11. Avery
“What do you mean, life-changing?”
“I never said that!” I protest, finishing up my lunch wrap. Brooke is finally visiting me in Blackberry Cove for the weekend, and we’re celebrating with a picnic lunch together in the town square: sprawled on a blanket under the trees with a haul of sandwiches, soda – and gossip.
“You so did!” Brooke sits up, and grabs for her phone. “I offer into evidence your text from that night. Aha! Here it is: ‘I’m telling you, that man has a life-changing mouth.’”
“I was just being dramatic.” I try to laugh it off – even though I’ve been replaying that kiss over in my mind since Duke strolled out of view. It’s been two days since The Kiss, and I’ve relived it from every possible angle – and a few more besides. But just because it’s been consuming my every waking moment, I’m not quite willing to admit that out loud just yet.
Not even to Brooke.
“You know me,” I insist, trying to act carefree. “I exaggerate everything.”
“Yes, but usually it’s the bad stuff.” Brooke fixes me with a smirk. “Slug-tongued guy. Sprinkler-drool man. I’ve never heard you get this hot and bothered over a man. I was waiting for you to come out when we were younger… at least, until you lost your mind over that asshole,” she adds with a scowl, and I know she’s talking about my dirtbag rockstar ex. He was the first guy to ever break my heart, back when I was eighteen, and I swore then, he’d be the last.
And that’s one promise I’ve managed to keep.
“Well, there’s your answer then,” I decide, rolling onto my stomach. “The general level of men I’ve dated has been so underwhelming, that this thing with Duke just seems hotter in comparison. Really, the kiss was probably just average by anyone else’s scale. What’s it like with Tate?” I ask.
Brooke pauses. “I don’t know, we’ve been together for so long. Fine. Nice?”
Nice.
Another reason I don’t like the guy.
“See, now you’ve got me wondering,” Brooke pauses, frowning. “How hot can a kiss be, anyway? You did just kiss, right?”
“Yes!” I toss a grape at her. “Thank you very much. We’re pretending to date. PG-13. There’ll be none of those… extras.”
If just kissing Duke can fire me up like that, imagine how it would feel doing more than kiss… with fewer clothes… and a locked door?—
I gulp my icy soda, as Brooke hoots with laughter.
“You’re blushing!”
“Am not,” I protest. “It’s… a new cheek tint, that’s all.”
“Mmhmm.” Brooke grins. “Sure it is. But I’m glad to see you smiling,” she adds. “And it looks like this whole plan is working. The tabloids are behaving, everyone’s loving this new romance for you.”
I nod, relieved. If I’m going to have my hormones inconveniently stirred up like this, at least it’s moving my career back on track.
“They’ve stopped calling me a desperate, social-climbing slut, at least,” I say lightly. “And look!” I gesture around. “Nobody’s lurking in the bushes stalking my every move. They don’t have to anymore, not when Quinn’s already tipped them off that I’ll be having another date with Duke tonight.”
Brooke waggles her eyebrows suggestively.
“Another public, innocent date for the sake of my public reputation, and no other reason besides,” I clarify pointedly.
“Whatever you say, cuz.” She bounces up, brushing off her jeans. “That doesn’t mean you can’t look cute. Let’s go check out some of these boutiques, find you an outfit that says, ‘fall-madly-in-love-with-me’.”
I glare.
“’Ravish-me?’” she suggests, teasing. I keep glaring. “‘Kiss-me-chastely-on-the-front porch-at-an-angle-that-makes-my-ass-look-amazing?’”
“OK, that one I can work with,” I agree with a laugh.
We pack up,and stroll the town square. There are a ton of cute stores, but on closer examination, it’s clear, they’re not exactly the place for a hot date outfit. “What do you think?” Brooke asks, teasing, as she holds up a baggy linen kaftan. The little boutique is full of them, plus an assortment of straw hats, wide-legged garden pants, and all the turquoise jewelry a woman of a certain age could want.
“Cool,” I reply, browsing the tunic stand. “As in, breezy.”
Brooke holds it up to her body. “I can’t wait until I can wear stuff like this, and just waft around like I’m in a Nancy Meyers movie. Baking croissants at my incredible beach house, and having happy hours with my fabulous friends. While fancy galleries fight to exhibit my incredible photography…”
I smile. “Save a croissant for me. How’s business, anyway? Are you still working on that series, about the local veterans?”
