Page 53 of My Casanova

Yarder made it seem easy—like keeping an ol’ lady happy was just following a few rules. But Dani wasn’t like Poppy. She was different. She was... complicated.

Or maybe I was the one who was making this complicated.

I took a slow sip and let the burn of the alcohol slide down my throat.

Tomorrow.

I would call her tomorrow.

Chapter Twenty-Three

It was Thursday, and he didn’t call.

Look out, Queen Latifah, here I come.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Dani

I stared at Stan. My phone sat on the counter between us like a ticking time bomb.

“Call him,” he repeated and crossed his arms over his chest.

I sighed. “If he wanted to talk to me, he would have called.”

Stan thinned his lips and shook his head. “Yeah, but he’s a man. You need to be the one to call him. You guys are acting like high schoolers.”

“High schoolers?” I squeaked. “And it’s not me. He’s the one who said he’d call, and he hasn’t.”

Without warning, Stan snatched my phone off the counter and tapped away at the screen. A second later, the shop phone rang, and he looked at me expectantly.

I picked up the receiver. “Hello, Wine and Cheese Me.”

Stan held my phone up to his ear. “Call him,” he declared into it, and his voice echoed back through the shop phone.

“What are you doing?” I laughed.

Stan ended the call and tossed my phone back onto the counter. “Just checking to see if your phone was broken or something. Turns out, it works. You’re just avoiding it.”

I rolled my eyes and hung up the shop phone. “You’re ridiculous.”

“No, you and Smoke are ridiculous.” He shook his head dramatically. “Love makes people stupid sometimes. You two are made for each other, and instead of running together like two puffins, you’re acting like hummingbirds.”

I blinked at him. “Stan, you’re gonna have to explain that one.”

“Atlantic puffins mate for life, Dani,” he said as if it was common knowledge. “Hummingbirds, on the other hand... well, they’re promiscuous.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Are you calling Smoke promiscuous?”

“No!” he groaned and rubbed his face. “I meant you’re both flitting around instead of settling in. Don’t twist my words.”

My mind betrayed me and drifted to Vince—my ex-husband and a prime example of a promiscuous hummingbird.

“Don’t go there,” Stan warned as he read me too well. “Smoke is not Vince.”

“Then why doesn’t he want me at the clubhouse?” I demanded.

“Because he doesn’t want you to deal with the cameras and attention. He’s trying to protect you.”

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