“Now, ladies,” I say in a soft tone. “There’s no need to argue. Mabel, put down that rose. Respectfully, if you smack Harriet with it, you’re going to have to buy it.” Mabel harrumphs and resheaths the rose into its rightful bucket. “How about I put your names in a hat to decide who’s in charge? Or better yet, we can do half the arrangements pink and white and half purple and white.”
“Or,” Mabel says as she inches toward the door, her leather support loafers squelching lightly with each step. She puts her hand on the door handle and continues, “We can put it to a vote at the planning committee. I’ll go tell them! Nice to see you back in town, William!” She flings open the door and makes a mad dash through it, heel-toeing it past the shop window and down the sidewalk.
“That dirty cheat! She’s going to promise Deloris the use of her dining room for bunco night if she votes for her before I get there.” And out she races in a dash of bland grayness.
With a smile on my face, I turn back to the store, nearly jumping out of my skin when I see Will staring at me.
He levels me with a look so potent I think I’ll fall flat on my back.
“My answer is no. I can’t be your dating coach.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Will
Annie’s hands go to her hips. “Well, for the record, I thought it was a bad idea at first, but why do you think it’s a bad idea?”
I can think of a million and two reasons. But the first and most important is that I’m miserably attracted to Annie and need to stay as far away from her as possible over the next month. I haven’t been able to get her off my mind since last night. I even dreamed about her.
Damn that dream.
I absolutely can’t get involved with her. Not only because she’s Amelia’s soon-to-be sister-in-law, but because Annie represents everything I avoid. Commitment. Relationship. Longevity. My brain sees her and superimposes a big Nope! sign above her head. Absolutely not.
“Because,” I say, wishing that was enough of an answer. “Have you never seen the movies like this? The woman always has to do a bunch of shit she doesn’t like to do, like go to places that make her uncomfortable, change her style, and step outside of her normal world. And then, by the end of the movie, the guy falls in love with her and everything gets complicated. No, it sounds like a terrible idea. Not to mention I’m opposed to the whole love thing. I don’t want a relationship with anyone ever—and why are you smiling at me like that?”
Her blue eyes are sparkling with dangerous ideas. “Oh my gosh. Amelia is right. You are perfect for the job.”
I stare incredulously at her. “Were you even listening just now?”
“Yes, and I heard a man who’s very qualified to be a dating coach.”
I shake my head. “No, I’m not. I’m not doing it.”
“But what if I promise I won’t fall in love with you?” she says as if that’s a flattering option. “You’re not the kind of guy I’m looking for anyway.”
“Wow. I feel great now. Thank you.”
“Come on, Will! It’s perfect.”
“Annie…” Instinctively I take a step back, but she follows. I’ve never felt hunted more than I do at this moment. I wish I couldn’t say I don’t like it.
“Wildon, please be my tutor.”
I shake my head, trying not to laugh while skirting around her. A minute ago I was the one holding all the power, and somehow she flipped the script and has me crossing to the complete opposite side of the shop to escape her. “Why do you need a tutor so badly?”
“Because I’d really like to get married before I’m eighty, and my last date was a disaster.”
“It couldn’t have been a disaster.”
“A disaster,” she repeats firmly, with eyes wide open. “Remember how he left at the beginning of the date? Before that I overheard him on the phone tell his friend that I was unbelievably boring. Too dull to hook up with.”
Rage swiftly and furiously sweeps over me. “What a dick. Tell me his name. I’m going to—”
“He didn’t mean for me to overhear it,” Annie says, sticking up for a man who doesn’t deserve it. “And the fact is, he wasn’t wrong. I thought back on the date, and…I really was boring. I couldn’t think of anything to talk about. I need help learning how to be fun on dates.”
But as I look at Annie’s flushed face and sparkling eyes, her words still don’t sit right. She shouldn’t have to change herself.
I lean closer. “If any jackass thinks you’re boring, that’s his problem, not yours.”
She looks away. “You only say that because you’ve never been called boring, or dull, or wholesome. One look at you and everyone knows you’re the antithesis of those words. But me—I need some help or I’m never going to find someone. I need a coach.”
The longer I stare at Annie, the more I itch to destroy the man who made her doubt herself. “No. Absolutely not. You deserve more than the kind of guy you went out with, and I’d die on this hill. You’ll find someone who sees you for who you really are.”
Annie completely disregards my thoughtful monologue.
“Ugh. Please, Will!” she asks in an over-the-top beg that makes me have to smother a grin.
“No.”
She props her hand on her hip. “Are you worried you’re going to fall in love with me?”
“Nope, I’m not.”
“Well, then, we don’t have any issues!”
“You’re not listening to me. I have issues because I don’t want any part of this plan. It’s a bad idea to change yourself.” And even more, I don’t want to see any part of Annie change. Not a single thing. I’ve never met anyone like her before—and it would be a damn shame for her to morph into some popular social construct of what a woman should be like on dates. I hate it. If some jackass doesn’t take the time to peel back her layers of nervousness to find out who she really is, he doesn’t deserve to have her when she’s at her most comfortable.
Annie follows me across the room—holding her letter in front of her like she’s gathering signatures for a petition. “I wouldn’t be changing myself. I’d just be getting more comfortable being myself on dates. Plus maybe a little changing here and there as needed.”
“I would rather wax off my eyebrows completely.”
“Rude.”
Without thinking, I place my hands on Annie’s shoulders. The shock of her soft warm skin against my rough palms momentarily sets me off-kilter. A hum of desire pulses through me so strong and sudden that I have to pull my hands back. Further evidence that I cannot be some sort of dating tutor for her. Fantasies are built on that kind of shit.
“I’m not doing it,” I say firmly. Final. End of story.
Annie’s shoulders sink, and I feel bad for letting her down. But still—I won’t be a part of the reason she’s not Annie anymore.
“Fine,” she says, stiffening into a more stubborn pose. “Then I’ll just have to hire someone else to do it.” She turns and starts walking back toward where I assume her storeroom is located.
“Like who?” I follow her.
She rounds the worktable, and I go around the opposite side until we meet in the middle. She cuts her eyes to directly look into mine. “Someone.” She blinks twice. “Someone good at being sexy who can help me be sexy too.” Two more blinks. “Maybe a male escort.”
I whistle quietly. “A male escort? No way is Annie Walker going bad. Are you going to pay extra for the sex too?”
Her eyes flare ever so slightly, but then her chin lifts. “Absolutely I’m going to pay extra for the…sex.” She drops her voice to a whisper on the last word, making me laugh.
“I gotta see this. Promise me you’ll bring him around once you’ve hired him?”
“Oh, I doubt I will,” Annie says as she heads into the storeroom. I follow again and then stop abruptly in the doorway when, faster than I expected, she surfaces holding a small bouquet of prearranged flowers. We’re standing together, bookended by either side of the doorway. “We’ll be too busy for me to bring him by with him teaching me all kinds of things.”
I narrow my eyes and tip forward to lean my hand on the doorframe over her shoulder. “Just to clarify and make sure I understand the whole picture. You’re saying you’ll be too busy with your male escort?”
“Yes, with my…” She briefly glances at my forearm beside her head and then weakly finishes her sentence, “male escort.”