Brooke makes a face. “It’s kind of on hold at the moment, I’ve been so busy with my day job, and helping out Tate, he’s under so much stress right now.”
Tate. I try not to scowl.
“But the board exams will be over soon,” Brooke adds. “And he thinks he’s in for a shot at a great fellowship at the Mayo Clinic.”
My head snaps around. “Isn’t that in Missouri?”
“Minnesota.”
“Even colder! Do you even want to move there?” I ask, alarmed. “You’re just getting your photography business off the ground.”
“I know, but I can take pictures anywhere, and the Mayo is a once in a lifetime opportunity,” she says, and it’s clear she’s parroting Tate’s words.
I force myself to turn back to the caftans. I can’t say anything, not even about her uprooting her life for a man who won’t even put a ring on it after five years.
She wouldn’t listen, anyway. My beautiful, smart, loyal cousin is head-over-heels for that smug asshole, and there’s nothing I can do– until the day she finally wakes up and realizes that he doesn’t deserve another moment of her time.
I’m just hoping she still has a few viable eggs left in her ovaries when that happens.
“What about this one?” I say instead, holding up a light linen tunic. “I know it’s supposed to be a top, but I could belt it, wear it as a dress with some amazing platform sandals…”
“Didn’t Quinn say girl-next-door?”
“Good point.” I decide to buy the tunic all the same– and one for Brooke, too. “May as well get our wafting eras started,” I declare, as we emerge back into the sunshine again.
“Does that mean it’s time for a croissant?” Brooke grins.
“It’s always time for a croissant.”
We’re crossing the street when I see him exiting the hardware store.
Duke.
I stop dead – and Brooke bumps me from behind. “What?” she asks, then follows my gaze. “Is that him?” she whispers excitedly. “Well! Now some things are making way more sense. But maybe let’s not die in traffic for the man?”
She tows me over to the sidewalk, as Duke approaches. “Hey there,” he says, raking a hand through his hair. He’s still got his unshaven, scruffy look going on, dressed in his work uniform of a plain T-shirt and beat-up jeans. But is it just me, or does he look…
Brawnier.
Confident.
Hot.
“Hi.” I swallow, feeling strangely self-conscious. I’ve been happily bickering with the man all week, but now, everything feels off-kilter, like the world has shifted just a couple of degrees.
I know the way he tastes.
Luckily, Brooke doesn’t skip a beat, introducing herself and making small talk about the town while I try to engage my vocal cords again.
And not think about Duke’s hands gripping my waist, the heat of his body pressed hard against me…
“So, what’s the plan tonight?” Brooke asks cheerfully. “I hear you’ve got a hot date on the books.”
Duke gives a wry chuckle. “Did you get Quinn’s memo, too?” he asks me. “Because she sent me all kinds of friendly ‘suggestions’ about my performance the other night.”
“But you were great!” I blurt. “I mean, the date was. With you. I have no notes. On your… performance.”
Just stop.
Duke looks confused by my babbling, and I don’t blame him. “Well, thanks. I made us a reservation for tonight at a place up the coast. This new French restaurant, it’s supposed to be the best around.”
“It doesn’t have to be anything fancy,” I say quickly. “We can just grab a drink here in town.”
“Now, what kind of fake boyfriend would I be if I didn’t show you a good time?”
Duke gives me a crooked smile, and just like that, I’m right back in steamy fantasyland again.
More than kissing… fewer clothes… a locked door?—
Brooke elbows me.
I cough, flustered. “Right. Sure! I’ll, um, see you later then.”
“Pick you up at seven? Good meeting you, Brooke,” Duke adds, before strolling off, tall and sturdy in the sunlight.
“Oh, this is going to be fun.”
I turn. Brooke is grinning at me, delighted. “No. Absolutely not.” I wag my finger at her. “It’s just the low bar of mankind, remember?”
She just beams. “C’mon, let’s find you something hot to wear, for this ”good time’.”
“With my fake boyfriend,” I correct her, even as she loops her arm through mine and drags me away. “Fake, he said it so himself!”