Page 3 of Off the Wall

First my brother got stuck raising me. And since he and Becca had enough on their plates becoming insta-parents at twenty, they never ended up having kids of their own. Instead, they stuck around Serendipity Springs so I always had a home base to return to. Even now that I’m a fully grown adult, they still spend way too much time worrying.

You loseonejob in New York City, and suddenly everybody hovers. Forever.

Or maybe that’s just me.

The thing is, I felt terrible enough about the bookstore chain I couldn’t save. But I came back to Serendipity Springs ready to prove I can stand on my own two feet. I’m trying to move forward. East and Becca?

Not so much.

They were afraid my tea shop salary might not cover the rent and expenses on a two-bedroom apartment, and they probably aren’t wrong. So I found a solution. Hayden moved in, and I’ve been splitting costs with my bestie. Perfect, right?

Until MatchYou introduced her to her dream man. One Hallmark movie later, and Hayden Warner’s going to be Mrs. Jasper Perkins next month.

No more roommate for me.

“You all right?” Warren’s frowning at me from across the table.

I swallow past the lump in my throat. “I guess I’m just not feeling very well.”

“Hold on.” He digs in his pocket. “I always carry a pack of Tums.” That’s actually sort of kind of him. But how often is heartburn an issue that the man brings antacids on a date?

“Thanks, but it’s not heartburn,” I tell him.

“Gotcha.” He makes a move for his other pocket. “I have GasX too.”

“On second thought,” I choke out, “I’m feeling betteralready.” I force a small smile that probably looks more like a grimace. Then I send up a silent prayer that my friend, Keeley, will call me. She lives one floor down from Hayden and me at The Serendipity. She offered to interrupt this date at the ten-minute mark with a fake emergency.

You know. In case this date was disastrous and I wanted to escape. Or die.

Check, check, and check.

But I told her the fake emergency call has to be the oldest trick in the book. Bordering on cliché. Also, I figured going into my date prepared for it to be awful wasn’t exactly the best attitude to inspire a positive outcome. But mostly I didn’t want to lie to the man I was having dinner with. I hate lying. To myself and to other people.

At this point, though, I’d probably commit perjury on the witness stand to get out of spending one more minute with Warren Snuze.

I just don’t want to hurt poor Mrs. Chamberlin’s feelings.

From across the room, a busboy dressed in black approaches with a basket of fresh rolls. As he reaches our table, my mouth waters at the scent of warm garlic bread. If I get busy cramming all those delicious rolls in my mouth, maybe I can avoid any more conversation with Warren.

Bonus points for the garlic breath that will prevent him seeking a goodnight kiss.

Unfortunately, Warren waves the busboy away. “No bread for us.”

“Wait!” I yelp. “YES, BREAD FOR US!”

Who in their right mind doesn’t want bread at an Italian restaurant? One of the reasons I was excited to try Vincenzo’s in the first place is that their baskets of garlic rolls are bottomless.

“Your appetizer is already breaded,” Warren says, rolling his eyes. “Don’t you think that’s enough?”

“I guess,” I mumble, and the busboy shrugs, disappearing along with all my hopes and dreams of warm rolls.

Warren swirls his Chianti around the glass, then he takes a noisy sip. “I like to watch my carbs,” he says.

Me too,I think.I like to watch them enter my mouth, and I love every single one of them.

“I’m totally into keto these days,” he adds. “Except for the wine, of course.” He takes another healthy gulp. “I eat mostly meats, cheeses, and fats. And let me tell you, my abs notice. The ladies do, too.” He sets down his glass to pat his belly, and my skin officially crawls. I’m going to need some mind bleach to erase my thoughts about what’s lurkingunderthat undershirt.

Warren narrows his eyes. “Something wrong?”

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