Unfortunately, Robyn was too busy to do more than say hello and talk for a few minutes about her upcoming vacation to Sebastian Inlet on the other side of Florida. Her sister spent most of her spare time surfing, and Sebastian Inlet had some of the best waves in the state. Emma might be decent on a paddleboard, but she had never been graceful on a surfboard. Their brother, Boston, was a natural surfer with the whole surfer-dude stereotype to go along with it. Her siblings had been more blessed in the natural athleticism department than she had.
At that moment, she envied them both. She seemed to be doing a lot of that lately. Robyn worked and surfed. She dated but had no desire to be in a serious relationship with anyone. Boston . . . well, whatever he did, he seemed pretty happy with it. Emma, on the other hand, had slept with her boss, going so far as to have a fake relationship with him and then fallen in love with him. She now realized that she had probably been in love with him for a while. Her uptight, boring boss was so unpredictable now that she had no idea what he would do next. He was hot, then cold and just generally all over the place. His ex-fiancée was living with him and she had vague recollections of him calling last night, sounding pissed off that she had been with Declan. God, her life was a mess.
The weekend loomed long and lonely before her. That had never bothered her before, but with Brant gone and so much up in the air, it was hard to enjoy the thought of more time on her hands. She decided that she would stop at Walmart on the way home and splurge on some chick flicks and snacks. She would spend the weekend in style . . . on her couch . . . wearing pajamas . . . not brushing her hair . . . and not bathing. Solo girl time was just what she needed.
Emma’s shopping cart was full and she was trying to decide between The Proposal and Sweet Home Alabama when she heard, “Ahem, death by chocolate—how original.” Emma jerked her head up to see Brant’s sister, Ava, standing on the other side of her cart. She liked Ava, but she could have lived without the tall, beautiful blonde witnessing her descent into the Lonely Friday Night Syndrome. Ava was probably on her way to some swanky party and had stopped at Walmart for breath mints. It was obvious from Emma’s shopping cart that she was here to stock up for a long weekend.
When Ava picked up the king-size Cadbury chocolate caramel bar from her cart and lifted a brow, Emma grabbed it back. “Back off, that’s the last one and I’ll fight you for it,” she warned in a teasing tone.
Ava smiled. “It’s all yours. So . . . no plans tonight?”
Emma gave her a sarcastic smile in return. “What gave that away?”
Instead of answering immediately, Ava studied her for a moment before asking, “Do you want to go somewhere and have a drink? I was planning to buy a bottle of wine and head home, but I’d rather have some company.”
“Er . . . sure. That sounds good.” Actually, Emma was about as excited over the prospect as she had been over her root canal, but they both knew that she had no other plans. Maybe it would be better than going home and gaining five pounds in one evening. Like her brother, Ava was generally reserved, but tonight she looked as lost as Emma felt. There were cracks showing in her cool veneer, and Emma was just curious enough to want to find out what was going on.
Ava pointed to her cart. “Do you need to make your purchases first?”
Feeling guilty, Emma looked around to see if the coast was clear before she slid her cart against the wall on the next aisle. If she were lucky, it would still be there when she came back after her drink. There was no way she could unload a hundred dollars’ worth of food and movies in front of Ava. Luckily, other than the knowing grin that twisted her lips, she didn’t comment. “Should I just meet you somewhere?”
She really didn’t want this bonding experience to include a car trip together if she could avoid it. She could just imagine the look on Ava’s face when she saw the less than perfect condition of her car. It may have been a few months—or years—since she had cleaned it out.
“Charlie’s is just down the block. Why don’t we walk?” Even better, Emma thought to herself. As soon as things became too awkward between them, she could escape back to Walmart, grab her shopping cart and continue on with her miserable evening. Perfect. She was absurdly grateful that she hadn’t been home to change yet and still looked reasonably respectable.
Conversation was difficult due to the traffic rushing by, so Emma decided to forgo any small talk as they walked to the restaurant. When they were seated at a table and had ordered drinks, she found herself shifting uncomfortably under Ava’s curious gaze. “So . . . um . . . do you come here often?” Oh my God, did I really just ask her that? It sounds like I’m trying to pick her up. Why does she make me so nervous? Just think of her as Brant with a vagina.
Looking amused, Ava said, “No, not really. Mac and I usually go to a small Irish bar close to my place when we want a drink.”
“Was he busy tonight?”
Ava looked down, drawing circles on the smooth tabletop with her fingers. “He’s always busy now. I should know that life moves on, and it seems so has he.”