Page 38 of The Jellybean Dilemma

“What sort of explanation would you give me, if I asked for one?” His words were cautious, as if holding a pair of pliers over a ticking bomb and being told to choose which wire to cut. He wanted all the information first.

It was a chance, and I took it. “My parents always paid. I don’t know if it was a status thing, a power thing, or a pride thing. But they made sure they always paid, so I had them as a precedent.”

I sighed because it was so much more than that. “Even without their example, I was the richest kid at most of my functions. People just…assumed. Sometimes I’d wait to see if anyone would offer to pick up the check or at least split it. But it rarely happened.” I shrugged.

A bitter memory popped into my mind, spilling out of my mouth. “I remember my first date, how I’d built up the romance in my mind. I imagined a candlelit dinner and snuggling at a movie afterward. I was so caught up in the daydream that I didn’t notice at first when he slid the bill to me at our table. He even winked, like I was in on some joke with him.”

I stared out of the window at the gravel-streaked piles of snow lining the edge of the parking lot. One was taller than the roof of our car. My quiet words had a despondent edge to them. “So, I stopped waiting. Now, I just pay.” And, apparently, was condemned for it.

Warm fingers slid over my hand, engulfing it and spilling over onto my thigh. “Rhonda.” Greg’s voice was gruff. “Please look at me.”

Slowly, I turned my head, glancing down at his hand covering mine then up at his handsome face.

“I’m so sorry. You’re right that I judged you in there. I let my own insecurities get the better of me, and I was an ass.” He squeezed my hand. “I’m sorry, Jellybean.”

The apology wedged its way past my defenses, making a home in my heart. I flipped my hand over to clasp his. “Apology accepted.” I managed a small grin. “And thanks for lunch.”

He smiled then, a true stomach-flipping, dimple-making smile. “You’re welcome. Now I need some coffee, and we should talk about what we’re going to do about those favor bags.”

We bounced some ideas around on the way to the coffee shop. I wanted the favor bags to be my present to Mandy since I hadn’t gotten her a gift. But I wanted them done right, unique and classy. “Is there any sort of art district or shops nearby that sell local artists’ works?”

Greg thought for a few as he merged into traffic. “There are a few up by Presque Isle—a pottery shop, a gallery, and I’m not sure what else. It’d be worth a shot.”

It sounded like a good place to start. I hoped the fiasco at the decoration warehouse was a fluke and our good luck from earlier would continue. When we pulled into the coffee place, Greg offered to run in just as my phone dinged. I accepted, happy to sit tight. Pulling out my phone, I grinned when I saw Avery’s name.

Hey girl! How’s Greg treating you? What’s new?

I quickly replied.

Fine, good. How are things your way?

Seriously, you run off with the chauffeur and that’s all I get?

lol

I had to give her something or she’d pester me until I did. I typed out the first thing that darted into my head.

Um, did you know he has a dimple?

Really?!

Yep, only when he really smiles.

Do you want to lick it?

I stared at the phone for a long minute. Avery had a track record of blurting out weird thoughts, but this was unusual even for her.

Um…what?

This romance author I’m reading right now has a thing for dimples, and she’s always going on about her main character wanting to lick them. Derek doesn’t have any. So, I wondered if that’s anything you ever thought about?

I wrinkled my nose.

No, not so much.

Damn, it’s not Gina’s thing either. I need to find someone to let me know what I’m missing.

You need help. And maybe a different book.

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