4. Frannie
The awkward partof the evening had arrived. Andrew pulled into my driveway, then hopped out to walk around and open the car door for me. He’d been a gentleman all night… opened the door to the restaurant for me, held my chair out at dinner, and refused my offer to split the check. Everything about him was so… nice.
I wished there were a spark of something else between us, but talking to him was like chatting with a colleague. It didn’t make sense. The conversation flowed easily. He laughed at the right times, and his classic good looks had heads turning as we made our way to our table.
There wasn’t anything wrong with him, but there was no chemistry. At twenty-seven years old, I wasn’t sure if I was ready to give up hope of finding THE ONE. The older I got, the more things I crossed off my “must have” list. If I wanted to make my dad’s dream of being able to walk me down the aisle and meet his own grandchild before he died or no longer recognized me come true, I needed to take some big strides toward finding a potential partner.
Could Andrew be a contender?
I searched his face as he opened the passenger door and held out his hand.
“Thanks for a great evening.” He tucked my hand in the crook of his elbow and walked toward my front porch.
“Thank you. I had a good time, and that dessert was to die for. You were right about the tiramisu.”
His smiled widened at the compliment. “Best in Tennessee. Though, we’re not really known for amazing homemade tiramisu around here, are we?”
“After tasting that, I’m not sure why not. You might need to start a petition to change our state dessert to tiramisu. I’d sign it.” We reached the porch and moved up the short set of stairs.
Andrew chuckled. “Does Tennessee have a state dessert?”
“If they don’t, they should.” We stopped in front of the door. The steady beat of my pulse gave way to an erratic thump-pitter-thump. Part of me wished he’d kiss me, so I’d know if there was potential between us. A bigger part of me hoped he wouldn’t even try since I was way out of practice.
He stepped in front of me, then took both of my hands in his. “I’ll have to look into it. Can I get back to you? Maybe Saturday night if you’re not busy?”
My heart skipped a few beats. Did I want a second date? The conversation had come easily, and I’d enjoyed the evening. It wasn’t like I was entertaining other offers. Andrew was the first guy who’d asked me out in over a year. So what if we lacked a little chemistry? My mom used to tell me she didn’t even like my dad the first few times they met, and they’d had almost thirty years together before she passed away.
“What do you think, Frannie? Can I take you out on Saturday night? The winery outside of Bordent is doing a three-course dinner paired with wines from their vineyard. Should be fun.”
I’d talked about going to the vineyard with Evan, but every time it came up in conversation, he had with a reason why he couldn’t make it. I suspected it had more to do with him thinking wine was beneath him. For someone whose family had been distilling whiskey for several generations, he was pretty biased against anything that didn’t register at least forty proof. “That sounds fun. I’d love to go.”
“Really?” Andrew’s brows arched like he couldn’t believe I’d say yes. He was relatively new in town and had just moved to Beaver Bluff from Charlotte, which was probably why he didn’t realize he’d joined an elite group of society here—the accomplished single man club. There were very few members, and once word got out that he was single, his calendar would fill up fast.
“Yes, really. I had a good time tonight, Andrew. Thanks so much for dinner.” I bit down on my lip and wondered again if he’d try to kiss me.
He leaned forward, making my breath catch in my throat. Then he lifted my hand and touched it lightly to his lips.
“I’m looking forward to Saturday already.” The kiss was innocent enough, but I knew I didn’t misinterpret the flash of hunger in his dark-blue eyes.
“I’ll see you then.” I gently tugged my hand from his grip and turned to fumble with my keys, trying to get the front door unlocked. After several missed attempts, the key slid into the lock, and I pushed open my front door. I wasn’t about to ask him in, and he didn’t make a move to invite himself.
With a final wave and a grin, I stepped into the house and pulled the door closed behind me. Letting out a deep breath, I sagged against the wall. Pete the Dog rushed over and covered my hand with sloppy, wet kisses. I’d had a good time tonight, but I wasn’t sure going out on a date with Andrew was worth holding back the truth from Evan.
