The Best Man (Blue Heron #1)(63)

The memory of that kiss had been replayed roughly a thousand and eight times in Faith’s brain, usually around three in the morning. Twice in the week that had passed, the smell of chocolate had crept into her apartment, and it was maddening. So close and yet so far, across the hall and baking. Way too adorable an image to pursue. Almost as adorable as the sight of him sitting by her bed, asleep, all rumpled hair and long eyelashes and beautiful arms.

This was her problem: falling for emotionally unavailable men. For one night, Levi had been nice to her, one lousy (well, okay, one excellent) kiss, and yes, her panties were in a snarl.

She dug into the gravel with more strength than was necessary. Call it a workout.

“I heard you and Colleen went to a singles thing,” Jeremy said. He hesitated. “Are you...interested? In dating somebody here, I mean. Or maybe you’re seeing someone already?”

“No. Nope. I’m not. Not even a little.” Okay, she didn’t have to be so emphatic. “Why?”

“Well,” he said, throwing the ball for Blue once more, “maybe this is just me trying to soothe my conscience, but...think you’d like to be fixed up?”

“I’d love it,” she said instantly.

“Really?” Jeremy asked.

“Absolutely. How well do you know him?”

“Not that well. He’s my accountant.” Jeremy paused. “He’s very good-looking. And honest.”

“Sold! Give me his number, I’ll call him right now.”

Blinking a little, Jeremy passed over his phone.

Five minutes later, Faith had a date for that very night. Maybe this guy wouldn’t be g*y, married or view kissing her as a huge mistake.

And wouldn’t that be a nice change.

* * *

SHE AND BLUE STOPPED at the Old House, regretting it the second she walked into her grandparents’ back hall. “It’s coo-pon,” Goggy was saying, her voice laced with steel.

“I like cue-pon,” Pops said defiantly. Oh, lordy. Perhaps Faith could sneak out, undetected. She glanced down at Blue, whose doggy brow wrinkled at the sound of the bickering grands.

“We never said it like that before,” Goggy said. “Why are you changing it now? You sound ridiculous. It’s so pretentious.” Faith turned to leave, stealthy as a ninja.

“Cue-pon,” Pops said. “Faithie-bear, is that you? Come on in, honey!”

Busted. “Hi, guys! Oh, cookies! Can I have one?”

“Of course you can,” Goggy said. “Take three. Sweetheart, how do you say coupon? Hmm? It’s coo-pon, isn’t it?”

“I’ve heard it said both ways,” Faith said, opting to play Switzerland in this horribly important discussion. Moving out had definitely been the right choice. She took a bite of the cookie. Oh, yeah. Snickerdoodles. Three might not be enough.

“See, I’m French Canadian,” Pops said. “We say cue-pon up North.”

“Your parents came over from Utrecht! You had a great-uncle who lived in Quebec for a year. That doesn’t make you French Canadian!”

“Cue-pon.” Pops grinned, winking at Faith. The man was adorably evil. “How’s the barn?”

“It’s going to be rather gorgeous, if I do say so myself.”

“Of course it is, with you doing it.” Goggy pushed the plate of cookies toward her. Her grandparents had flown out to see the dedication of the Douglas Street Park and been simultaneously stunned and smug at her work (as well as concerned about her throat being slit in the big city).

The phone rang, and Goggy hurtled to answer it. “Oh, Betty, hi,” she said, taking the phone into the living room.

“So, Pops,” Faith said. “I was hoping to talk to you about your anniversary.”

“Anniversary of what?” he said, pouring some of the sauvignon blanc that had won the vineyard a silver medal last year.

“Your wedding anniversary. It’ll be sixty-five years next month.”

“And still I walk this earth, shackled to your grandmother by the chains of marriage.” He winked and poured her a glass, as well. Cookies and wine...looked like those fifteen pounds wouldn’t be going anywhere.

“Yeah, okay, but you love her, of course,” she prompted.

“Love, shmove,” he answered. “Love is for you young people.”

“How can you be married for sixty-five years and not love your wife?” She smiled, hoping to encourage him.

“I don’t know,” Pops said, giving a cookie to her dog, who swallowed it instantly. “I’m cursed?”

“You’re a horrible old man, that’s what you are,” she said, fixing his collar. “Admit it, Pops. You love Goggy.”

“I love this wine, that’s what I love. Do you like it?”

She took a sip. “Lemon, honeysuckle, a smidgeon of burnt marshmallow.”

“That’s my girl.”

“Anyway, I thought your anniversary would be a great way to dedicate the barn. A Holland family event, and such a milestone. I know Goggy would love it.”

“You want to throw us an anniversary party?”

“Absolutely! The leaves will still be beautiful, we could invite all your friends and colleagues, and it’d be a great way to have everyone see the new venue. The Barn at Blue Heron, the nice old Holland clan. What do you think?”