by Score, Lucy
I was warm, comfortable, and extremely well-rested. And apparently accommodating.
“Okay. Five more minutes,” I conceded. “And then tonight you’re taking me out on a practice date.”
“Cool,” he said, his mouth moving against my hair.
We both heard the grumble from the back door.
“Damn dog,” Jake groaned. “Why can’t he learn to let himself out?”
I yawned and pried my way out of his embrace. Fake or not, this was not a bad way to start the day.
37
Jake
I stared at the front door before me and rolled my shoulders. “No big deal. Just picking your girl up for a date,” I muttered under my breath. I’d followed Marley’s instructions to a tee and even gone a step farther. I had not one, but two bouquets of flowers since my girlfriend lived at home with her parents.
I stabbed the doorbell and let out a long, slow breath. It was embarrassing that I was nervous. I’d gone on dates before. Real ones. I could totally do this. Marley wasn’t here to judge me. She was here to teach me. And I was a willing student.
The door opened, and I found myself staring up at a very tall, very broad black man. He was wearing a suit with a bow tie and tortoise shell glasses.
“Uhh…” Instinctively, my gaze slid to the house number and then to the next-door neighbor’s house. Yep, monstrosity of a mansion with a swan. I was at the right place. “Hi, is Marley in?” I asked.
“You must be Jake.” His voice boomed, and I could feel the sound waves in my bone marrow.
“I am.”
“Are those for me?” Bow Tie demanded, checking out my flowers.
“Uhh—”
“Hey, Jake.” A breathless Marley in jeans and a cute button-down appeared next to the giant paragon of fashion. “This is Dietrich,” she said.
“Dietrich. Nice to meet you.”
“We’ll see. What are your intentions toward Marley?” he asked.
“Well, um. Mostly honorable.”
Dietrich’s pearly white smile blinded me. “I’m just messing with you, man. Come on in.”
Relief coursed through me, and I crossed the threshold into Marley’s childhood home.
“Thanks for getting the door, D,” Marley said.
“Anything for you, cupcake.” He shot her the pistol fingers and bounded up the stairs three at a time with the grace of an NFL receiver.
“What the fuck was that?” I breathed.
She laughed. “I’m sorry. Little prank. He’s my parents’ Airbnb guest for the week. He’s in Lancaster for business and wanted a homier atmosphere than a hotel.”
“He scared the hell out of me.”
“Yeah, he did.” She grinned, and I found that I really liked it when she did that.
“Here,” I said, shoving the flowers at her.
She cleared her throat and gestured at her outfit. “Don’t forget your Dating 101 notes.”
“Oh, right.” I took a moment to give her an appreciative look. I was really into button-down shirts. There was nothing I looked forward to more in this world than undoing that long line of buttons to reveal the treasures beneath. This was a girly flannel, which checked another box for me. “You look gorgeous, pretty girl.”
“Nice delivery,” Marley said, accepting the flowers.
“And these are for your mom,” I said, brandishing the other bouquet.
“Wow. Someone’s going for extra credit,” she said.
“Is that Jake?” a woman called from the back of the house.
“Yeah, he’s here to sweep me off my feet and hopefully feed me,” Marley called back.
“Don’t let him leave!”
There was something that sounded like a scuffle, and then Marley’s parents both appeared in the hallway. They got tangled up in their rush to get to us. Her dad tripped and knocked a family photo off the wall, but he recovered quickly.
“Jake, so nice to see you again.” Jessica Cicero and I had crossed paths every once in a while on in-service days when she was still teaching. She was a looker. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a perky ponytail, and her smile reached her bright blue eyes. She held out a hand, and I shook it.
“It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Cicero,” I said, holding out the flowers. “These are for you.”
“Oh, my! They’re just beautiful,” she said, sending Marley a what-a-doll look. “And please call me Jessica.”
“I’m Ned,” the man in the canary yellow polo and silvery mustache said, extending his hand. His voice was unusually high.
