I let out a breath. Goddess or no goddess, I didn’t care; it was the pact that mattered to me—and meeting the man of my dreams. “I agree to the pact.”
“I agree to the pact, too,” Marissa said at length.
Paige held her chin high, a strange look on her face—perhaps triumph? Or solemnity? Or a combination of both. “Then, it is set.”
There was a sudden flash of lightning followed immediately by a loud crash of thunder. Marissa and I leaped a good four feet back from one another. Marissa fell on her butt, narrowly avoiding the fire. I stumbled but managed to right myself.
“What the heck was that?” Marissa exclaimed, pushing herself off the ground and brushing the sand off her jeans.
“Whatever it was, it scared the living daylights out of me.” I let out a short, sharp laugh, my heart pounding in my chest.
Paige remained standing stock still, a look of pure exhilaration on her pretty face as the wind whipped her hair and made her skirt billow around her. She looked like something out of Game of Thrones. “That, my friends, was the sealing of the pact. There’s no going back now.”
The sealing of the pact? I looked at her, wide-eyed, half expecting her to regale us with some lame ghost story, a flashlight illuminating her face in a prepubescent attempt to freak us out.
“Actually, I think it was that storm we’re expecting,” Marissa replied in her pragmatic way. She leaned down and scooped the picnic blanket and the empty bottle and glasses up. “We might need to take cover, girls.”
I looked up and scanned the dark night sky, shivering as the evening turned cold. A large blob of rain landed on my face. I blinked. Within a heartbeat, the heavens opened and the rain came pouring down on us. I pulled my hoodie up and made a dash for shelter, followed closely by a loudly protesting Marissa.
“No way am I getting wet,” she exclaimed, pulling her own hood up as protection from the elements.
“Wait! We haven’t finished!” Paige called out to us both, her voice thin through the growing storm. “Come on, you two. We have to do this right.”
I paused to squint back at her. She hadn’t moved from her spot by the dying fire. I glanced up at the house, the windows glowing with light. I let out a sigh. Warmth and dry clothes were so, so close. “Marissa! Let’s finish this off, then get back to the house, okay?” I called out.
“Have you seen what happens to my hair in the rain?” she called back.
“I’ll sort it out for you, I promise.” I clambered up the beach and grabbed her arm, pulling her back with me. She muttered something about hair straighteners and ice cream under her breath.
Once back by the smoking fire, Paige extended her now wet arm toward us once more.
“Make it quick,” Marissa warned.
We resumed our positions.
Another flash of lightning illuminated the beach as the waves crashed with force against the shore. When the thunder hit, my heart leaped into my mouth. This was like something out of a movie!
Paige continued in her Hammer House of Horrors voice, louder this time to be heard over the lashing wind and rain. “From this day forth, we, the maidens of the beach, have just One Last First Date.” She paused between each word, piercing us with her intense gaze.
“One last first date?” I questioned, panic inching its way up from my toes. In my bid to find Mr. Right, I’d been on so many dates I’d totally lost count. Having only one more really put the pressure on. It was going to have to be with the perfect guy. I swallowed.
“That’s right,” Paige replied, looking at me intently. “One Last First Date. We’ve got one shot at this, ladies.”
“Agreed,” Marissa said quickly, possibly more to get out of the rain and save her hair from the dreaded frizz than for any real desire to agree to Paige’s terms.
I chewed the inside of my mouth and glanced at both of my friends. One last first date meant whoever I next dated would end up being my husband. Either that or I’d become celibate, adopt seventeen cats, take to wearing ill-fitting mismatched clothes, and possibly smell a little funky to boot.
I chose dating.
“Cassie, come on!” Marissa urged, the rain still blobbing heavily down on us.
“Agreed,” I added as a surge of nerves, excitement—and hope—rose in my chest.
One Last First Date it was.
*
You can order One Last First Date here
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Acknowledgements
As with any publication, there is a raft of people I need to thank for helping me. First and foremost, I would like to thank my editor, Julie Crengle, who never fails to spot my little hiccups and is always very complimentary about my stories to the point where it’s hard to get my head through the door some days. Not that I’m complaining.
I would also like to thank Amy Gettinger, who did a final edit prior to publication. As a former English teacher, her hawk eye misses nothing! Thanks also to my beta readers Nicky Willis, Leanne Mackay, and fellow chick-lit author Geralyn Corcillo, for their invaluable advice. If you, dear reader, thought there was too much poop in this story, you should have seen it before this group of gals got their hands on it. As Geralyn very wisely put it, romance and poop just don’t mix. And that is a very good thing. Hopefully I hit the right balance in the final product.
And finally, thanks, as ever, to my endlessly supportive husband and my darling son. You two are my rock.
About the Author
I am an award-nominated author of fun, feel-good romantic comedies. I live and love in beautiful New Zealand with my family, two scruffy dogs, and a cat who thinks he's a scruffy dog, too. He's not: he's a cat. My books include the Wellywood Romantic Comedy Series: Wedding Bubbles, Styling Wellywood, Miss Perfect Meets Her Match, and Falling for Grace, and the Cozy Cottage Café Series: One Last First Date, Two Last First Dates, and Three Last First Dates plus a holiday novella, I'm Scheming of a White Christmas. All my books are available from Amazon.
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