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I heard him mutter “bitch” as I made my way toward a familiar face and asked if I could grab a ride home.

“Sure thing,” Howard Shores replied, adding, “Thanks for the sofa, by the way.”

In the cloud hanging over my mere existence, I hadn’t even noticed it was gone. Of course, asking my grandmother’s lover for a ride home only demonstrated how desperate I was to get as far away from my current date as possible, so I couldn’t say much. I only hoped he didn’t want to discuss it further on the way to the house. I wasn’t sure I could take much more nonsense today. Luckily, he was content to discuss the daffodils she had planted in his garden. He invited me by to see them anytime I wanted, and I politely thanked him, with no intention whatsoever of going near his house.

I called Derrick the moment I was back home to tell him how it went, since he was the one who’d fixed me up.

“Oh, Rain. I am so sorry. I had no idea he was such a troll. I’ll make it up to you. I’m off work tonight. I’ll take you to a movie. How would that be?”

“No. That’s OK. I’ll be just fine.”

“Come on. Let me make it up to you.”

“All right. I could probably stand a night out with someone sane.”

“I don’t know about sane, but I won’t bore you with ex-wife drama.”

“Already my kind of date. If only you didn’t prefer a more masculine sort.”

“What can you do? I was born this way, honey. I’ll pick you up at six.”

Going to a movie involved driving to Moseley, since the only theater in town had closed years ago. It now operated as a playhouse for local theater groups who liked to pretend they were Broadway material when they were more like actors from The Room. Even the cinema in Moseley wasn’t exactly modern. It had four screens, and they usually showed movies that were on the verge of being out on DVD.

Still, it was cheap, and the popcorn was buttery. What else did you need? Oh. Skittles. You always needed Skittles, but just as we had done in our teenage years, we stopped by the dollar store down the street and bought those to tuck in my purse. The days were long gone when either of us needed to save the minor difference in what they cost there and at the theater, but it was just naughty to sneak cheap food in. It was a rite of passage.

The following day I went to a bake sale with Becky, who introduced me to a bunch of men who could cook. The bake sale had long featured men, a tradition that had started with barbecue competitions and expanded to baked goods to better compete with the women. She suggested I select one based on who had the best food at their table, and I took her up on the challenge of choosing a man who knew the way to a woman’s heart was through chocolate, flirting with a guy who made the most divine truffles I’d ever tasted in my life. His name was Ned, not exactly sexy. He wasn’t the most handsome guy on the planet. He was what Grandma would have called “lanky.” He was like a reed bending against the wind, easily six-six, and no way he was more than a hundred fifty pounds. His hair was defiantly black, and his eyes were only a shade lighter, so deeply brown they were almost black.

“I make a mean chocolate martini, as well,” he told me.

“Really? Do you have one of those back there?” I asked, rising on my tiptoes as if to look over the table.

“No, but if you want to stop by my place later, I could make you one.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” I said, backtracking a little at the thought of going to his house alone without knowing him better.

“I’m harmless. I promise,” he laughed.

“OK. Why not?” I told him, feeling bold despite Beau’s admonishments not to give the wrong impression to anyone.

He did seem harmless, and I was desperate to find someone willing to spend enough time with me to at least give the appearance that I was in a stable relationship, perhaps even on my way to marrying and making this my home again. He gave me his address, and I turned up promptly at seven, dressed in modest jeans and a cotton pullover so I didn’t give him too many ideas about me accepting his offer. As it turned out, it didn’t matter, as I was met at the door by a middle-aged woman who seemed more than thrilled to see me.

“Oh, you must be Rain. Ned told me you would be coming by. I’m his mother, but don’t worry. I’ve already had my dinner and will be in my room to give you kids some privacy.”


Tags: Aubrey Wright Romance