“Ned, good to meet you.” I shook and let him win the grip war. It was a perfunctory introduction. We’d all known of each other for years. Had probably exchanged pleasantries in the grocery store produce aisle or when one of us was backing out of a parking space as the other one waited patiently. It was Culpepper. Everyone knew everyone.
“Did you bring me anything?” Ned asked, looking hopefully at Marley and Jessica’s flowers.
“Uh, no, sir.”
“Strike one!” he screeched. He put his thumbs into the waistband of his Dockers and yanked them up as if spoiling for a fight.
“Dad, don’t tease him. I already had Dietrich open the door and demand his intentions,” Marley said.
“Ooh! That’s a good one,” Ned said, giving his daughter the double thumbs-up.
* * *
“So where are you taking me, Mr. Boyfriend?” Marley asked as I held the passenger door open for her.
“Okay, so check this out. We’re going to Smitty’s for dinner and drinks. Keeping it light, casual, and public.”
I caught her wince.
“What? Is that a bad first date?”
She shook her head. “No. Sorry. That’s just my kneejerk reaction to socializing in Culpepper. It’s a good, solid first date plan for a future girlfriend.”
Smitty’s was always busy on Saturday nights, but I wrangled a small table in front of the window overlooking Main Street. Marley hopped up on the stool, putting her back to the room, and opened the menu.
“So? How am I doing so far?” I asked, taking the seat across from her.
“You picked me up, were nice to my parents, complimented me on my outfit, brought my mom and me flowers, and didn’t run screaming from Dietrich. I’d say you’re nailing this date.”
“When you say nailing—”
She smacked me over the head with her menu. “Funny guy.”
I picked up my own menu and browsed. I wasn’t a “same thing every night” kind of guy. Mixing it up was more fun to me than consistency. One night it was hot wings. Another night it was beef and broccoli. Sometimes, for the hell of it, I went for a salad or threw caution to the wind and ordered the greasiest pizza I could find.
Marley was looking around us at the Saturday night crowd. Tentatively, she raised her hand at someone across the bar and smiled awkwardly. Then looked away just as quickly.
“This is weird. I actually know half of these people,” she whispered, picking up her menu and hiding her face.
“Welcome to small-town America.”
“You know, there’s something to be said for being a stranger to everyone,” she said, dropping the menu again.
“You’re nervous.”
“I’m not nervous. I just feel…exposed.”
“Why?” I was intrigued.
“Because most of these people remember my horrible, awkward, humiliating teenage years.”
“What was so horrible, awkward, and humiliating about your high school career?” I wondered.
She gave me a long look. “Homecoming our senior year? Does that ring any bells?”
“I think I remember Homecoming differently than you do. I remember a scrappy senior who had been pushed around one too many times and took things into her own hands by—”
Leaning across the table, she slapped a hand over my mouth.
“You know what? That’s not first date conversation. Make some small talk.” She removed her hand.
Women were strange. Pretty, smooth, fascinating, and strange.
“How ’bout them Steelers?” I asked cheerfully. Marley rolled her eyes.
“Hey, guys.” A waitress materialized next to the table. “Can I get you something to drink?”
We ordered beers, and I threw in an appetizer request for a basket of onion rings. When she left, Marley carefully avoided making eye contact with me and everyone else in the place.
I covered her hand with mine. “Look, for what it’s worth, I’m sorry if I did something that hurt you in high school.”
She looked at me like words were clawing their way out of her throat. But she reined it in, kept a lid on it. “We all did incredibly stupid things in high school,” she said quietly.
“Okay.” I waited. She stared at her menu for a solid minute.
“So, on a first date,” she finally said, “you want to focus on getting your date to talk about herself and file as much of the information away as possible. You can tell a lot about a person by how they talk about themselves.”
“So, Marley. Tell me about yourself. If you won the lottery, what would you do with the money?”
She laughed approvingly. “Nice question.”
I tipped my head all princely like.