When he sent me that text to check on my dad, I almost caved and told him everything. Even now, hours after his last text, guilt still churned through my stomach. How could I tell him I’d gone out with a Stewart? Even though Andrew wasn’t one of the Stewarts who ran the distillery with Evan’s family, he was still related to them and shared the same last name.
Evan would never forgive me if he found out I was dating a Stewart. That’s why I hadn’t come clean. I pushed off the door and wandered into the kitchen to get a drink of water. Pete the Dog followed. It was barely after nine. I was surprised Charice hadn’t called yet to get the rundown on how my evening had gone.
My phone rang as if on cue. “Hello, stalker.”
Charice let out a laugh. “You’re answering. That’s not a good sign.”
“I have work tomorrow. You know I don’t like to stay out late on school nights.” I filled a glass from the water dispenser in the refrigerator and took it into the family room.
“You don’t like to stay out late at all. How was dinner?”
I ignored the jab at my lack of a social life. “Good. That place has the most amazing tiramisu. We’ll have to go sometime.”
I plopped down on my couch—the one piece of furniture I’d bought for myself. It had been a splurge, but the down-filled cushions were worth it. Pete the Dog wasn’t supposed to get on the furniture, but I’d given up trying to keep him off a few weeks ago. Sinking in, I rested my hand on his back and took a sip of water while I waited for her to get to the real point of her call. She wanted info.
“So, did he kiss you goodnight?”
Yep, there it was. She wanted the juicy details. I decided to lead her on for a few minutes. Life was too short to let it go by without getting a rise from Charice.
“Mmm. Maybe,” I teased, knowing she wouldn’t let it go at that.
“Was there tongue?”
“So much tongue.”
“What does that mean? Does he kiss like a lizard or something?” I could hear the “ewww” in her tone and tried not to laugh.
“How much tongue is too much?” I asked. These were the kinds of questions that needed to be answered at nine-thirty on a Monday night.
“Well,”—Charice started—“if you choke on it, I guess that would be too much. You didn’t choke on it, did you?” Her tone had changed from disgusted to slightly excited.
“Some women like to choke on male body parts, you know,” I teased.
“Girlfriend, I know you didn’t deep throat Andrew Stewart’s tongue or any other part of him.” She huffed out a breath. “You didn’t let him kiss you, did you?”
“He kissed my hand. It was very sweet.”
“Ugh. I think I might have just thrown up in my mouth a little. The last thing you need is a sweet hand kisser. When’s the last time you really kissed a guy?” Before I could answer, she added, “And by ‘guy,’ I mean someone you’re not related to. Giving your dad a peck on the cheek doesn’t count.”
In that case, I was going to need a few moments to raid my memory. I went back, past last Christmas, through the fall, and finally the face of a man I’d briefly dated last summer bubbled up. “July of last year. I went on two dates with that guy I met on the app you made me sign up for. Remember?”
“The guy who took off his socks and picked at his toes while you were having lunch together?”
“I kissed him before that.” A shiver rolled through me as I remembered that afternoon in vivid detail. “And that lunch was our last date.”
“Thank goodness. You haven’t seen Andrew’s toes yet, have you?”
“No.” I thought about it for a second. “Wait. Yes, I did see his toes because he was wearing flip-flops the day we met. He didn’t touch them, though.”
“Still, keep an eye on that. They weren’t long enough to use to cling from a tree branch, were they?”
“Gosh, no.” Charice had a thing against feet. They grossed her out. I wasn’t particularly fond of toes and couldn’t quite understand how someone could develop a fetish for someone else’s little piggies, but they didn’t offend me as much as they seemed to terrify my friend.
“So, what are you going to do about Andrew?” Charice asked. Evidently, she’d had enough toe talk and was ready to turn the attention back to my dating dilemma.
