Page 42 of The Wrong Date Deal

“What?”

Piper handed her the phone and watched as August read the message that had come in while they’d been out, walking in the snow together. A message that asked if she wanted to meet up next week.

“Sometimes, one message will get you a whole date,” Piper said.

“Apparently.” She huffed slightly. “No reply for days, and then this happens? I swear it’s just the universe trying to make fun of me.”

“It is not. It’s just a weird coincidence—and it’s someone, correctly, wanting to go on a date with you.”

“So… you think I should say yes?”

Piper sat up and looked at August. “You don’t want to?”

“Ugh. I don’t know.” She stood up and held out a hand to Piper. “What I want right now is a hot drink and some food. I’ll decide after that.”

Piper took her hand and pulled her back into the kitchen. “Reasonable. Never make decisions on an empty stomach.”

“I think that’s when you’re shopping.”

“Doesn’t mean it’s not advice for life.” Piper started pulling out mugs and paused to look at August. “We can talk opening lines after we eat.”

“Oh, you mean when I’ll have about ten other messages?”

Piper laughed. “Maybe. Nothing wrong with sending that energy out into the world so everyone can get back to you right now.”

August shook her head. “Fantastic.”

Chapter Ten

Piper’s place was nice. The shared areas were light and open, but with rich burgundy accents that August could only assume had been added by Piper and Massima. Her room, however, had a different feel altogether. It was warm, modern browns, a thick fabric covering on the wall behind her bed, and the opposite wall was filled with shelves of music—CDs, tapes, records. She had them all, and the players to go with them. Somehow, she’d managed to make the space feel luxurious and cohesive rather than cluttered, despite all of the music on display.

It was the kind of room you got an incredible night’s sleep in. And the sublime mattress she had on her bed only added to that. When August had been lying on it, she’d been thinking about how it was even better than the one she’d spent a good month researching and purchasing.

“What does Massima do?” August asked as she sat at the kitchen table and watched Piper dish spaghetti into handcrafted stoneware bowls.

Piper glanced over her shoulder at August. “Interior designer. Why?”

August smiled. That made sense. “Just curious. Your place is very… put together.”

Piper laughed. “Yeah. It was a bright white canvas when we moved in. Which is fine, but it was that almost clinical version of white. Every single thing was the exact same shade. Cold, you know?”

“Well, it’s not cold now.”

She glanced around her own kitchen as if seeing it for the first time again. “Yeah. We’re lucky they were pretty chill about what we wanted to do—so long as it doesn’t wreck the property value and can be returned to white when we move out.”

“So you let an interior designer go ham?”

She shrugged slightly as she carried their bowls to the table. “Kind of, yeah. I mean, I was plenty involved, but Massima was great at knowing exactly which textures we needed and where. All those things the professionals know.”

“So, now, you get to live in a model home.”

She laughed. “I guess. Bit more lived-in than a show home, don’t you think?”

“I do.” August glanced around. “I like this better.”

“Me too. Predictably, I suppose.”

While they ate, Piper didn’t say anything about the app or the reply August had gotten, but August knew it was a topic they were coming back to. Indeed, once they were done and August had insisted on clearing the plates, Piper made them drinks, led August back into the living room, and grinned mischievously.

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