Page 89 of Everything's Coming Up Rosie

From a retirement community.

Going line dancing.

You know, the usual.

“I’m glad you didn’t wear a cowboy hat and boots,” I say.

“Why? You have a thing for cowboys?” He gazes at the door of the theatre, nonchalant as ever.

“Cowboysarehard to resist,” I say, trying desperately to banish the mental picture of him striding out of a saloon saying,“I’m your huckleberry.”

I see the corners of his eyes crinkle in a slight smile. “Duly noted.”

While we wait, he asks about the first rehearsal. I give him a brief overview—we did introductions of the team and the cast, then read through the script.

Twice, our Prince Charming fell asleep at the table, whichdoesn’t bode well, but it did give me the idea to have as many daytime rehearsals as possible. Apparently, starting at 2:00 p.m. was a cardinal sin.

“Overall, it was good,” I tell him. “Maybe even fun.” I look away, smiling. Because it was fun. And because I’m already looking forward to the next one.

Bertie busts through the front door of the theatre, followed by a very grumpy-looking Arthur. She rushes over to the car and motions for Booker to roll down the window.

“I’m going to ride with Arthur,” she says. “He said he’ll only come along if he can drive himself. He also said he’s not dancing.” She leans in and whispers, “But we’ll just see about that.”

I have to laugh because as intimidating as Arthur is, Bertie doesn’t seem to notice. Or maybe she notices but doesn’t care, which sort of makes her my hero.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Booker asks. “Some people really do like to be left alone.”

She waves him off. “It’s not good for anybody to be alone, Book, you know that.” She winks at me. “That’s for you too.”

“I’m not alone,” I quip. “I’m here with you jokers.”

She turns to Booker. “Oh, I like her. I like her a lot.” She hitches her bag up on her shoulder and looks at me. “He likes you too, in case he doesn’t say so.”

“Bertie.” Booker’s tone is like a warning.

It’s clear by her mischievous grin that Bertie isn’t intimidated by him either. “See you there!”

Booker rolls up the window and looks at me. “She’s been on this kick about me settling down.”

“Would you like me to set you up with a dating profile?” I tease.

He shoots me a look and shakes his head, and only then do I realize that our oddball double date just became a single date, and even though that’s not actually what this is, it’s definitelywhat it feels like. I fold my hands in my lap. “I’m in love with your grandma.”

“She’s the best.” He starts the car and backs out of the space. We drive past Arthur and Bertie, him with his arms folded and her pointing at the passenger-side door. We’re soon down the curvy road and off the Sunset Hills property.

The sun has begun its grand descent, and with the open fields, the sky looks massive. And beautiful.

“Wow,” I say, taking it in. “You don’t see sunsets like this in New York.”

“It’s pretty spectacular, isn’t it?” Booker slows the car, stopping at an intersection. He glances at me. “And the way the light comes in...” A pause. “You look really pretty right now.”

A heat sizzles in my belly from that compliment. I was unprepared to fake a response, and I feel my face flush. “Um, thanks,” I sputter. And then add, goofily, “Youdolike me.” I waggle my eyebrows, joking, but Booker doesn’t deny it. Instead, he smiles and goes back to looking at the road.

I’m not used to this—being openorhaving the attention of a man I find so attractive.

My ex-boyfriend, Peter, was good-looking, sure, but part of the reason I was with him was because he was really the only option. More of a relationship of proximity. Plus, he didn’t make demands on me. He didn’t lead conversations, and he most certainly didn’t ask a bunch of personal questions.

He also didn’t make me feel all loopy inside.

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