“Robin Lear,” she repeated. “Lear Transport Industries.”
That was followed by a wait of maybe five seconds before Robin began to tap her foot. Patience was definitely not her strong suit. Suddenly the foot tapping stopped. “Yes! What—excuse me? Robin Lear of Lear Transport Industries. I would like to speak with Eldagirt Wirt about an opportunity I think she will find very exciting—No, she didn’t win a cruise. Look, could you just ask Ms. Wirt to come to the phone?”
Whatever the other person said seemed to throw her for a loop. “Huh?” she asked, sounding terribly confused. “No, wait—Hello?”
Robin held the phone out from her head and looked at it. “What the hell?” she said, and put the phone down.
Jake kept his back turned, trying hard to pretend like he hadn’t just heard every bit of that. After a moment, he heard the click of her heels into the kitchen, the sound of a variety of doors being opened, and then the click of heels back into the dining room.
“I’m ordering out, do you want anything?”
He assumed she was talking to him and glanced at his watch. Twelve-thirty.
“But vegan,” she added. “Do you like vegan?” He turned to look at her. She arched a dark brow. “You know, vegetables and plant-based. No dairy, no meat.”
“How does a person live without dairy or meat?” he asked.
“That’s precisely the point,” she said, and pushed that dark curl from her face. “You can live a much longer, healthier life without clogging your veins with animal fat.”
“Lots of people eat meat and live long lives.”
She blinked. “Well, yeah. But it’s not that healthy. Look, you don’t have to eat it. I was just asking.”
“No thanks,” he said. “I’ve got to go out later. I’ll pick something up then.”
“Fine,” she said absently, and picked up the phone, dialing from memory. “Hi, this is Robin Lear on North? I’d like delivery, please. Eggplant wrap and salad—EGGPLANT WRAP AND SALAD! Eggplant— Okay. Thanks. Wait—One question. I ordered an eggplant wrap two weeks ago, and I could swear it was mozzarella and not tofu. Are you sure it’s tofu? What? Well . . . okay . . . just make sure its tofu, will you?”
Now he knew for a fact he didn’t like vegan and was about to say as much when his cell rang. Lindy. He clicked on the phone and walked to the front door. “Lindy, what’s up?” he asked as he stepped outside and walked to his truck.
From the dining room window, Robin watched him. She could imagine what Lindy looked like—probably tall and willowy and blond. Jake probably asked her out for a pizza and the movies on the first date. She could just hear it now—Do you like pi?a coladas, long walks in the rain, puppy dogs, and old movies? They deserved each other. He was the kind of guy who probably needed a woman to hang on his every word, and anyone named Lindy was probably the woman for the job. A match made in heaven.
Dammit.
A match made in heaven had completely eluded her. It seemed like everyone she knew had one. Well, everyone except Rebecca, who was married to Dirtbag Bud. And Rachel—you could hardly count Myron as a match made in heaven. And Lucy, although she kept a string of guys around. And Evan damn sure didn’t count, in spite of her atrocious lack of judgment last night. Okay, so Mia and Fix-em Fred had matches made in heaven. It bothered Robin that she was even thinking this way. It wasn’t as if she was looking for some long-term relationship.
She liked her freedom.
Thrived on it.
Who was she kidding? She’d love to have a long-term relationship. But she picked the wrong guys (Evan), and the ones who picked her never stayed long. Why was she so obviously unlikable? “You’ll chill out someday.” Mia’s remark came screaming back at her, then Jake’s observation that she was bossy, and Robin wondered if it were possible that she was just now figuring out what everyone else already knew. Robin didn’t want to be unlikable. She really meant well. But she knew that she had a slight problem—every thought that popped into her head came tumbling out her mouth. And the thought that popped into her head in that moment was loser.
That sent Robin into an even blacker mood.
Jake wasn’t faring a whole lot better out on the drive.
“I was thinking we could study together for the exam Thursday,” Lindy was saying.
Why did that sound like an after-school malt date? “Lindy . . . I think you should know—I’m not really looking to date just now.”
“Date? Who said date?” Her laughter was stilted. “Just friends!”
“Okay. So we’ll study—”
“Sure!” she said brightly. “I’ll meet you at the campus cafe around eight, okay?”