Page 1 of Borrow My Heart

Rule:Never date a guy you just met. He could just as likely be a sociopath as a nice guy.

“Hey,” I said, sliding my beach tote off my shoulder and onto the checkered tile floor of the coffee shop. “I thought you were off atfour.”

Kamala, my best friend, sighed from behind the register. “Lewis called in sick, so Meg asked if I would stay.”

“Your mean boss asked you to stay and you said, ‘Screw Wren, of course I can stay.’ ”

“Shh!” She looked over her shoulder toward the back hall, then flicked something off the counter at me. “I know, I’m messing up your perfectly planned afternoon.”

Her ammunition hit my shoulder, then landed on the ground. “What was that?” I squinted at the floor. “A piece of muffin?”

“Chocolate chip.” The coffee shop where Kamala worked also sold baked goods, displayed behind lit glass.

I picked up the chocolate chip and tossed it in the trash. “When are you off?”

“Six.”

“Six? You don’t want to go to the beach anymore?” There went my afternoon plans.

She rolled her eyes. “It’s not like you were going to get in the water anyway, Ocean Hater.”

“I put my feet in! Do you know how many predators live in the ocean?”

“Notyourpredators, Wren.”

“You’re the one who showed me that video of the whale swallowing a kayaker.”

“She was just in the way of real food. It spit her out.”

“It spit her out?That’syour swim-in-the-ocean pitch? I’m good, thanks.” I tugged out my ponytail holder and redid my messy bun in the reflection of a framed photo of a surfboard hanging on the wall. “What about that great white that ate that man six months ago right here on our beach? It’s still out there with the taste of human blood in its mouth.”

“You’re more likely to get struck by lightning than attacked by a shark.”

“And you don’t see me walking around with a metal rod, doyou?”

Kamala shook her head. “The beach will still exist in a couple hours, you know. We can go watch the sunset, bury our feet in the sand. It will be so romantic,” she teased. “It’s been a while since you’ve had that in your life.”

“Ithasbeen a while since I’ve had sand all over my feet.”

She ignored my sarcasm. “How long ago was Phillip, anyway?Last year? Not that he ever made it to boyfriend status. It’s your stupid list of rules. Nobody will ever measure up.”

“Then I guess I’ll die alone.” I smirked and walked to my favorite table, tucked around the corner from the register, out of the way. This little nook of the café had tall wood bookshelves filled with knickknacks, potted plants, and a dozen or so self-help books (most about cultivating a positive attitude through yoga or bird-watching or self-hypnosis). If I was hanging out here for a couple of hours, I could read while Kamala helped customers. Reading was one of the things I had planned for the beach anyway. It wasn’t that I couldn’t go with the flow of a new schedule…okay, it sort of was. I liked my life planned. It ran better that way.

The bell on the door dinged and two guys, who I could just make out through the broad-leafed plant on the counter, walked in. I slunk into a chair. One of the guys was holding his phone as if he was taking a selfie. But then he started talking.

“Today is the moment of truth, Asher. Here, in this cheesy beach-themed coffee shop”—he pointed his phone at a big seashell plastered to the wall—“I will be proven right and you will be sad you ever made an official bet with me.”

The guy without the phone—Asher, apparently—gave a good-natured smile as the phone was pointed at him, and approached the counter.

I had not been planning on staying, so I was wearing leggings and a sweatshirt over my swimsuit. I slouched deeper into the chair and pretended to look through my bag as the two guys orderedcoffee.

“You didn’t have to come,” Asher said. He was a lanky white guy wearing glasses and a beanie. He produced a twenty-dollar bill out of his pocket and handed it to Kamala.

“But then how would I record your humiliation for future generations?” Phone Guy was taller and wore aStar WarsT-shirt and Docs. And he wasstillrecording. “Besides, you think this little girl is going to save you from internet predators?” He nodded toward Kamala.

“Littlewoman,” she corrected in her sassy yet disarming way. “And I won’t.” She handed him the receipt with a pile of change sitting on top. “We don’t even have a panic button here.”

Phone Guy finally lowered his phone. “You shouldn’t volunteer that information to strangers.”

---