Practice makes perfect, p.19
Practice Makes Perfect, page 19
Annie: I had the funniest dream about you last night.
Will: Funny? Hmm. I’d prefer sexy.
Annie: Well, you don’t get to choose. And this one was funny because you and I were in high school together, and I kept failing the same test over and over so you wrote the answers out for me on a piece of paper and gave them to me.
Will: Sounds like something I’d do. Did we get caught?
Annie: Yes. And then we had to spend detention in Harriet’s Bible study.
Will: Yikes.
Annie: Did you ever cheat in high school?
Will: No.
Will: It was sort of hard to cheat in a wolf pack. Our tests consisted of preying on other animals and the best way to lick your coat clean.
Annie: Are you never going to tell me anything about your childhood or teen years?
Will: I was shorter back then…
Annie: You’re impossible.
Will: Thank you :)
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Annie
I twirl a long-stemmed rose between my fingers as I lean against the worktable at the flower shop, but my mind isn’t here. It’s stuck in an alternate world where a sexy, funny, outgoing man is my boyfriend. And then there’s the texts. I know I shouldn’t read too much into them, but those texts have felt meaningful this week. Last night he texted me before bed, just: Good night.
That was it.
It’s so confusing. He says he isn’t relationship material, and then he goes and texts me “Good night.”
I jab the rose into the bouquet I’m assembling and tell myself to get a grip. It doesn’t matter whether he wants a relationship or not. I’m not into him like that. There’s absolutely no feelings stirring up in me. Anything I feel so far is just attraction. I mean who wouldn’t be attracted to Will Griffin? It’s got to be a law of nature or something. Nothing to worry about—but I definitely need to keep my head on straight and remind myself that all the kissing and cuddling and texting is just a part of the process of my transformation.
He’s Fred and I’m Audrey. But in our movie, the credits will roll after my transformation is complete and I’ve found the wholeness I’ve been looking for. Romance subplot, removed. Admittedly, it would be easier to picture this analogy if Will weren’t so freaking hot. I need to draw some wrinkles on his face and strap him in tap shoes and high-wasted trousers. That’ll cure my attraction.
My attention goes to the shop door when the bell rings and a nice-looking man steps inside.
“Hi! Let me know if I can help you with anything,” I say while continuing to mess with the bouquet. I try not to crowd shoppers because no one likes a hovering sales associate.
“Thanks,” says the man and immediately I take note of his voice. It’s a nice voice. And because it caught my attention, I try to discreetly assess him as he wanders around the shop.
Nice light brown hair cropped close to his head but with enough play on the top to style it
A well-groomed beard
Button-down casual dress shirt
Nice jeans
Clearly works out
No wedding ring
He looks up and catches me looking, so I’m forced to say something. “Um, those premade bouquets are half-price.”
“Great,” he says with an easy smile. “Thanks.”
The arrangement I’m working on is missing something. It looks nice and all, but I think it’s lacking a standout element. Something that grabs me and doesn’t let me look away. Something exciting. It’s missing a dangerous black rim around its irises…and wait, I’m not thinking about flowers anymore, am I?
I barely refrain from groaning into my hands. Of course I would be thinking about Will while a handsome (possibly single) man is roaming around my flower shop.
“Hey, could I get your advice on something?” the man asks, approaching me at the worktable.
“Of course! I’d be happy to help.”
He frowns, looking around the shop. “What sort of bouquet is appropriate to buy for a woman who just had a baby?”
Oh.
He’s a dad.
Well, that’s that.
“Actually, for a sister-in-law who just had a baby,” he amends like maybe he saw my face and wanted to clarify.
Things are looking up again.
I walk around the worktable and go to the far corner, where I have a few freshly assembled, colorful flowers. “I think any of these would be perfect. They’re beautiful but not over-the-top.”
“Great.” He leans in and selects one—treating me to a sniff of his cologne. And it is cologne. He definitely owns a fancy bottle of something cinnamonlike and spritzes it once—maybe twice—before he leaves the house.
I think I like it. Or I could like it.
It doesn’t smell anything like…
No! Not finishing that absurd thought. Now is my chance to use a little bit of the newfound confidence I’ve been practicing.
“So are you from around here or just in for a visit?” I say, wondering if this has been an appropriate amount of eye contact.
“I’ve actually just moved to town. Or the town over, to be exact. My family lives around here, and I felt ready to settle down. So I moved my clinic here and bought a house.”
This is starting to feel like a lot of eye contact. Too much. Oh gosh, I need to look away. And please tell me why I never have this issue with Will? With him I never want to look away.
I take his bouquet to the counter to ring it up. “Oh, are you a doctor?”
“Veterinarian,” he says, and that earns another ding, ding, ding sound in my brain because I love animals. Even better—a man who loves animals too. And he’s apparently a family man who is looking to put down roots! My sisters would definitely be giving me a thumbs-up right now and telling me to go for it.
“That’s great news!” I say a little over the top.
“Oh yeah? Do you have any animals?”
“Well…no, but it’s great news for everyone else who does.” He laughs and hands me his credit card. “Brandon Larsdale,” I say, shamelessly reading the name on his credit card out loud.
