Page 102 of Passion at the Lake

The plate he’d placed in front of Jordan glinted in the light. Holy fuck, it had a ring on top of the slice of pie.

“Jordan? Will you be my wife?” Case wasn’t one for flowery words.

“You’re supposed to kneel, dipshit,” Dillon said.

I gave him a hard elbow in the ribs. His words had almost drowned out Jordan’syes.

We broke into loud congratulations, and everyone stood to give the engaged couple hugs, backslaps, and kisses.

CHAPTER28

Angela

It had been almosttwo hours since Boone left for dinner with his family, and I was still wondering if I’d done the wrong thing by declining his invitation. Maybe I should have gone with Laurie’s recommendation instead of Debbie’s. Life was short.

But it had seemed too soon, and being on display like that was beyond my comfort level. Give me a simple meeting at the coffee shop with one of his family members at a time any day over being judged by the whole group at once.

The humiliation of my first formal, meet-the-family dinner still stung. My freshman year in college, Ford had invited me to his parents’ house. He was a nice guy, but I should have looked up his parents’ address before agreeing. The exclusive Brookline neighborhood alone would have signaled that I’d be out of my element. Having his grandparents there as well should have been another warning sign.

Then there was the fact that his full name was Fordham Pickering Winthrop III. How laidback could the family be if they named their kid Fordham the third?

It was a disaster.

“Tell us about your family,” his mother had said.

How exactly did you explain that your mother had divorced your father after he was arrested for armed robbery? Then there was the part about him being in prison…

No, it had not gone well.

I put those thoughts behind me and moved to the next page of the location-scouting project, labeledHD, I had in front of me. My fingers started to cramp. Using the keys on this laptop was nothing like the ergonomic keyboard I’d left behind. This called for ice therapy—ice cream, to be precise.

I’d learned that the proper way to prevent the joint pain was to hold my hands around a carton of ice cream for thirty seconds, followed by ingesting an adequate portion of said ice cream, preferably a flavor that included chocolate.

The tiny freezer section in the mini fridge in the shack was barely big enough for a tray of ice cubes, so I trekked up to the big house and prayed that Marge and Boone had stocked what I needed.

But opening the freezer didn’t yield what I craved, and at this pointcravewas not too strong a word. We all needed our fuel. For some it was caffeine from an endless supply of coffee or Diet Cokes. Pulling all-nighters in college, I’d been one of those Coca-Cola fiends myself. That had lasted until I’d learned how beneficial the chill from a carton of Rocky Road could be for my fingers.

Returning to the shack for my keys, I decided getting out of the house would also help me get out of my head. My reward would be a pint of Rocky Road—or maybe a half-gallon.

* * *

Lucky for me,Charlie Tomato, the quirky grocery store in town, was still open when I drove up.

“Ice cream?” I asked the clerk as soon as she finished ringing up a guy at the register.

The man glanced at me only momentarily as he passed with his bag of groceries. As usual, my unkempt hair in a ponytail, zero makeup, glasses, and baggy clothes made me invisible to members of the opposite sex.

“That kind of day, huh?” the clerk asked.

I nodded. “Yeah.” Explaining my ulterior motive for the cold cardboard cylinder hadn’t gone over well the two times I’d tried to explain it. “Weirdo,” had been the whisper that followed me.

“Back wall, all the way to the right.” She motioned.

I thanked her, grabbed a basket, and marched that direction. Luckily they had both rocky road and double fudge brownie. Choosing to be responsible for once, I plopped a pint of each in my basket and bypassed the half-gallon cartons.

A woman leaned against the shelf of the end-cap as I turned the corner, headed back to the register with my loot.

I stopped midstride. “Pris? I thought you’d be at the dinner.”

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