Page 13 of Just a Distraction

“Where did you go to college?”

“New York. Columbia University. But that’s not relevant to this.”

She whistles. “Columbia, huh? Ritzy spitzy. I’m impressed.”

“Don’t be. My dad and most of my brothers went there. They paved the way . . . A.K.A. my dad is in the booster club.”

Her brows rise. “I have so many questions.”

“Like about my favorite team, or . . .?”

“Your family. You said most of your brothers. How many do you have?”

“Five.” I hit my forehead. “Six!”

She raises her eyebrows like I’m crazy. “That’s cool. I’d like to shake your parents’ hands. Having so many babies? That’s commendable.”

“Yeah. It is. I liked growing up in a big family. What about you? Any siblings?”

“Two sisters and a brother, but we’re not done discussing you. And do you really think they just let you into an Ivy League school because of who your father is? Are you rich or something?”“I’m a recent college graduate, so no. But my parents do pretty well.”

She snorts. “Evasive, I see. Got it.” She begins walking to the ice-cream parlor again, hands shoved in the pockets of her jean jacket. I rush to join her.

“So, you went to college in New York,” she tosses over her shoulder. “You’re a Giants fan.”

“Please. I think I’m gonna be sick. Although I feel like I’m learning more about you than you’re learning about me. You’re a very opinionated person.”

Her tongue darts out to moisten her lips. “I’ve had to be. To not get totally walked all over my whole life.” Before I can ask her more, she goes on. “I’m feeling Texas vibes. But the question is which one? Are you a Cowboy or a Wolf?”

I stare at her. She narrowed it down. How did she do that so quickly? Before I can respond, she answers her own question.

“A Wolf.” She glances at my mouth. “In more ways than one.” A brow snakes up her forehead as she watches for my reaction.

Before I can get my brain up to speed, she goes past me and enters the parlor.

Once inside the fifties-style soda shop, she orders a large salted-caramel double-scoop in a waffle cone. I order the same thing, only in Rocky Road. She tries to pay, and there’s a bit of harmless tapping, swiping at, and pushing each other’s card-holding hands. I win and manage to insert my card first.

She seems genuinely miffed.

As we wait, we’re quiet as we gaze at the intricate designs painted on the walls. Studying the traditional cartoon strips eases the attention away from the intensity between us.

Once our ice-cream cones have been scooped up and served, we sit in the far corner, pink plush booth. It’s almost closing time and the place is nearly empty. There’s only one other couple with a baby sitting in the other corner.

“Can I take your jacket? You must be hot.”

“No!” She tugs it tighter around her. “I’m fine.”

I catch a glimpse of her as she takes a big lick of her ice cream and have to clear my throat and look away. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to get ice-cream cones. Would it have been better if it had been in a bowl with a spoon? Because the way she’s using her mouth and tongue right now is . . .

“So, what about you?” I ask around licks of ice cream. “I want to try to guess your favorite team.”

“So I was right, huh?”

“It’s sort of a family obligation to like the Wolves. In a way.” Alec, the brother just older than me, got hurt, so his career with them was cut short. But I’m loyal.

I’m probably loyal to a fault, come to think of it. Thus the employment stress and the inability to choose who to work for in the family. I did an internship over the summer, which gave me a reprieve from having to decide. Now? Time’s pretty much up.

My gaze takes her in. Again. I hope she doesn’t realize how much my heart speeds up with every bite of ice cream she takes. And it’s not like she’s trying to seduce me. She’s getting it on her chin and nose and pulling funny faces when she realizes it.

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