Page 13 of Better Luck Next Time

His expression seemed to ask,Are you for real?, but it slid into a grin. “Okay, you got me.”

“I couldn’t resist,” she said, then turned slightly to see a man walking past them on the sidewalk. “Him?” she whispered as an elderly man in a Hawaiian shirt walked by with a leashed miniature poodle.

He nodded, leaning closer. “Merv Singleton. Age sixty-two. Divorced.”

“Divorced?” she countered. “He has a wedding ring.”

“It’s still fresh,” he added hastily. “He can’t bear to take it off.”

“Well, at least you didn’t make him a widower,” she groused with a grin. “That would be morbid.”

“Hey, I’m new to this.”

“Why the Hawaiian shirt?” she asked.

He glanced over his shoulder for another look, then turned back to her. “Their honeymoon was to Hawaii.”

“And he’s been wearing Hawaiian shirts ever since? No wonder they’re divorced.”

He laughed, a full-throated laugh that brought a smile to her face.

“And the dog?” she asked.

“Fluffy belonged to his wife, Nancy. Merv won her in the divorce.”

“He stole her dog?” she asked in mock dismay. “He’s a monster.”

Finn sat back in his seat, accepting his defeat. “Yeah. You’re right. Merv deserved to be left.”

She laughed. “And you left off the other part. Where’s he going?”

“To his one-bedroom apartment so he can feed Fluffy lunch.” He thumbed behind him. “He’s returning to his miserable, lonely existence.”

“Wow,” she said, shaking her head. “Remind me to never play this game with you again, Debbie Downer.”

“At least my mind wasn’t in the gutter,” he teased. “Poor, poor Merv. I don’t know if he’ll ever get laid again.”

“Oh, I think he will,” she said, nodding past him.

He turned and they both watched as an older woman walked out of a knitting store, carrying a bag that readKnitters Come With Strings Attached. She gave “Merv” a saucy grin, and he swatted her behind. A woman came out behind her just in time to see it, and it was obvious she was swallowing laughter. With long, curly black hair and a bold red and blue skirt, she didn’t fit Adalia’s image of a knitter. Not that she had anything other than respect for knitters, but this woman looked like she should be dancing flamenco in the streets of Barcelona, not sitting with a cup of chamomile and a lap full of yarn. Sure, she was thinking of her mother’s knitting habits—for all she knew some people knitted to death metal—but she couldn’t help herself. The bulging bag the woman held said her habit was serious. Adalia was tempted to use her for another round of the game, if only because she was interesting, but she held back for some reason, her gaze returning to Merv.

“I want to be like them when I get old,” she said wistfully.

“And have as many knitting supplies as your heart desires?” Finn asked, his eyes dancing.

She glanced at him, wondering if he’d noticed the lovely woman—hadn’t Georgie told her he was a well-known womanizer?—but his gaze was firmly on Adalia.

“Maybe that’syourdream,” she countered. “And besides, Merv had Fluffy, so he wasn’treallyalone. Dogs are man’s best friend, you know. Have you spent much time with Hops? He’s adorable. Who could be lonely with a little guy like that around?”

“What, Beau’s cat doesn’t strike your fancy?”

“Don’t get me wrong,” she said. “I respect a lady who knows her own mind, but sometimes it feels like that house is too small for two ladies who fit that description. Dogs are different. Besides, she’s on another walkabout. River says the neighbors are blowing up his phone again.”

He looked a little chastened, probably at the memory of the last time Jezebel had come home after an extended leave of absence. It had happened the night he spilled the details of the will. He opened his mouth to say something, but a buzzing sound came from his pants pocket. Pulling his phone out, he glanced at the screen, then stood.

“I’ve got to take this call, but I’ll concede this round to you.” He tipped his head to the side. “Rematch sometime?”

She stared at him like he’d grown tusks. Was he asking her out on a date?

---