Page 75 of Recipe for Rivals
Dusty swore.
“Your girlfriend?” I asked. She didn’t look happy.
“She tried to be,” he muttered. “I don’t know how to be more blunt than I’ve been, but she’s pretty persistent.”
I felt bad for them. It sounded like an all around uncomfortable situation. “She’s June’s maid of honor, right?” I’d seen them having wedding meetings more than once.
“Yeah, they’ve been good friends for a long time. She’s Tucker’s cousin, too.”
I nodded. Gracie Mae didn’t feel like competition—I wasn’tcompetingfor Dusty, first off—but I still couldn’t help but compare myself to her. She looked younger than me, her skin perfect, her smile flawless. I dragged my gaze to Dusty. “How old are you?”
“Twenty-eight.”
Wow. I was crushing on a baby. This would go a long way towards dousing the flame of my inappropriate feelings for him.
“What?” he asked, narrowing his eyes. “You didn’t like that answer.”
“It doesn’t matter. It just made me feel ancient.”
“Why? You can’t be more than…” He looked like he was doing math. “Actually, my grandpa taught me never to guess a woman’s age. I’m assuming you were pretty young when you had Ben.”
“I turned thirty-one at the beginning of the year. So yes, I’m ancient.”
“Hey, we still would have gone to high school at the same time.”
I laughed, moving toward the door and wanting to end this conversation. I caught Gracie Mae’s eye through the window and looked away quickly, actively choosing not to compare her luscious blonde hair to my own. I was four or five years and two babies older than her, after all.
Let’s be real. I was a mom. I was frumpy. My hair was almost neverdown because I couldn’t be bothered to style it. I loved my crew neck sweaters and worn-in jeans more than anything else, and my feet just couldn’t handle shoes without support for extended periods of time anymore.
He was young and handsome and a hometown hero. He could have anyone. Dusty definitely wasn’t looking at me the same way I was looking at him. I shot him a bright smile. “See you around!” I disappeared inside.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
DUSTY
My cat wasmy best friend, but Tucker was a close second. The man had been there for me since the fifth grade when we’d joined up for a science project and realized how much we both loved space. While he’d grown out of the obsession, mine evolved into a love of science fiction movies and books about different planets and saving up for my entire junior year to buy a telescope while everyone else traveled to Florida for spring break. Hence my cat’s name: Leia. Also, hence why Leia and I were watchingStar Wars: The Force Awakenswhile I ate sliders from another of my herb mixture tests. I kept trying new things, tweaking the recipe, and I was fairly confident in my final product. Next Saturday, it would be me against Nova and we’d have a winner.
Though, honestly, I’d be surprised if Chad let her do any of the cooking. The guy obviously asked for her help so he could spend time with her.
Rain pounded against my house, hitting it like little pebbles. I glanced at the window. We were on a tornado watch, which didn’t mean anything, really. A tornado warning hadn’t been issued yet.
But still, I didn’t want to deal with broken windshields if the hail arrived in earnest. Had anyone explained the tornado vocabulary to Nova? I hadn’t talked to her in a few days—since Saturday night, when she’d sent me a picture of funky looking purple spaghetti. She’d seemed a little weirded out that I was younger than her which, honestly, served to give me more confidence. Our ages were only relevant if she was starting to like me. No one cared how old the guy with a truck was when you only called him to help you move crap around.
But if you wanted a relationship with the guy with a truck, then age had somebearing. Not a lot, though. At least not to me. Why should it matter? I was a reasonable, mature adult. Those three years meant nothing.
My phone buzzed. I smiled when I picked it up.
Nova
Where is the safest place to ride out a tornado in my apartment? Do we go outside so we can be under the steps? I read that under the stairs is the safest place, but our only stairs are outside
It felt a little rewarding that she’d asked me and not Gigi.
Dusty
An interior room with no windows is ideal. In your place, I’d choose the bathroom
Nova