“Maybe we can head to Timmie’s and get a double-double to go with our beaver tails?” Wes says. “You haven’t lived until you tasted a double-double Timmie’s.” He shoves a hand into his shorts pocket, and roots around. “I think I have a couple of loonies and toonies in my pocket,” he adds speaking faster as he throws around our Canadian slang. “Maybe we can even get a two-four on the way home.”
“Who is Timmy, and what is a double-double?” Rider asks. “And can you slow down, I can hardly understand what you’re saying.”
Jules scrunches her nose. “And what’s a two-four?”
“We’ll show you,” I say, enjoying our shared joke far too much, and I hate to admit it, but Wes is a lot of fun. Seriously though, letting Americans think we eat the beavers’ tails never gets old.
“As long as I don’t have to eat a beaver or anyone named Timmie,” Jules says. “I’m all about experiencing Canada, but I draw the line at that. It’s just—”
“Delicious,” I blurt out.
She shakes her head at me. “No, Charlie. It’s weird. Just weird.”
Laughing, I tug Jules along and we cross the street. We pass by a few high-end shops and she stops to gaze at the fancy dresses. I think the last time I wore a dress was to my graduation. While I don’t mind dressing up, since every now and then it’s fun, I much prefer my comfy clothes.
Jules gasps and points to a dress. “That one would look amazing on you, Charlie.”
I examine the sexy black cocktail dress and picture myself in it. “You think?”
“You have the perfect body for it.”
“Maybe I could wear it.”
She laughs. “Surely you must go out to a nice dinner every now and then.”
“Every now and then,” I say. “There are a couple of great restaurants here in the city that I can recommend if you and Rider decide to go.”
“You’ll come with us.” It’s a statement, not a question.
“I don’t know about that,” I say. “I don’t want to be a third wheel.”
“You wouldn’t be. Wes is the third wheel.” She winks at me playfully. “It’d be fun to go on a double date.”
“I’m not going on a date with Wes.”
“You don’t think he’s a good catch?” she asks.
“A good catch is four hundred full lobster traps a day,” I tease, my gaze sliding to Wes, to his perfect ass in his khakis, to be precise.
She laughs and wanting a change of topic, I drag her along to the boardwalk where all the small vendors are set up. I wave my hand at the big red building sporting the sign, Beaver Tails.
“The best artisanal pastry around.” I point to the Tim Horton’s kiosk. “That’s Timmie’s, best coffee around, and a double-double is double cream, double sugar. It’s the only way to get your coffee.”
Jules folds her arms. “I can’t believe you let me believe you ate beavers’ tails! I thought Canadians were nice.”
I laugh. “Wearenice. I promise.”
She gives me a doubtful glare and Wes laughs. “Don’t blame her. She was just playing along, and for the record, a hoser is a polite term used by Canadians to say someone is clueless.” Wes claps his hand on his buddy’s shoulder. “We were just messing with you guys, and a two-four is a twenty-four pack of beer, which I’ll buy, since you two are such good sports.”
Rider just shakes his head and I nudge Wes, but the second I do, need zings through me. I swallow, but the truth is I love this comradery between us. “What is this I hear about you knitting, huh?”
He puts his finger to his lips. “Shh, that’s a secret, but if you want, I can hook you up with a toque. I might have an extra one or two laying around.”
Picturing this muscular guy sitting by a winter’s fire with knitting needles in his hands brings a laugh to my lips. It also warms me in the oddest ways, because it’s actually kind of sexy…and freaking adorable.
I blink up at him, curious, wanting to know more about his life. “Who taught you?”
“Are we still talking about this?” he asks.