Page 31 of Suddenly Dating
Harry winced. “Jesus, Lola, it’s two in the morning—”
“I know, I know, and I am so, so sorry, Harry. Please don’t hang up—I didn’t know who else to call!”
“Why are you calling anyone at this time of night?” he asked irritably, and rubbed his eye. “Look, I’ve got to get some sleep.”
“Harry, please—I need your help,” she said frantically, and when she did, he heard that unmistakable crack in her voice—the sound of a woman about to cry.
He mentally shook the sleep off his brain. “What’s wrong?”
“You’ll think it’s so stupid. I can’t even—”
“We can discuss how stupid it is when the sun is shining. What’s going on?”
“Can you please come get me?” she asked weakly. “I was going to walk all the way, but... well, did you see my shoes? My feet are killing me! I’m not Bear Grylls. I can’tdothis.”
She was definitely not the survivalist Bear Grylls. “Why are you walking home? What happened to your ride?”
“I had to get out of there, Harry. I didn’t know it wasthatkind of party.”
“What kind?”
“Youknow.”
No, he didn’t know, but whatever it was, he didn’t like the sound of it.Dammit. Damsel in distress. It was guy code—you couldn’t turn your back on women or children or animals when they needed help. “Okay. Where are you?”
“Thank you,thankyou. I’m at the hardware store at the bottom of Juneberry Road. The one with all the pinwheels.”
“The what?”
“The pinwheels. You put them in your yard—”
“Right, yeah, pinwheels.” He would have said it was the place with all the riding mowers out front. “All right. I’ll be there in about ten minutes.”
“Thank yousomuch, Harry! I really owe—”
“Hold tight,” he said impatiently. He hung up the phone and went in search of pants.
Ten
Well, this was super embarrassing.
Lola was sitting on a riding lawn mower, her feet propped up on the steering wheel, and her shoes, her fabulous, way-too-expensive shoes, on the ground beside the mower. How could shoes that cute be that lethal?
When she saw headlights coming down Juneberry Road, she knew it was Harry. She watched as his silver truck coasted to a stop into the parking lot, the headlights pointed at her. She leaned down to pick up her traitorous shoes and stood up on the running board of the mower. The headlights blinded her—she couldn’t see the truck or Harry. She gave a weak wave.
That wave was followed by the sound of a truck door closing, and then, like a spirit in a ghost movie, Harry emerged from the blinding light of the head beams. He was wearing a hoodie, sandals, and shorts, his hands in his pockets. He walked to the mower and looked her up and down as she stood on the runner. “Are you okay?”
No, she was not okay. She’d been through a harrowing night, and if she hadn’t thought he’d recoil or think her weird, she’d have thrown her arms around him for coming to her rescue. Instead, she shrugged sheepishly. “I’m okay.”
“That’s good.” He yawned. “Let’s get out of here.”
“I can never thank you enough, Harry. I mean that.”
“Okay.” He gestured toward the truck. “Let’s go.”
She clutched her bitchy shoes to her chest. “I never have to ask for help. Usually, I’m the one picking people up in the middle of the night.”
One of his brows rose above the other.
