Page 69 of Fire

“He’s nice. He just doesn’t do anything for me.”

“Blake’s kind of a tough act to follow.” Gwen shot her a dirty look, and Allie’s hand flew to cover her mouth so her next words were muffled. “Sorry, I meant, he-who-shall-not-be-named is a tough act to follow.”

Gwen nudged her with a shoulder. “Just help me pick something.”

“What about this?” Allie pulled a dark-blue Ralph Lauren down.

“Perfect.” A scooped neck that didn’t show cleavage and capped sleeves made it classy yet prim and just the look she was going for.

“So where are you going?” Gwen asked, stepping into the dress and giving Allie her back so she could zip her.

“Un Pensierino.”

“Ooh, isn’t that the new Italian place that opened up on Melrose?”

“Yep. It’s nearly impossible to get a reservation, but Dillan pulled it off.”

“Lucky.”

“And he may get lucky.” Allie laughed.

Gwen spritzed behind her ears then put the cap back on her perfume bottle. “Come on, let’s go to the kitchen and have a glass of wine while we wait. I have a feeling I’m going to need it.”

Rico’s was a trendy restaurant with a six-course tasting menu celebrating a different seasonal ingredient each month. One never knew quite what to expect and that made it a favorite hot-spot for local foodies.

Jason had arrived to pick her up at seven o’clock on the dot. She’d imagined him standing at her door waiting for the minute hand on his watch to strike the hour before knocking. Finding that amusing, her smile had been genuine when she’d opened the door.

Allie had still been around, waiting on Dillan who’d called and said he was running late. She’d hovered like a mother hen until Gwen had introduced her, and as they’d been walking out the door, Gwen had gotten the bestie thumbs-up sign of approval.

Not that she needed it. This date would be their first and last. It wasn’t that Jason wasn’t good looking, especially in the thin, light-blue cashmere sweater he wore that did great things to his eyes. And it wasn’t that he wasn’t courteous and polite—opening doors and holding her chair out. He was just too young. A year younger than herself, he was still cocky—and not in a sexy way—and too full of himself. He had an air about him that Gwen knew, given time, he’d grow out of. She just wasn’t interested in waiting it out.

It was right after the appetizer—tender scallops nestled on a bed of greens and topped with a creamy avocado sauce—and while they were waiting for the salad course that her phone beeped with a text. Worried it was Allie, she discreetly reached into her purse and set her phone in her lap.

Jason was going on about his year-long stint at Harvard—insert eye-roll—and was oblivious she’d stopped paying attention.

And why had she stopped paying attention? Because it wasn’t Allie who’d texted.

It was Blake.

Staring down at her phone in a state of astonishment, she read and then reread—because she couldn’t believe what she’d read the first time—the words that were on the screen.

Come to the front of the restaurant. Now.

She whipped her head around but couldn’t see the entrance from where she sat and didn’t spy Blake.

“Everything okay?”

She turned her attention back to Jason. “Yes. Thought I felt a draft. Sorry, please continue.”

He glanced at the ceiling but then launched back into his story about some party at a sorority house and too much alcohol.

She quickly typed out a response.

Are you crazy? I’m on a date.

Excuse yourself and come here now. Unless you’d like me to make a scene by coming to get you.

No, she wouldn’t like that.

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