“I’d pay off my mountain of debt,” she decided.
“Student loans?” I asked with a frown.
She shook her head. “It’s embarrassing. My last job was a start-up that offered buy-in options. I could be a partner in the business, and I liked the idea of that. I dipped into my savings, then drained it trying to ride to the rescue. Before I knew it, my savings were gone, and so was my job. The company folded, and I had to take out a personal loan just to cover expenses.”
Our beers arrived, and we clinked bottles.
“That sucks,” I told her. “Say your debt is magically gone. What’s the most frivolous thing you’d spend your lottery winnings on?”
She took a long pull on her beer and closed her eyes. “I always wanted to road-trip across the country. Stop and see all the biggest balls of twine. Live off of beef jerky and convenience store snacks.”
“Road trips aren’t lottery expensive,” I pointed out.
“No, but taking the time off from work is. I’ve never had a job with more than two weeks’ paid vacation. And most of that got sucked up by holidays.”
“You’re a teacher now. That gives you the entire summer for your beef-jerky fueled adventure.”
“I’m a teacher until Christmas. Then it’s hasta la vista, Culpepper.”
“What do you want to do after?” I asked, leaning in, not really loving the idea of her packing up and moving on again.
She shrugged. “I have no idea. Nothing’s ever been a good fit.”
The V in her flannel kept drawing my eyes. I liked seeing that long line of her throat, the subtle curve of her breast when the shirt gaped open.
“Hey, no cleavage staring on the first date, buddy. Eye contact only,” she said.
I snapped out of my hypnotic state.
“Sorry. Old habits.”
“What would you do if you won the lottery?” she asked.
“That’s easy. I’d buy Homer a diamond-encrusted collar.”
38
Jake
This dating deal wasn’t half bad. Mars and I ate our way through the standard getting-to-know-you practice questions. Either I was totally nailing the charming and delightful thing or she was an excellent faker.
We dealt with the attention from curious onlookers by pretending not to notice it. I understood the interest. Though a Culpepper native, Mars was technically new in town and creating a stir. And then there was me, the perma-bachelor who allegedly took one look at grown-up Marley Cicero and decided to change his wild ways.
I snagged the check off the table while Marley boxed up her leftovers. “What should we do for dessert?” I asked wolfishly.
She raised an eyebrow at me. “Why do I think you’re not talking about ice cream?”
I leaned in flirtatiously. “Why, Ms. Cicero, are you coming on to me?”
She mirrored my move and rested her elbows on the table. “In your dreams.”
“Well, seeing as how we already slept together, my dreams are your dreams,” I pointed out.
She slapped a hand over my mouth and glanced around. Culpepper had sensitive ears and big mouths everywhere.
I nipped at her palm with my teeth, and she narrowed her eyes. “You’re bad news, Weston.”
“Don’t I know it,” I said, pulling her hand away from my mouth and holding it.
“Oh, shit,” she breathed.
But she wasn’t reacting to my expert level flirting. She was looking over my shoulder.
“What’s the problem?” I asked, twisting on my seat to see who was stealing my thunder here.
Amie Jo Hostetter, in icepick heels and fashion-forward baby blue sweatpants that probably cost more than my property taxes this month, strutted in. Her hair was big. Her makeup was troweled on. And she had a hand wrapped around her husband’s wrist.
He glanced our way, and I saw the second he recognized Marley.
“Figures he’d age well,” she muttered pretending to be enthralled with the table top.
“That the type you usually go for?” I didn’t much care for that. Travis was a clean-shaven, ironed-clothes kind of guy. He got his hair cut every three weeks and spent a small fortune on hair products and custom-tailored Oxford shirts to fit his narrow frame. His only hobby was golf. Talk about a snooze fest.
High school me would have—and probably had—referred to him as a pretty boy. He was soft and smooth. Nice guy, but a schmoozer. And I couldn’t imagine someone like Marley ending up with someone like him. She’d be bored to tears within a week.
