Page 15 of Resisting the Grump

“I’m not interested in dating Colin.”

“Why not?” he asked. “He’s a great guy.”

“I’m sure he is, but you’re only trying to slough him off on me so you and Grace have more alone time.”

His guilty expression proved my accusation wasn’t completely unwarranted.

“Besides, I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to date a lonely child.”

“I think you mean only.”

I shot him a look. “I know what I said.”

“Harsh, Avery. Colin is a grown-up.”

“I know,” I said. “He told me as much… along with everyone else in shouting distance at his lake house last summer after nearly breaking his neck doing a keg stand.”

Noah’s lips crumpled in defeat. “So maybe he’s not the one.”

“I appreciate your interest in the cobwebs growing over my cold, defensive heart, but I’m mildly offended by your pathetic attempt to marry me off.”

“Take it as a compliment,” he said. “If I didn’t think you were cool, I wouldn’t try and set you up with my best friend.”

Damn. Right when I thought I’d finally caught Noah being a selfish jerk, he reveals himself to be the nice guy he plays on TV. Ugh.

“So what are you looking for?” he asked. “Since it’s not handsome dentists with sick lake houses?”

“Are you wearing a wire?” I asked, leaning away from him. “Is Colin here right now?” I pretended to look around even though I knew the demographic profile of this festival was far from his scene.

“I’m being serious.”

For the first time all weekend, I actually wished someone would grab the mic and say more about baked goods. “I want someone who needs me but isn’t needy.” It just came out and the truth of it shook me to my core.

“Wow.”

“I know,” I said. “I’m fucked.”

“I blame your parents.”

“Me too,” I joked, thinking it would lighten the mood. After all, Noah didn’t know that dating was a depressing subject for me lately. But deep down, I wondered if what I said was true. Was that what I wanted? Someone who wasn’t needy to need me? It sounded about right, and yet, it felt all wrong. Not to mention impossible. Why had I blurted that? Why couldn’t I keep my crazy to myself?

I was about to take it all back when the round judge with the helmet of mouse-brown curls took the mic and started shushing the jittery crowd in the noisy tent. Noah and I faced forward again, giving me a perfect opportunity to admire Oliver Harrington’s bone structure and… God, what I’d give to be a morsel melting on his sharp tongue.

Was he flirting with me the other day? It was hard to tell, especially after Noah pointed out that he probably wasn’t here out of the goodness of his heart. I’d hate to convince myself he wanted to get in my pants when his kindness was purely PR related.

I straightened up in my chair, pretending to be completely preoccupied by the Cake Café’s last chance to win a much-coveted Star Baker award, but my mind kept wandering toward the tall, dark, and devilish judge at the edge of the stage. I mean, hypothetically, if he did want to get in my pants, would I consider letting him in there?

I bet he was the one guy whose dirty talk wouldn’t make me laugh out loud.

Then again, I’d been doing such a good job respecting my unspoken vow to stop jumping into bed with jerks.

But that was the problem.

My attraction to him had absolutely nothing to do with respect. Not for him and certainly not for me. If I had my way, we could enthusiastically degrade each other in a delicious, no-strings-attached kind of way, and he’d never need to breathe a word to anyone about his visit to Avery’s Box Spring Café.

But my active imagination was a liability. Most likely, the guy played an asshole on TV because he truly was one. So no matter what happened when I called him—strictly on behalf of the needy kids at Hudson House—I would play it cool.

Like the cucumber I bet he was hiding in his pants.

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