But after three years of flirting at the local coffee shop, wearing low-cut shirts as I give him the mail that makes its way into my spa’s mailbox, and wearing tight skirts, nothing’s working.
Then, a few days ago, Pat Samson suggested I join his next nature hike crew. It’ll be three days of roughing it in the wild. I thought it’d be a good thing to show Cole that I’m tougher than he thinks I am. That under my candy-colored lip gloss and pink nails, I’m a tough, capable chick who can handle any testosterone thrown at her. That I’d be good girlfriend potential.
And heck, it was an excuse to go to his store and lean on the counter with my boobs practically hanging out.
What did the man do? Called me an idiot and ran me out.
I officially give up. My crush on Cole is getting me nowhere. Time to throw in the towel and move on. Maybe I’ll meet someone hot while camping.
Maybe I’ll just go home and give my bullet vibe a good round and daydream about Cole.
I pull out my day planner and scan the list of appointments I have today. When I look up, Leo’s heading across the street to my spa.
I straighten and fluff my hair, just in case Cole sent him over. Then I pretend to be super busy, staring down at my planner and making notes as if things need tweaking.
The door chimes as it opens, and I look up with a smile. “Hey, Leo. What brings you here?”
Leo grins at me, all white teeth and tanned skin. I wish I was attracted to him instead of fixated on grumpy Cole. Leo’s easygoing and friendly. “I think we both know I’m here to apologize for Cole.”
I sniff. “What, he’s not adult enough to put on his big-boy pants and apologize to me in person?”
Leo shrugs. “That’s not it. He just gets a bit…worked up around you.”
Yeah. Worked up like pissed off. How dare I paint my nails in their testosterone-laden resort town? “He’s just a jerk. I go out of my way to be nice to him and he talks to me like I’m stupid.”
Leo shakes his head and sits in one of the pink, girly seats in my waiting room. He picks up a women’s magazine and his brow wrinkles as he gazes at the pictures. “Nah,” he says, not looking up from the mag. “You just hit a nerve with that Pat stuff.”
“What’s wrong with Pat?”
“Pat’s a dumbass.”
Really? We were back to this again? “Pat Samson is a very nice man. He told me he saved a spot on his next camping trip just for me.”
“I’ll bet he did,” Leo mutters.
I pull out a tray of nail polishes and begin checking the bottles for dried-up paint. “What do you mean by that?”
“Nothin’,” Leo drawls, and flips the magazine sideways, then tosses it aside. “He just don’t like the thought of you camping with Pat.”
“Pat offered!”
“And Cole doesn’t like that.”
Exasperated, I slam a bottle of gunmetal gray down harder than I should. “Oh, good lord. Why doesn’t the man just pee on my leg and mark me as his territory?”
“That’s a wolf thing, not a bear.”
I tilt my head at him. “Huh?”
Leo waves a hand. “Nothin’.” He leaps back out of the chair, sending it skidding backward. “Anyhow. I came here to ask if you wanted me to put together those supplies for you since Cole’s being a jackass.”
“Oh. That’d be sweet. Thank you, Leo.” I beam at him. “I have the list right…um…” I bend over and grab the crumpled wad out of the trashcan, and then do my best to smooth the paper before handing it over. My cheeks feel hot.
Leo just shakes his head and chuckles. “All righty. I’ll see what I can round up and I’ll text you later with the total. You can swing by and pay for things after hours.”
“That’d be wonderful. Thank you so much, Leo. Truly. You’re a good friend.”
He studies the list, and then that coy grin moves over his face again. “You don’t have condoms on this list.”
“I…I beg your pardon?”
“Condoms.” He taps the paper. “You want me to pack some for you?”
A nervous laugh escapes my throat. “Why would I need that?”
He shrugs. “No reason. I’ll get this started for you. Later, Adelaide.”
“Bye.”
I watch him leave, curious. Does he really think I’m going to hook up with someone on Pat’s camping trip? It’s absurd. The only person I want to hook up with is Cole…who hates me.
I sigh. I must really have it bad. Maybe a few days in the woods will do me a lot of good.
???
“Here’s a robe for you,” I say to Mrs. Wesson as I lead her back to room two. “I’ll give you a few minutes to change and pick out a scent for your massage oils, and then I’ll be in shortly.” I smile at her encouragingly.
“Do you have lavender?” she asks in a feeble voice. Mrs. Wesson is ninety if she’s a day. She’s been here every Monday this month, and she always asks for lavender.