Page 42 of A Very Un-Shakespeare Romance
“Well, it’s like pigeon shit in the park. No one wants it, but it doesn’t mean you don’t embrace the good luck it brings.”
He’d lived in Boston long enough to have heard that one from Italian Americans. “We Irish Americans don’t believe getting crapped on is good luck.”
She walked over to the coffee pot and poured him a cup. “No, but you believe in leprechauns and pots of gold under rainbows, so you shouldn’t really judge, should you?”
He took the coffee and drank it slowly, his eyes widening at how strong it was. “Somehow I don’t think you really believe in tall tales.”
Leaning her elbows on the counter, she gave a short smile. “You’re right. I’m an accountant. I like numbers and data. They’re straight up and straightforward like me. Do you like the coffee?”
He imagined Summer had shared his profession with her, so he decided he could be straightforward too. “The guys in my precinct make coffee like this. Practically pops your eyeballs out of the socket.”
“It’s my recipe for getting through tax season. But I can’t seem to give it up. Summer can’t stand it. You’ve seen her girly water.”
“Reagan and Cassidy loved it.” He felt like crap again when he thought of how sad the girls had been to see the two women leave so early last night. “Maybe I should come back.”
“Not on your life.” Clarice playfully picked up a paring knife and held it out. “I know plenty of men like you. The impulse to apologize is rare. The actual apology is even rarer.”
“This is the second time I’ve apologized in less than twenty-four hours,” he pointed out, frowning.
“So I heard.” She put the knife down. “But here’s what I know about men. By the time you walk back to your house, you’ll think you did plenty, saying what you did to me, her friend. No, you’re going to stand here and drink coffee until she returns. Then I’ll leave you two star-crossed lovebirds alone and you can apologize to her sweet little face.”
His mouth tightened. “Star-crossed lovers? Have you been reading that Shakespeare garbage too?”
“Your brother, Tim, is adorable!” She gave him a sly grin. “It’s too bad I saw Billie first, because your baby brother is a real romantic. I’ll bet he knows how to treat a woman right.”
Had she and Summer analyzed him and his brothers? He didn’t want to know. “Tim has a girlfriend.”
“That’s no shock.” She gestured to him. “You clearly don’t. In fact, you act like you wiped your whole dating and romance program from your motherboard. Is the girls’ mother that bad?”
Terrific. They were wondering about his and his brothers’ personal crap. It was just like women to dig in deep. “You’ve seen the girls. They’re wonderful. And that’s all I’m saying on that subject.”
“Fine. If you’d like, we can stop trying to have an adult conversation, and you can simply grunt like an animal. Might save you a lot of trouble.”
He couldn’t help but puff out a laugh. “Right. And maybe I should stop walking upright too and just hunch over and drag my knuckles on the ground. Stop confusing people.”
Her cackle carried across the room. “Now that’s a fabulous idea. Give that ape a wide berth, it’ll say. He’s not fit for human company. Robbie, you should start practicing today.”
Her wicked humor had him cracking a reluctant smile. Yeah, he could see why Billie liked her. Okay, she was a little weird, but balls-out honest. Billie didn’t take to women who played games. “As long as my new act entertains Reagan and Cassidy, I’ll do it. We’re reaching that part of the vacation where the glow of the adventure is fading. They’re getting restless.”
“Then we should do something fun!” Clarice said enthusiastically, wiggling her hips. “I remember being bored on vacation as a kid. The only antidote is something exhilarating. How about an amusement park? I think I read in a brochure there’s one in Nags Head.”
He still wasn’t sure about going out in public. “Cassidy is still a little young for that, but thanks.”
A knock sounded before a door slicked open in another part of the house. “Hey!” Summer called. “It’s me.”
“Great!” Clarice shouted back. “We have company.”
He set his coffee aside. “You two knock before you enter the house?”
Clarice picked up the knife. “You’re damn right we do. We’re women alone in a house. Beats going around with a weapon. We also lock the doors. There are weirdos in vacation spots too, you know.”
“I’ve busted a few,” he commented, watching for Summer. “Thanks for the coffee.”
“You’re welcome.” Clarice made a show of putting the knife away. “You might start that practicing—and grunting—just in case the apology doesn’t work.”
He hadn’t allowed himself to imagine the possibility that it might not. Shit. “Point taken. But I might try flowers first. Hunching like that would give me a bad back.”
“Whatever, O’Connor,” she called, sailing out of the room.