“No fair. I don’t get to scan your credit card to learn your name.”
I smile up at him, feeling my cheeks turn pink in a way that I really wish they wouldn’t. I think he’s flirting with me now too—and the familiar discomfort of talking to a new guy is settling over me. Must push through. “I’m Annie Walker.”
“Nice to meet you, Annie.” He pauses only briefly as he picks up his bouquet from the counter. “Listen, I realize this is really forward of me, but…you don’t happen to be single, are you?”
My heart trips. Is he about to ask me out? Is this really happening? Do I want it to happen?
Also, what constitutes “single”? If you ask anyone in the town, they would say I’m dating a dangerous-looking bodyguard. But that’s not real, Annie.
“I am single,” I say and then realize my chin is lifted. I promptly level it.
Brandon smiles. “Well, then, would you be interested in going out sometime? I know we just met, and this could come across as super creepy, so no pressure. Also, I’m on Instagram if you want to look me up to make sure I’m legit.”
I should say yes. Say yes, Annie! He’s ticking all the boxes so far, and if I want to get married, I have to go on a date again. But I don’t want to end up on a date with someone who’s only looking to hook up at the end of the night, because no matter how amazing making out with Will has been lately, I’m realizing I’ll never be the first date hookup kind of person. And maybe that’s okay?
Honestly, this could be perfect. I wanted to pursue both paths (one, being dating, and the other, giving in to self-indulgence) in hopes of figuring out which one brings me the peace I’ve been looking for—and it looks like one of those paths is currently illuminated with a blinking sign above it reading Walk This Way.
I decide to throw out the truth to see if this man will be a waste of my time or not.
“I need to be up front with you, Brandon. I’m not looking for anything casual.”
His smile grows. “Me neither, actually.” Brandon reaches into his back pocket to fish out his wallet. “Here,” he says, and then takes out a very official-looking business card with his veterinary clinic’s logo and information on it. “Do you have a pen?”
I hand him one, and he quickly jots down a number on the back. “This is my cell. Text me if you think you’d like to go out. Or if you just want to talk and get to know each other.”
“Okay, I will. Thank you,” I say taking his card and giving him one more smile before he turns, telling me to have a nice day and he hopes we see each other again.
The second he’s out the door, I drop the card on the counter like it’s a poisonous leaf.
“Well,” I say, rubbing the back of my neck as I stare down at the little rectangular card. “This is unexpected.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Annie
Hank’s is lit on Friday nights. The whole town comes out to line dance and drink and socialize. If you’re not at Hank’s on a Friday night, you’re a certified loser. It’s why even I manage to turn up. (And I enjoy being here, so there’s that.)
I’ve done this enough times to know how to manage it, though. Hank’s is one of my comfort spots. Me and my sisters show up a little earlier than most—somewhere around seven, drink a few beers and catch up on our weeks even though we see each other literally every day and know nearly all of each other’s business at all times. But…I guess I have things they don’t know about right now. Why does that send such a thrill through me?
It suddenly makes me wonder if they have things I don’t know about their lives too.
I glance around the table, assessing my sisters with fresh eyes. Sherlock eyes. What are they hiding? On the outside Emily looks normal. Her blonde hair is parted down the middle, tucked neatly behind her ears, curls she created with her wand this morning are brushed out into soft luscious waves. But her strong features, high cheekbones, and knowing eyes remind you that she could kick your butt in a second. Emily is our fierce protector. Although my grandma raised us, at the end of the day, she still felt like a grandma more than a mother figure. But Emily always feels more like a mom than a sister to me. I’ve never known anyone to keep it all together like she does. And in case anyone needs any more convincing that she’s a fierce queen, Emily has taught second grade for nine years with twenty or more children in class each time. Superhero status.
So what is she hiding? I’ve often wondered why she hasn’t married. It’s not for a lack of men trying, but as far as I know, she’s only ever loved one person. Her high school sweetheart. None of us really know what happened there. It was all very hush-hush. One day he was the love of her life, and the next, he was packing up his truck and leaving Rome for good. I remember Emily spending an entire twenty-four hours crying in her room, and then she wiped her tears and never mentioned him again. Didn’t let us mention him either.
And then there’s Madison. Just look at her. A sprite if I’ve ever seen one. A spunky little brunette with a bouncy shoulder-length haircut, wild brown eyes that are always seeking trouble, and a small adorable nose that is all too boopable. Maddie looks like a sugar cookie, yet she’s wild to her core.
But she’s hiding something, I’m convinced. She looks at me and smiles, I smile back. I’m onto you, lady. So what is it? Hates her job? No, wait, that’s not a secret. Madison has always been quick to follow in Emily’s footsteps, even when the rest of us can see it’s clearly wrong for her. Madison also teaches second grade at the same school as Emily, but she complains about her job 90 percent of the time—usually while anger-cooking us something fantastic in the kitchen.
So…Madison, what’s your secret?
“Annie, are you okay?” Emily asks. “Your smile is super creepy.”
I wipe my face blank. “I was thinking about a…movie I just watched.”
“Was it a movie about a serial killer? Because those are the vibes you’re putting out.”
