Page 49 of The Small-Town Seduction Plan

“No,” I whimper, “Don’t come in!”

But the door is already open. Duke looks down at me with concern. “You OK?”

I shake my head.

“Aww, princess.” It’s the first time he’s called me that and not sounded like an insult. Duke crouches down, handing me a bottle of water, and a damp facecloth.

“Thanks,” I mutter pitifully.

“You know, I figured the date wasn’t going well,” Duke comments, sitting back against the wall opposite me. “But I’ve never made a woman sick to her stomach before.”

“Don’t joke,” I wail. “If I laugh, I’m going to vomit again.”

Duke chuckles. “Sorry. If it helps, you were very neat about it,” he offers. “And you get bonus points for making out of the truck in time.”

“That’s me,” I groan. “Beauty, grace, and high scores in the bodily function department.”

I wish the earth would just open and swallow me right up, but nope– I’m still crumpled on the bathroom floor.

It’s a good floor, I notice: black-and-white checkerboard tile, and a whole vintage feel. I lift my head. “You know, this is a cute bathroom,” I tell him. “For a guy.”

“Gee, thanks,” Duke smirks. “What were you expecting: watermarks around the tub, and a threadbare towel in the corner?”

“You’d be surprised.” I give a dark laugh. “I dated this guy once, a big-deal agent, million-dollar deals, right? I go back to his place, and there’s nothing in any of the bathrooms: no towels, no toilet paper, nothing… except an industrial pack of gross brown paper towels. I mean, Costco size, there must have been a thousand of them, just teetering in a stack in the corner!”

Duke chuckles. “What did you do?”

“What any self-respecting woman would do,” I reply archly. “I marched right out and insisted we check into the Beverly Hills Hotel for the night. A girl has to have standards. And yes,” I add with a wince. “I get the irony of that particular statement right now.”

Duke looks at me. “So, was that why you didn’t marry your ex?” he asks, his expression unreadable. “He didn’t meet your high standards?”

“Robert? Ha!” I snort. “His mansion had ten bathrooms, all beautifully designed, and stocked with the finest French spa products by the amazing housekeeping staff. They were great bathrooms,” I sigh wistfully. “Deep tubs, a view of the city…”

“So why’d you break it off?”

I shrug. “Why does anyone make an irrational decision? Love,” I reply, “or, in my case, the absence of it. I wanted to hold out for something real. Which seems real stupid right about now,” I add, gloomy.

“Nope,” Duke says, shooting me a quiet smile. “It sounds real brave to me.”

I blink. Our eyes lock across the bathroom floor, and I feel my stomach flip.

The good kind, this time.

Then Duke’s smile fades. “We, uh, didn’t eat the same thing back at the restaurant, did we?”

“Nope,” I tell him, sipping water. “At least, nothing except…”

We both look at each other.

“The scallops!”

Duke looks queasy. “Excuse me,” he says, surprisingly polite, and then lunges from the room. I hear him race down the hall, and then there’s a slamming door, and a miserable-sounding groan.

Yup, I think, sinking back with a sigh. We really did it.

The worst fake date of all time.

13

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