Page 5 of The Wrong Date Deal

Massima held her glass up in a toast. “To Piper. And to her date tomorrow being a million times better than the one today and leading to something wonderful.”

The others held their glasses up too and said, “To Piper!”

Piper shook her head but joined in. No matter how badly her dates went, she was always glad she had this group to come home to. And, while she wasn’t feeling as optimistic about tomorrow as Massima clearly was, she’d take all of the good energy and belief she could get. After all, it only had to go right one time. Surely, that wasn’t too much to ask for?

Chapter Two

“August?” the deep voice of August’s brother called as she let herself into her apartment.

“Hey, Ford,” she called back, stripping off her coat, scarf, and hat. “Everything’s still great over at your place, huh?”

He groaned and stepped into view—a slender, but tall man whose build tended to surprise people slightly if they heard him speak first. Although, he was so pale that some people were still surprised. Though, that was less about his voice not matching his build. And August wasn’t much better, but she at least had a slightly warmer complexion than Ford had.

August smiled. “Ah. Really good.”

He winced. “If I make dinner, can I stay here again tonight?”

She laughed. “You can stay even if you don’t make dinner.”

“No, no. I need to pay you back.”

“Dude, you’re a student, working a rough job, and choosing to sleep on your sister’s couch because your apartment is a wreck. You can just relax. I know how to cook.”

“I’m in culinary school. Cooking is what I do.”

“Literally what you do. And what your roommates are trying to get you to do constantly. I’m an adult. I can make food. Or order it, it is Friday night, after all.”

Ford dropped himself onto August’s couch. It pulled out into a bed, but she doubted it was all that comfortable unless you were a child. If, like Ford, you were a twenty-seven-year-old man who worked four nights a week in a diner while being in culinary school, it was unlikely to give you the rest you needed.

“Maybe I should have just stuck with my security job and never gone back to school. At least I liked my previous roommates,” he said, letting his head fall back.

“Nah,” August said, heading for the kitchen. “You hated that job, and you live for cooking. It’ll be worth it in the end.”

“Eh. If I lived for cooking, maybe I wouldn’t be so annoyed by my roommates demanding I make every meal of the day.”

“You can be…” August cast around for the name of a famous chef. “Um. Gordon Ramsey. You can beGordon Ramseyand still be sick of everyone demanding food from you.”

“Weird pick,” Ford said, appearing in the kitchen. “He’s kind of famous for being annoyed with everyone.”

“Yeah, but he really loves food. So he’s a great example of loving food but hating people demanding it from you.”

Ford laughed and shook his head. “You might need to brush up on your Gordon Ramsey trivia, but I see your point.”

She shot him a look, setting about finishing up the drinks he’d been working on—fresh hot chocolate. Given that she was home so late, he’d guessed her arrival time bizarrely well.

She looked at the ingredients he’d been pulling out but hadn’t started anything with. He was an incredible chef. Augusthad been delighted when he’d upped and decided he was ready to go to college—so long as it was culinary school—even though their parents weren’t convinced. But, no matter how talented he was, even chefs deserved a treat sometimes.

“What are you thinking?” Ford asked, watching her stare at the crowded worktop.

August grinned. “That we’re ordering in.”

“That’s really not necessary. I can cook. You’re letting me stay. Again. It’s the least I can do.”

“You’re sleeping on my couch. The least I can do is order you a decent meal.”

“I canmakea decent meal.”

“Believe me, I know.” She shook her head. “Just think of it as… research.”

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