Page 4 of The Problem with Dating

“What’s that?”

“The moment it was over. Remind me never to make a bet with you during a game of Scrabble.”

“You do know I’m the champion of that game. You made a grave mistake thinking you could beat me.”

She rolled her eyes. “Shut up, Yara.”

I smirked, knowing my sister’s grumpiness only made me love her more. Every Tigger needed an Eeyore. Well, I didn’t even claim to be Tigger—that was Willow’s role. She had an amount of energy I couldn’t grasp even if I’d downed ten espressos. She was our Tigger. I was more so a Pooh Bear, if anything. I often avoided wearing pants at home, a little naive and a stickler for honey—especially when drizzled on avocado toast.

“I think hiking is growing on you,” I mentioned, nudging her.

“I have enough blisters on my feet to prove that point,” she replied. Just as she spoke, a car with a U-Haul hitched to the back drove past us. Avery grimaced more than before. “Have you noticed an upswing of new people moving into town? It seems odd to me.”

“Our little Honey Creek is growing.”

“I hate growth.”

“You hate everything.”

“Fair.”

“Seeing people and businesses entering town is a little exciting,” I said. Especially if they had penises, no wedding bands, andzeroclue about who Cole Parker was.

She gestured across the street. “You call this exciting? It’s giving ‘bringing the city to small town’ vibes.”

Across the street from Peter’s Café was the old movie theater. Well, it used to be the old theater before being transformed into a fancy-pants restaurant that would open any day now. It was called Isla Iberia, and it was the most bizarre thing that existed in our town. Don’t get me wrong, it was a beautiful building. It just felt out of place.

“One of these things is not like the other,” Avery sang with a deep bass tone. “It’s a bit pretentious, don’t you think?” she asked, staring across the street at the new restaurant. “A hair over-the-top.”

“An eyesore,” I playfully agreed at the multistory restaurant. Since when did restaurants have more than one level? Who did the owner think we were? Chicago?

“An atrocity,” she said.

“A blot on the landscape.”

“I bet they use cloth napkins instead of paper towels.”

I shivered at the thought. “I bet people can’t wear jeans to enter.”

“Have you met the owner, Alex? Seeing as how he’s your business neighbor, I figured you might’ve crossed paths.”

“No. I haven’t. I’ve seen him here and there, but we haven’t spoken. He lives in my apartment building, too. I noticed him leaving with a gym bag on his shoulder this morning.” He was quite attractive, too, with dark features. His deep, coffee eyes matched his messy brown hair and beard. He didn’t smile as much as JoshJake. I wasn’t certain Alex Ramírez knew how to smile at all. Yet the fact that two extremely good-looking men were in my apartment building wasverypromising.

Avery rolled her eyes. “Another morning workout freak. Wonderful.” She combed her runaway hair strands out of her face. “I heard the guy is a total jerk. Mary Sue ran into him last week. She said he called her a see-you-next-Tuesday after she called him a piece of shit for ruining our town. Can you believe that? Sweet Mary Sue being called such a mean name.”

I laughed, knowing my sister’s words were bathed in sarcasm. The only thing sweet about Mary Sue was her pit bull named Star.

“Dad said others have been giving him a hard time in town, too. Some kids have been vandalizing the place,” I said. “I feel bad for the guy.”

Imagine trying to bring your dream to life and everyone giving you an awful welcome. People like Mary Sue West gave small towns a bad rep.

“It is weird, though,” Avery continued. “He could open a spot anywhere based on how fancy this restaurant is. I looked him up. He has four other exceptionally successful spots opened in the US. Two of them have Michelin stars. They don’t hand those out to anyone.”

Thatwasstrange. How did he even know about a small town like Honey Creek? Most people overlooked our home as they headed straight to Chicago. We were hardly a blip on anyone’s radar.

“It’s not every day a Michelin-star chef opens a restaurant in Honey Creek, Illinois,” I agreed.

“Things are changing around these parts,” Avery commented with a look of disappointment. “Did you hear about the stoplight that’s going up next week?”

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