Party Animal (Prickle Island Zoo #3)
Chapter 1
Chapter One
Frankie
Was there anything more depressing than sitting alone at a romantic restaurant, looking out at the ocean? I took a loud sip of my too-sweet strawberry daiquiri and dropped my chin into my hand as I stared at my phone. He still hadn’t called. He probably never would again.
The perky twentysomething waitress sidled over to me with the crisp white menu and I tried desperately not to start crying . . . again.
"Are you waiting for anyone?" she asked in her overly exuberant customer service voice.
I plucked the menu from her grip, my third drink making me more brazen than normal. "Nope. I am very, very, very alone," I grumbled. "I just had my fiancé tell me I'm suffocating him and that he needed his freedom so . . . it's just me tonight and every night forevermore, thanks."
Damn. That daiquiri had really loosened my tongue.
The mousy brunette flashed me a tight smile. "How about another drink on the house?”
"Thanks," I said, returning her half-hearted smile. I didn't want her pity, but when a free drink was on offer, I’d accept it . . ..
She gave me a sympathetic nod and disappeared while I buried my face in the giant pages of the menu. I really needed to get it together. I was in public for crying out loud! I was the sort of person who never caused a stir, always followed the rules, always waited in line, never rocked the boat, and never made a public scene. But maybe if I had been a little more of a shit stirrer every once in a while, I’d still be engaged! Nibbling on a breadstick, I glared around the room, defying any other guests to judge me in my pathetic state.
I was still reeling from Jake's sudden announcement that he was calling off our five-year engagement. Five years! And three more years of dating before that. Where had my twenties gone? I was almost thirty now and starting all over again as if Jake had just hit reset on nearly a whole decade of my life!
I'd given my best years to him and he just suddenly, out of the blue, said it's over? When he pulled the rug out from under me, not only did I have to move out of our apartment—that never officially had my name on—but I was also basically driven out of his hometown in Upstate New York. His family owned everything from the hardware store to the gas station, and there was no way I could stay in that town after he ended things.
And my café.
My sweet, beautiful café . . . The thought of it made me ache. I’d built my dream shop in someone else's hometown and now Frankie's Café was being turned into a pizza joint. They even kept the sign and just painted over the word “Café” with a poorly-drawn slice of pizza.
It had felt like someone had torn out a piece of my soul when I’d seen they’d repainted it, plastered the cheery floral interior with burgundy, green, and black. Now, the new “Frankie” was a little cartoon Italian man, and my whole life story was erased and covered over in cheap finishings. A part of me was missing now. A part I didn't think I'd ever get back.
But at least I had some place to go. I scrolled back through my new contract, reading it again and again while sipping the dregs of my daiquiri. This new job truly fell into my lap and still didn’t feel real. I reread the welcome email to make sure the whole thing wasn’t a hallucination.
Evelyn Lachlan, the CEO of Prickle Island Zoo, had thrown me a lifeline without even knowing who I was. I’d found a job as a chef on the swanky Prickle Island for the summer, room and board included in the position. I'd be far, far away from that little town upstate and all of those dusty blond-haired Dunn family members with their smug faces and their ridiculous “family values.” They'd never been particularly welcoming of me, but I’d thought I'd managed to mostly win them over . . . that was before I’d come home to their son unceremoniously packing my suitcase.
Fucking Jake.
I frowned down at my phone—my only companion for this dinner. Maybe I should just get my food to go. I didn't want everyone wondering if I'd been stood up or if I was just naturally a very sulky loner.
I lifted my head up to look out the glass front doors of Neptune’s Bounty restaurant when I caught sight of a familiar mop of dusty blond hair.
And when I saw his face . . .
My heart fell out of my asshole.
Jake motherfucking Dunn was here , at a random little waterfront restaurant in shoreline Connecticut?! Did I break a mirror or steal an ancient artifact from a volcano or something? What was happening?
I watched in rapt horror as Jake stepped back and held open the door.
Oh my fucking god.
A gorgeous, skinny blonde with a giant rack, who looked barely 21, waltzed in behind him. Soft waves of white-blonde hair cascaded over her shoulder, her dress a shimmering metallic, and sky-high stilettos that she walked in with a practiced ease. She tittered and beamed a too-whitened smile at my ex like he was a freaking movie star.
He was with someone. HE WAS WITH SOMEONE? We'd broken up two weeks ago and he'd already found another woman?
My stomach clenched as my thoughts spun out of control.
Oh god. What if they'd been together while we’d been together? What if she’d been was the reason he’d called it off? He'd found a younger, smaller, sexier version of me.
I shrunk down in my seat as Jake’s hand dropped to the small of Tinkerbell’s back and he guided her to the hostess. That hand used to guide me through a room like that. My eyes welled.
No. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
I desperately scoured the room. I needed to get out of here immediately, but there was no escape. Walking right past them was not an option.
Why did I wear my rumpled blouse with a fucking marinara stain on it? I hadn't even freshened my smudged makeup. I'd just checked into the waterfront hotel after I’d missed the last ferry to Prickle Island and stumbled my way over here from hunger alone. I could not be seen looking this pathetic after our breakup, especially not when he looked so damn good.
Jake's eyes swept over the room and my mind snapped in two. I darted to the bar before his floodlight gaze spotted me. I zeroed in on a man sitting alone at the bar—short black hair, tattoos peeking up the neck of his suit jacket and across the back of his hands that toyed with a whisky glass. I darted in his direction . . . except when I spied the back of his phone case, it had “She/Her” scrawled in silver words. Huh. I slid onto the stool and glimpsed the face of a ridiculously handsome woman.
My mouth fell open. She was truly stunning—an arresting mixture of masculine and feminine, strong jaw and deep, piercing brown eyes. She wore a business casual outfit of chinos, navy jacket, and a cream-colored T-shirt. My gaze trailed from her shortly cropped black hair to the eyebrow and snake bite piercings and down to the tattoos peeking from the collar of her shirt.
Well, she was certainly unexpected, but right then, I didn’t care. I needed help STAT. Her eyes widened in surprise as I leaned into her. I probably looked like a rabid raccoon judging by the alarm on her face. She looked like I might bite her.
"I am so, so sorry to do this," I said, frantically searching the room behind her to see if Jake had seen us. "But my ex just walked in, my very, very recent ex, and can you please just pretend to be my date for like 30 seconds? I’ll buy you a drink for your troubles, and I’ll be eternally grateful.”
The mystery woman’s dark eyebrows shot up but a smile curved her lips. I shot a glance over to Jake and this time, he looked back.
"Fuck, he's seen me." I groaned, ducking my head behind the stranger’s broad shoulders. "Oh god, oh god, oh god."
The woman took my hand and threaded her fingers through mine. She gave it a firm, reassuring squeeze.
"Frankie!" Jake called, trying to wave me down.
"Shit. Fuck. I'm going to cry.” I gulped, my eyes misting again.
“No, you’re not. I’ve got you," the stranger said, and before I could ask her what the fuck that meant, her other hand swept around to the back of my neck and she kissed me.