“We’re going out on Saturday. He invited me to a three-course dinner with wine pairing at the vineyard out past Bordent.” A funny feeling bubbled up in my belly. I wasn’t sure if it was anticipation or regret. It might have just been the aftereffect of loading my body with gluten after cutting out carbs for so long.
Charice clucked her tongue. “A second date already? He must really like you.”
I leaned forward to set the glass on the coffee table, not liking the way my hand shook. “Or maybe he just happened to have an extra ticket and no one to take.”
“Mm-hmm. Because most men I know would totally be down for grabbing two tickets to a fancy dinner without having someone to go with. He’s probably one of those guys who likes to dress up for no reason and carries his laptop around in a leather attaché case instead of a backpack. Am I right?”
Andrew was a good dresser, but there was nothing wrong with that. “Maybe someone gave him the tickets. Maybe he was going to take his mom, and she came down with a cold.”
“Ooh, you don’t want a mama’s boy, either.”
I blew out a frustrated breath. “I’m getting mixed signals here, Charice. I thought you wanted me to start dating again. Now you’re pointing out red flags that don’t even exist.”
“I’m just looking out for you. I don’t want you to settle on someone who isn’t right for you just because you don’t want to disappoint your dad.”
“I’m not.” I needed to work on my delivery. My protest sounded unconvincing, even to my own ears. “What’s wrong with going on a second date with a good-looking guy who knows how to carry a conversation and doesn’t pick at his toes during meals?”
She laughed. “I hope your standards haven’t sunk that low that those two things are your only criteria.”
“Don’t you have to get to bed so you can get up early to punish yourself?” Charice hated working out but had committed to doing the fundraiser run for our school that was coming up in a few weeks. She’d been trying to get me to join her for her daily runs, but I had zero interest.
“Lucky for you, I do. Want to grab lunch together tomorrow so you can finish filling me in on your date?”
“I’ve got cafeteria duty from eleven to twelve.” Most days, I loved interacting with the kids during lunchtime. The younger ones were so cute when they asked for help to open their milk cartons or squeezable yogurts, and the older kids would give me updates on what was happening in their lives outside of school. The first week back was always chaotic. Everyone forgot their lunch PINs over the summer or didn’t have money set up in their account yet. I didn’t mind pitching in.
“Oooh, they’re serving macaroni and cheese bites for lunch tomorrow. We can grab lunch when you’re done with your shift at noon.”
“You can grab mac and cheese. I’m going back to no-carbs after tonight.” My stomach gurgled in appreciation.
“As long as I get the details, I don’t care what you eat. Talk to you tomorrow.”
“Have a good night.” We hung up, and I tried to figure out what I could tell Charice about my date during lunch tomorrow. Not much. He was a gentleman the whole time. It had been a really nice evening.
Nice… there was that word again.
Charice was right. I didn’t want to feel pressured to latch on to the first man who showed an interest in me just so my dad could walk me down the aisle. But… there just weren’t that many options in Beaver Bluff, Tennessee. Two of the Bishop brothers were already taken, leaving Evan, my very platonic best friend, and his older brother, Vaughn.
Evan wasn’t an option. We’d known each other too long. Back in high school, I’d had a crush on him, but I’d talked myself out of it. I couldn’t imagine falling for someone who used to hide worms in my desk. And Vaughn… he was way too grumpy. That left the Stewart brothers. I’d never betray Evan by dating someone from the Stewart family who worked at the distillery with him, no matter how silly I thought the feud between the two families was.
Andrew might be a Stewart, but his side of the family wasn’t involved in the distillery. Based on my rationale, that made him a viable option. But what would Evan think?
It was too late to try to wrap my head around how Evan might feel about me going out with someone with the wrong last name.
“What do you think, Pete the Dog? Am I overthinking things again?”
He answered by nudging his nose into my leg—his way of letting me know it was time to go outside. I got up and crouched to bury my fingers in his thick fur. Charice might have an advanced degree in counseling, but sometimes just being around a dog was the best kind of therapy.