Page 63 of An Introvert's Guide to Life and Love
“Okay, good.” I’m pleased with myself. Maybe I really am getting to know him.
He picks up one of the cards and makes soft noises of approval, like he’s my dad and I’m a kindergartner.
“So, who do you want at this shindig?” I ask. “Other than family. I’m going to invite Angela, but I wasn’t sure who else.”
“Ah.” He holds up one finger, bustles off to the kitchen, and returns with a notepad and pen. “I can give you some names and their unit numbers.” He jots down several names and then pauses. “It’ll be nice to reconnect with some old chums.”
My chest fills with a warm glow. I definitely made the right decision by telling him.
“Remember,” I say with a stern voice, “you have to act surprised. Mom and Trish would kill me if they thought I ruined their surprise party.”
“You mean like this?” Gramps drops his pen, his hands flying to his cheeks as he utters a small scream.
I double over with laughter. “That’s perfect. Do it just like that.”
Chapter 23
I’m sitting in Gramps’s car, applying a coat of a CVS lipstick that’s supposed to be a Charlotte Tilbury dupe, when Daniel rides up on his bike. I glance at the clock on the dashboard: It’s exactly nine o’clock. Impressive. It feels early to me—the breakfast room had been bustling when I arrived there an hour earlier than usual—but the parking lot of the Floor Emporium is as crowded as though it were midday.
I step out of the car, clutching my Starbucks iced coffee in one hand (an actual Starbucks: one of the perks of driving all the way into St. Pete).
“I cannot believe you biked all the way here.”
He flashes a grin as he removes his helmet, his red hair sticking up.
“Easy ride. Barely took more than half an hour.” I follow him as he locks his bike to the rack outside the automatic doors of the Floor Emporium. He’s wearing his usual black biking shorts and white T-shirt. It takes all of my self-control to prevent my gaze from flicking down to his thighs.
“Aren’t you afraid of…” I twirl my iced coffee for embellishment. He gives me a quizzical look. “Like, getting flattened by all the cars?”
He presses his lips together like he’s trying not to laugh at me.“It’s not high on my list. Poisonous snakes, climate change, riptides, cancer. Those are higher.”
I have no response to this. All I can manage is a small “right.”
“You should really try it,” Daniel continues. “If only to get around our little town. Isn’t this your grandpa’s car?”
“Yeah, but he never uses it. Besides, if I were biking, where would I freshen my lipstick?”
Daniel gestures to the round rearview mirror clipped to one of his handles, showing it off like a game-show hostess. This makes me laugh.
“And the helmet hair?” I press. “I don’t know, Daniel.”
“I don’t think you have anything to worry about in the hair department.” He says it nonchalantly, leading the way into the store. I’m glad he’s ahead of me, because now I’m blushing furiously, and simultaneously very pleased that I wore my hair down this morning.
“Oh my…” As soon as we walk in, I’m overwhelmed. This place is huge, filled with slabs of tile and planks of wood and rows and rows of linoleum squares. If I had come here by myself, I would’ve just turned around and walked out.
“You’ve done this before?” I confirm.
Daniel slows his pace next to a gorgeous slab of white marble. “Of course. I help clients with stuff like this all the time. And I redid my own place a few years back.”
“Did you hire someone to do your floors?” I ask.
He gives me a look that somehow insinuates that this is a silly question and do I really think he wouldn’t do his own floors?
“No,” he answers. The look, and the one-word answer, are filled with so much manly confidence that I have to suppress a nervous giggle. I slurp my iced coffee.
“I like this one.” I drape myself over a block of pale, creamy marble with pink highlights.
“Oh yeah?” He smirks, probably at the fact that I’ve chosen the girliest floor they have. “Do you have an extra five hundred grand lying around?”
