Page 28 of Four Steps to the Perfect Fake Date

“Uh-huh,” Ellie said, wiping the tears from her eyes.

“So,” Wynn started, leaning in, “is he any good?”

“Good at what?” Daphne screeched.

The two other women wiggled their brows. It was Ellie who said, “You know.”

“Good at police work?” Daphne filled in, baring her teeth at them. “Debatable. Good at being a pain in my ass? Absolutely.”

Ellie clicked her tongue and shook her head. “You better get your story straight, Daphne, because this has already spread all over the island.”

The bar door slammed open, and Grandma Mabel and the rest of her gang strode in. Without a moment’s hesitation, they made their way to Daphne at the bar.

Grandma Mabel crowed, squeezing Daphne’s upper arms. “Good girl,” she said. “I knew you had a little fire hidden in there.”

“Grandma, you’ve got the wrong idea. This is all getting blown out of proportion. Nothing happened between me and Flint.”

“So you weren’t wearing his clothes this morning?”

“Well, yes, but—”

“How do you feel about a joint wedding? You and your sister, together?”

“What? No!”

Grandma Mabel nodded. “You’re right. You should each get your own time to shine.”

“Shame about his family,” Harry cut in. “You think Calvin would want to invite them? Maybe you can elope.”

“We aren’t getting married!” Daphne shouted, then sank her head between her shoulders as half the bar glanced over.

“Good for you,” Greta said, patting Daphne’s hand. “Better to have fun while you’re young. Why should men be the only ones allowed to sow their wild oats?”

“Exactly,” Grandma Mabel said with a decisive nod. “Now. How was it?”

“It was nothing,” Daphne hissed. Her face was so hot she was sure it was beet red. Her hands were clammy, and the speed of her pulse couldn’t be healthy. “Nothing happened.”

“Well, that’s too bad,” Greta said with a frown. “He didn’t get you off? Even after you flashed the whole street for him?”

“That’s not what happened!”

“That’s not what I heard,” Grandma Mabel said, blue eyes gleaming.

Meanwhile, Ellie and Wynn were choking on their laughter, doubled over as each clung to the other’s shoulders for support.

Daphne buried her face in her hands and groaned, then straightened her spine. “We were talking to Jerry Barela. My shirt ripped. The sheriff offered me his spare uniform. I gave it back before heading inside.”

“Rhonda told me you were wearing someveryrisqué undergarments, honey,” Grandma said, then slung her arm around Daphne’s shoulders. “That makes me happy. Every woman ought to have beautiful underthings. The fact that Calvin Flint is the lucky guy who gets to see them is beside the point.”

“He doesn’t ‘get to see them,’” Daphne protested. “He saw them due to unforeseen circumstances. And wait. Rhonda? Is she the one who’s been spreading lies about me?”

Rhonda Roberts owned the most popular ice cream shop on the island. She was a lovely woman, but Daphne wouldn’t hesitate to give her a piece of her mind for spreading malicious lies.

“She saw your bra from her living room window,” Grandma Mabel said. “Can you blame her? She said the sheriff looked thunderstruck. Red lace will do that to a man, though.”

“I’m going to kill her,” Daphne said through clenched teeth.

“Shame he’s so bad at making love,” Greta added. “I wouldn’t expect that from such a strapping young man.”

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