I scoff. “It was clearly not a serial killer’s smile. You guys just don’t know your smiles.”
Amelia suddenly pops over my shoulder and pulls out a chair at the table, slightly out of breath. “Hiya! I’m back from L.A.! Who has a serial killer’s smile?”
“Anna-banana.”
Amelia grins and settles into the chair. “It’s always the quiet ones you have to watch out for.”
With Amelia’s presence comes a spike in my blood pressure, because if Amelia is back in town, that means Will is back too. I’m more confused about that man than ever. He and I have been texting nonstop since he left town a week ago. And the weird part is—I miss him. A lot.
I’m not supposed to miss him. He’s my no-strings-attached practice person. It’s not supposed to be difficult to keep my face forward rather than craning my neck to see if he’s anywhere in this bar.
And then Noah steps up, tosses his keys on the table, bends down to kiss the side of Amelia’s neck in a lingering not-safe-for-work way, and then tells her he’s going to grab them drinks from the bar. Her eyes give him the most I’m-desperately-in-love-with-you look as he walks away, and all of us sisters notice, sharing a knowing smirk. I’ll bet all my money that they leave this bar early tonight.
Amelia notices us giggling like schoolgirls at her expense, and her face turns beet-red. “Stop! All of you. Stop it right now!”
We’re all laughing obnoxiously now as Madison makes over-the-top making-out gestures. Amelia throws her hands over her eyes. “Y’all are so mean. You’re not supposed to point out stuff like that.”
“Hard to miss it when Noah is chomping on your neck like that,” I say, taking a sip of my beer.
Amelia peeks over her hands to flash me a playfully offended face. “You too? My sweet Annie is going to stab me in the back like that?”
I reach over and fix Amelia’s sweater, which is a little askew. “Sorry. Your bodyguard is being a bad influence on me.”
Maddie grins and raises her beer in a toast. “And speak of the devil.” She nods over my shoulder.
My stomach leaps into my throat and tap-dances. I don’t need to turn to realize he’s here. I can feel him. The temperature changes, the air grows thick. (Which shouldn’t be happening because he doesn’t mean anything to me.) Remember, Annie, No Strings Attached! “Oooh, he can sit with us now that he’s off the clock, and he’s dating Annie, right?” Maddie says with way too big a gleam in her eye while air quoting the word dating. Maddie’s hand shoots up in the air, waving frantically. “Will! Your woman is over here!”
“Hush, Maddie! You’re making the whole bar look.”
She flashes a self-satisfied expression that lets me know that was her aim in the first place.
I can’t take it anymore. I peek over my shoulder—just one quick, tiny little glance to the side. But my eyes instantly connect with his, and I shoot my gaze forward again, pulse rushing in my ears. That tiny glance was enough to take in every inch of Will, and it’s making everything worse.
Tonight he’s wearing black jeans, white sneakers, and a denim button-down shirt rolled up over his forearms. His hair is sort of purposefully messy, and he’s wearing a black watch on his tattooed wrist. He looks too good to be real. And now that I know what his skin looks like and feels like under that shirt—the way the lines of his tattoos are subtly raised to add the most delicious texture—my face heats.
“Annie’s been saving your seat!” Madison says unhelpfully, making me sound desperate even though I had no idea he’d be here tonight. I widen my eyes to signal her to cool it, but she just grins her mischievous smile back at me.
Amelia points over my shoulder at Will. “Okay! Rules first. You can hang out with us, but you have to interact like a friend and not a bodyguard. No subtly protecting me!”
And then Will’s butterfly knuckles enter my vision, and my skin curls up with tension. I keep my eyes on the table—hand wrapped around my drink. “Deal. If a fight breaks out, I’ll use you as my shield.”
Will takes the seat beside me, and his shoulders are too broad for this small space. He’s almost touching me. Out of the corner of my eye I see him look at me. I cut my gaze to him for a fraction of a second, and his mouth suggests a smile—a hidden one. Secrets.
“Annabell,” he whispers making the hairs rise on the back of my neck.
“Wilfred.”
We grin quietly at each other until Maddie’s voice breaks through our moment. “Hey, did you see the latest articles floating around about you from this week?”
“No. I try to stay off social media as much as possible,” Amelia says, and then her expression turns weary. “But what are they saying now?”
Maddie chuckles. “Not you, pop star. Him.” She nods toward Will. “There’s a fresh batch of photos of him guarding you at all of your events from the past few days, and they are calling him…” her smile grows, “A stern brunch daddy.”
“A what?” Will asks, sounding horrified. “Wait—do I want to know? It sounds disturbing.”
“What’s disturbing?” Noah asks, finally making his way back to the table, and this time, he has James in tow.
Amelia looks up at Noah as he sets down a beer in front of her. “Will is a stern brunch daddy.”
Noah looks like he just stepped in cow manure. “I can’t even begin to know what that is.”
James, however, takes a chair from the table beside us and whips it around to straddle it, forearms resting on the back. He steals one of Maddie’s fries, earning her glare. “A stern brunch daddy is a term romance readers use to describe a character type. It’s when a dude who looks scary is actually all soft and sweet to the person he loves.”
