Page 49 of Sweatpants & Sweet Tea

I nodded as my gaze shot to the farmhouse next door. Daphne’s hair was piled up on top of her head, and she was wearing an oversized white T-shirt. I wondered if it was the same white T-shirt she’d worn when we’d gone down to the pond.

“Okay, Harlan, what are the top five qualities you're looking for in a partner?” Lydia asked.

My eyes once again shot over to Daphne, but I quickly looked back at Lydia. “Someone kind, ambitious, nurturing, has a good sense of humor, is honest, and affectionate.”

Lydia’s nose scrunched. “That was six.”

“Sorry.”

“No worries. And I noticed that none of your top six qualities were anything physical.”

My left shoulder lifted in a shrug. “I don’t have a type. Obviously, I have to be attracted to someone, but all of my exes look different.”

“Well, just for the sake of argument, if youhadto create an avatar of your perfect woman, what would she look like?”

“Five foot four, honey blonde hair, blue eyes, a beautiful smile, full lips, and pinup curves.”

“Wow.” Lydia’s eyes widened. “That was fast and specific.”

My eyes shot back to the sunroom.

Yes. Yes, it was.

23

DAPHNE

As I steppedout of the shower, my phone rang. I knew from the sound that it was a Facetime call. Only one person has ever Facetimed me.

Alexandra.

If I ignored her, she’d just keep calling back.

With ninja speed and agility, I bent over and twisted a towel around my head, then stood back up and quickly wrapped my towel around my upper body and secured it in place before picking up the phone and answering the call.

“Hi!” My voice and expression were ten times cheerier than I felt.

“I saw the dailies from the first date. You two have as much chemistry as a wet mop.”

Typically, when it came to feedback regarding my on-camera work, I was Teflon; whatever insult was directed toward me just rolled right off. Nothing stuck. But this time, I felt myself getting defensive, and I wasn’t sure why.

Did it have something to do with the fact that the entire date I’d felt like I was cheating on Harlan Mitchell? Nah. That couldn’t be it.

“Sorry,” my apology was clipped and curt. “They can’t all be winners.”

“Elias Russell is a dreamy doctor with size fourteen feet and a full head of hair, and you acted as if he had the sex appeal of a hobbit.”

“Hobbits are cute,” I said in the way of a very weak defense.

“Do not play games with me. You know what I mean. Get over whatever is going on with you.” She waved her hand in front of the screen, then snapped her fingers like I was a child. “Stop pouting and grow up.”

With those two instructions, the screen went back to my screensaver, which was my someday golden retriever puppy.

Some of my colleagues took their four-legged, furry children to doggy daycare, which I’d considered more than once, but always felt like it would be too shitty to do. It wasn’t just my typical nine-to-five, which was more like seven-to-seven; I traveled for work. A lot. Getting a puppy would be selfish. So, my screensaver puppy would have to do.

I unwrapped the towel on my head, grabbed the hair dryer, bent at the waist, and began drying the underside of my hair. As I did, my mind kept repeating Alexandra’s instructions in my head.

Stop pouting and grow up.

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