“Why do I get the feeling you like picking a fight with me?”
“Ha!” I bark it out. “Don’t flatter yourself. Besides, I’m not picking a fight with you. I’m simply asking you to refrain from the urge of regurgitating my life story. Look, if you want to get lucky with Coital Campbell, you have the blessing of your phony fiancée. Just don’t throw me under the bus to score some booty points with her.”
His mouth opens and closes. “I don’t know how to respond to that. As someone who doles out words by the hour for a living, you have truly rendered me speechless.”
“You’re not the first man I’ve heard that from.”
“Something tells me I won’t be the last.”
Shep and I stare one another down as if it were a showdown at noon. But it’s not noon—it’s evening—and the night air here in Sterling Lake is perfumed with rosemary.
Shep looks caustically handsome in his dark suit and his pale gold tie. His dark hair is slicked back, the stubble on his face trimmed down, and his lips look particularly kissable. About three different women have already given him a double take, and I can’t say I blame them. His lids are hooded and he looks far too dangerous, too delicious to ever be around and it only seems to fuel my rage.
Shep opens the door like a gentleman and the sound of Rosemary Clooney singing “Mambo Italiano” enlivens the atmosphere. The scent of decadently thick, rich, red sauce permeates my senses, and I can practically taste the garlic in the air.
A hard groan evicts from me. “I’ve died and gone to ziti heaven.”
Shep steps in front of me, his warm cologne quickly enticing my senses in a whole other way.
His cool eyes seem to smile over at me all on their own.
“Bowie”—a touch of sadness sweeps over him, but his lips are curved in the right direction—“you look great tonight.”
A part of me wants to shoot off a sassy comeback, but another part of me is busy drinking down his words.
Before I can thank him, a waitress hops before us.
“Shepherd Wexler?” The brunette’s hot pink lips round out. “Twice in one month, go figure!” She pulls him into a hearty embrace before pulling back with a laugh.
It’s Kadie Beaumont wearing a little black dress with a white frilly apron. Her dark hair is neatly pulled back into a low bun, and not only does she look well-polished, she looks bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.
Shep glances my way. “What a surprise, honey.” His lips expand. “I had no idea we’d be running into an old friend tonight.” He shoots me a look that says but I’m guessing you did.
He would be right.
Kadie bucks at the thought. “Well, you’re on a roll because there’s another old friend who I know would love to see you.” She glances to the floor before looking my way as if she felt a twinge of guilt about it. “I’ll get you to a table.”
“There will be four of us,” I’m quick to tell her and she promptly scoops up four menus.
Kadie leads us through the dimly lit restaurant, with its dark hardwood floors and matching rustic looking furniture with a candle dotting each table. But it’s not the candles that have caught my eye; it’s the plates full of extra-large portions of pastas, chicken Parmesan, eggplant, and lasagna with golden brown layers of baked mozzarella cheese on top. My stomach is demanding it. My mouth is salivating. And it takes all of my might to keep my hands from snatching one of those luscious dishes right out from an unsuspecting patron.
Kadie leads us to a round table near the window, and just as Shep holds out a seat for me, the sound of a wailing cry heads in this direction.
We look over in time to see a blonde bouncing her way over as if someone with a hatchet were chasing her.
But then, I’m not that lucky.
Kadie shrugs with delight. “Surprise! It’s Hilly!”
“Hilly,” I say her name with a touch of disdain. I’ve never been one to hide my feelings from my face or my inflection. I can’t help it, and in this case, I don’t mind a bit. But something tells me Hilary won’t take the hint regardless of how many stink eyes or sourpusses I send her.
She presses a hand to her chest as she takes Shep as if he were the exact juicy steak her mouth has been watering for. Okay, fine. That may have been my first thought when I saw him tonight, but it’s perfectly acceptable, considering I’m about to be his wife. Sort of.
“Hilary.” Shep steps over and glides his arm around my waist as if it were as natural as breathing—heavy breathing that I wholeheartedly agree with.
“Bobbie.” She nods my way as her eyes trace out his arm and a faint scowl takes over.
“It’s Bowie.” Shep sheds a brief smile. “So what are you doing here? I thought you mentioned you were still in Maple Grove.”
“I am.” She pauses a moment to glower my way. “But I like to stop by once in a while to spend time with Kadie. She’s too busy during the week with the kids. This way I catch her for a quick drink on her dinner hour and we can catch up. I’m sure Bowie can appreciate how precious a little girl time can be.” Her eyes travel up and down my body with a look of disapproval.
Is there something wrong with the red dress I threw on?
Sure, it was purchased at a thrift shop, but it’s the environmentally sound thing to do these days. I‘m sure that silver lame tinfoil number she’s stretched over her body is not only a fashion disaster, but an ecological one as well.
“I can certainly appreciate a little girl time,” I say a touch too chipper as I spot Tilly and her bartender friend making their way over. “In fact, here comes my right-hand gal now.”
Shepherd leans in.
