Ensley was calm enough now to venture into the light. She picked up her computer bag and purse and hauled them to the eat-in chef’s kitchen, which was hot as a whore’s doorknob on nickel night. She managed a smile. That was one of Randy’s favorite sayings, along with sweating like a whore in church. Thinking about him reminded her that his birthday was in two weeks, and she never missed FaceTiming with him.
She switched on the ceiling fan and stood beneath it while the blades dispersed the cold air blowing from the ceiling vents. Then she remembered what Barb just said.
“Wait a minute. Did you say a date?”
“I did.”
“Does that mean my cousin George got the message and asked you out?”
Barb’s face lit up. “Yep, he did, and you could have picked me up off the floor.”
Ensley dropped her purse and computer bag on the counter before finding a water glass and filling it from the tap. At least she could be happy for her best friend. And it truly did make her happy. Barb had wanted a date with George ever since she recovered from breaking up with the asshat who cheated on her.
“What’d you say to him?” Barb asked.
Ensley gulped water before she answered. “Nothing. You told me not to.” She set down the phone and opened the wine cooler to find two bottles—a chardonnay and a sauvignon blanc. She grabbed the Montgomery Winery chardonnay.
“Hey, I can’t see you. Prop up the phone,” Barb said. “The ceiling fan blades are making me dizzy.”
Ensley leaned over the counter so Barb could see her face. “Until last night, George and I hadn’t talked in weeks. I guess he finally picked up on all the hints you’ve been dropping.”
“Maybe your old flame Wyatt talked to him.”
“God, I’m glad that fire burned out.” Ensley filled the empty water glass with wine. “I haven’t talked to Wyatt in eight months, and I hope I never have to talk to him again. He’s a frigging sports nut. Nothing comes between him and a basketball or football game. I could have handled the games if he’d only been willing to do something I wanted to do once in a while.”
“He isn’t into your high-adrenaline activities. Next time you meet a guy, find out right off the bat if he’d rather be a participant or an observer. Wyatt is happiest drinking beer with his buddies and betting on games.”
Ensley carried her wine over to the kitchen table, where she leaned the phone against the empty bowl she used to keep full of fruit when she lived here. “It was easier to put up with him than to break up and jump back into the dating pool.”
“Wyatt was light-years outside your dating pool. Why don’t you ask George to fix you up? At least he knows what kind of guy you’re looking for.”
“We’re meeting for dinner in about an hour. I’ll ask him.”
Barb’s jaw dropped. “He’s in Cambridge?”
Ensley flopped down into a chair and adjusted the phone a bit so she could see Barb’s face better. “Don’t get your panties in a wad. He’ll be back in the city in time for your date.”
“He better come back. He got reservations at The Polo Bar.”
“Holy cow!” Ensley sat bolt upright. “How’d he do that? I want to go. That restaurant is supposed to have the best ambiance in New York City.” Ensley wasn’t the jealous type, but she had to admit a dinner date at The Polo Bar was droolworthy.
“I’ll let you know. I plan to order pigs in a blanket and take in the ambiance.”
“Sounds like you’re more excited about where you’re going than who you’re going with.”
“George could take me to his local pub, and I’d be just as excited. But I’m extra-impressed that he’s taking me to The Polo Bar.”
Ensley relaxed a bit, but the loss of her job lay heavy on her disappointed heart. “Well, my cousin’s a classy dude.” And he was. All her cousins were classy guys, but George was the only one still single.
“So, what kind of guy are you going to tell George to hook you up with?”
“All his friends are in finance, and I find them boring.”
“I’m in finance, and you don’t think I’m boring.”
“I’m not dating you, and besides, we rarely talk about work.”
“You want a man who can cook and discuss literature, but I’m going to tell George to fix you up with a six-five athlete from his gym who squeaked through an SEC school.”
Ensley rolled her eyes. “I’m going to get a puppy instead.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Miniature Goldendoodles are so cute, but I wouldn’t want to leave a puppy alone all day.”
“Then it’s a guy you’re looking for.”
“I don’t want one more than a foot taller than I am. Hugging a guy when you only reach his navel is sort of disgusting. And as far as schools in the Southeastern Conference, I’m working with two talented authors from the South. One went to Vanderbilt, the other to Ole Miss.”
“Ole Miss is one of the top twenty party schools in the nation.”
Ensley sipped her wine. “Inquiring minds want to know where you heard that.”
Barb laughed. “You don’t care anything about sports, do you? If you did, you’d know that tailgating before a football game in Ole Miss’s Grove tops the list of the ten coolest college football experiences.”
“And you know that be…cause…?” Ensley dragged out the word.
“Because,” Barb said, “unlike you, I enjoy college football and basketball.”
“Then you should date Wyatt.”
“No way! But don’t be such a snob. You might find a manuscript from an athlete in your slush pile that’s well written and entertaining.”
“I got one recently from an NBA player whose injury ended his professional career, and I passed on it.”
“What’s his name?”
“I can’t tell you,” Ensley said.
“I bet it’s a very uplifting story.”
“Yeah, right. This franchise pays a player millions of dollars to throw a ball into