“Are you forgetting the fact that I dumped him in high school for you?” she hissed.
“You did not,” I argued. “You broke up with him because you were bored to death.”
“Just shut up and stop looking at him—them. Oh, God. Here they come. They’re coming over!”
I squeezed her hand. “Chill out. You’re here with me, your boyfriend, remember?”
She straightened. “Right. Okay. Good. I forgot.”
She forgot she was dating me. That was a kick to the ol’ ego.
“Well, don’t you two look cozy?” Amie Jo cooed. She reeled Travis in and tucked herself under his arm, painting a picture of a happy couple right in front of us.
“Hey there, Hostetters,” I said, giving Marley’s hand a hard squeeze.
She snapped out of the deer in headlights expression and pasted on a smile as phony as Amie Jo’s tone.
“Travis, you remember Marley from high school, right?” his wife asked. Judging by his expression, he definitely remembered.
“It’s good to see you again, Marley,” he said pleasantly. “I heard you were back in town.”
“Uh. Hi. Yeah, I’m back for a little while,” she said, the words coming out in a rush. “I, um, I like your swan.”
I shot her a WTF look, and her eyeballs went half-dollar sized.
“Isn’t he just divine?” Amie Jo asked, laying a possessive hand on Travis’s stomach. “I saw Lady Gaga had swans at her Hamptons estate and just had to have one. Travis made it happen. He spoils me! Isn’t that right, sweetie?”
“Aren’t swans supposed to have a mate?” Marley asked suddenly. “I mean, don’t they get lonely when there’s just one of them?”
I slid off my stool and pulled Marley to her feet. “Well, we’ll leave you two to your dinner. We’ve got some private dessert plans,” I said with a suggestive eyebrow wiggle. “Great seeing you, Travis.”
Pulling Marley behind me, I wove my way through the high-top tables to the front door. In seconds, we were outside, and Marley breathed a sigh of relief.
“I like your swan?” I said when we were halfway down the block.
She covered her face with her hands. “Oh my God. I really said
it? I didn’t know what to say to him! I haven’t seen him since high school graduation. He didn’t speak to me after Homecoming. After that whole broken leg thing.”
“Are you still into him?”
“No! I don’t know! I don’t think so. I broke up with him, remember?”
“Yeah, and one look at him at Smitty’s, and you’re wondering if you’d be in Amie Jo’s shoes if you hadn’t dumped his ass.” I didn’t like that it annoyed me.
“I’d never wear those shoes,” she quipped. “I’d spend more time falling down than walking.”
“Be honest. You didn’t see those two together and wonder?”
“Isn’t that natural?” she dodged the question.
I slid my arm around her shoulders and guided her toward my SUV.
“How the hell should I know?”
“Haven’t you ever run into an ex-sex partner and wondered what it would be like if you were still with them?”
“Nope.”
“God, this is why I never showed my face in town after graduation,” Marley complained. “It’s like holding up a mirror to every single mistake I ever made.”
“Like breaking up with Travis?”
“You sound mad,” she said, looking up at me with a frown.
“Mad? Ha. I’m not mad.” I was totally mad. Illogically mad.
“Annoyed? Irked? Filled with rage?”
“Are you supposed to make a guy feel like second fiddle on a first date?” I asked.
She opened her mouth and then closed it. “Ouch.”
“Yeah, ouch.”
She winced. “Okay. That’s fair. If this were a real date, I’d definitely owe you an apology.”
“Why don’t you demonstrate one for me right now so I’ll know the real thing when it comes along?” We were in front of the library, a squat, yellow brick building that also housed the police department. My car was just a few spots down, but I pulled her to a stop.
“Fine. Jake?”
“Yes?”
“I’m sorry for making you feel like second fiddle. It wasn’t my intention, and I was just kind of shocked to see him tonight. I wasn’t mentally prepared to face the past when I was having such a good time with you, and I’m sorry.”
