I can feel him staring at me, so I look over. “What?”
“Why do you care so much about who’s coming and going over there? Is this about that Lucy woman?”
“Lucy?”
He lifts his eyebrows. “Bro, if a woman told me I was a bad lover in front of my neighbors, you can bet your ass I’d find out her name. And I’d volunteer to show her how wrong she was so she could write a Yelp review and let everyone else know.”
“Her name’s Lucy?” I ask in an undertone, watching as a few women enter the shop.
“Lucy Taylor.”
I frown as another guy lines up at the café’s door. “Brandon Fucking Wright is going to this thing?”
Everyone around town knows he hooks up with a different tourist every weekend, because he enjoys bragging about his conquests.
My hand tightens around my pint glass.
If she sleeps with him, he’ll tell everyone. He’ll…
“I have to go,” I say, setting the beer down.
He turns on his high stool to give me an incredulous look. “Are you going to sabotage Santa Speed Dating?” He pauses. “There’s a sentence I never thought I’d say.”
“I don’t know,” I tell him, which is true. But I feel sick over the thought of Lucy going home with that guy. I can’t let it happen. I just can’t.
“Don’t you think this feud with Love at First Sip has gone on long enough? Literally everyone is on Eileen’s side. Hell, I think even Aria is on Team Eileen.”
“Sounds like Aria,” I murmur.
“I might even be on Eileen’s side. You should leave it alone.”
I clench my jaw and watch as the door across the street opens from within. Lucy stands in the doorway and ushers in the guests. Even though I can barely see a crescent of her face, I know it’s her.
I watch the line of people shuttle in, frowning when Brandon pauses to whisper something to her.
“Aria’s happier than she’s ever been, so there’s no point in holding a grudge on her account,” Giovanni continues.
“And let’s be honest, Rachelle was going to break up with you anyway.
She was also kind of…I don’t call women bitches, so I’m going to say she was an asshole.
Everyone thought so. Did you hear what she pulled at The Haven? ”
“Do you honestly think it’s possible that I haven’t?” I ask, rolling my eyes. “At least five different people have told me. Another two sent me the review she left them. I would have ordered Wren an apology bouquet, but if anyone found out, it would probably be considered a marriage proposal.”
He chuckles. “Gotta love this town.”
“Do we, though?”
“It’s that or go mad.”
Maybe I am going mad. Because I can’t keep my eyes off that door.
I have to get over there. The need to intervene is pounding through me, buzzing in my blood.
But it’s a ticketed event, and I don’t have a ticket.
I’m pretty sure no one would have sold me one, either, all things considered.
“I’m not trying to mess with them. I swear on Nonno’s grave.
I just want to make sure Brandon Wright doesn’t cause trouble. You know what he’s like.”
The look of disbelief he gives me does not flatter my ego, but I can’t tell him about that pink slip of paper I found. Or that Lucy is a virgin looking to get laid by one of these jerks. Telling him would make me like Brandon Wright. A douchebag.
Maybe I shouldn’t care what she does. She’s made it very clear what she thinks of me, and there’s no denying she’s an aggravating pain in my ass.
But she doesn’t know what it’s like here yet.
She thinks she does, but she hasn’t dealt with the underside of Hideaway Harbor—the way the gossip can grind a person down to an old stump.
I don’t want her to find out the hard way.
He watches me for several seconds, then nods.
“Okay. But don’t just barge in there. They’ll throw you out.
Worse, they’ll get a guy like Brandon to do it.
Sure, you could beat the shit out of him, but you don’t want to get thrown into jail for hitting a guy in a Santa suit.
Wait until one of the guys comes out, and then you can bribe him to let you take his place.
” He points at the coffee shop. “The creep who jacked off into the handbag is a chain-smoker. No way he’s not going to come out in another ten minutes for a smoke. ”
“Right, yeah, that makes sense,” I mumble, drumming the table with my fingers.
Am I really going to do this?
Yes, I’m going to do this.
“Are you coming with me? Maybe we can pick off two of them.”
He smirks. “No, man. I’m going to sit here and drink while I watch my big brother make a fool of himself.”
“I’d do the same in your place,” I say with a small smile, surprised to realize I’m enjoying myself.
“Now, the question is how you’re going to linger outside for the ten minutes or so it takes for the perv to need a smoke without looking like a stalker.”
“The problem has occurred to me,” I admit.
“So I’m going to do my final good deed of the night and tell you I may have a way to help. Nonna made a batch of cinnamon brooms late last night while she was muttering about her idiot grandchildren, and she made me carry them into the shop this morning. I’ve smelled like cinnamon all day.”