Page 19 of When You Kiss Me

No one in town knew his real name. Closing his phone screen without calling, Coop turned slowly, recognizing the man immediately. Bright blond hair, tall, lean frame, and a polished smile. “Simon! Great to see you.” In a way, it was. Simon was part of Coop’s old life.

“I didn’t know you were vacationing in the Hamptons.” Simon hurried forward and shook Coop’s hand with a firm grip. He was from a Houston family who’d made their fortune in I.T. designing software exclusively for Fortune 500 companies. Their families traveled in the same circles. “My Ferrari had an oil leak. That’s what I get for driving an old classic.”

“That sucks.” Coop chuckled politely, commiserating. “What are you doing here? I thought you were in New York.” After dropping out of college several years ago, he’d gone to culinary school. And last year, he’d been on one of those cooking competition shows on TV.

“I’ve been searching for my place in the world, I suppose.” Simon paused, looking as if he couldn’t believe he’d admitted such a thing. “Trying to raise funding for a restaurant, if you must know.”

Coop felt a sudden kinship for a fellow silver-spooner now making his way alone in the world. “Good luck with that.”

“Thanks.” Simon visibly relaxed. “I’ve got a part-time gig as a sous chef at The Palm. I’m also giving private cooking lessons and working for a catering company.”

“Working hard for the money,” Coop muttered. He knew how that went.

“Looks like you broke down in the middle of a horseback ride.” Simon pointed at Coop’s dirty western wear. “I didn’t know your family kept horses up here.”

“Well, everything changes, I suppose,” Coop said vaguely, not wanting to admit his situation outright. He made a show of pulling out his cell phone and checking the time. “I’ve got to go. But maybe I’ll see you around.”

“Lots of parties this weekend.” Simon nodded. “Fair warning. I might be working at a couple.”

“I have a lot more respect for hard workers than you might think.” Coop meant it.

“Mr. Marchand?” Delilah poked her head out of the waiting room door. Her unnaturally red hair glinted in the sunlight. “Your car is fixed. Paul’s bringing it around.”

“Great.” Simon walked backward toward the office. “Nice seeing you, Coop.”

Coop waved, resuming his walk toward the deli but at a slower pace.

It felt like his old life was catching up to him.

And just when he was starting to like his new one.

*

It was half-past nine at night when Violet’s cell phone rang.

She was in bed, jotting down some handwritten notes about fate from a collection of Shakespeare’s comedies. Many of his characters fought the fate society dictated to disastrous results.

Our meeting was fate.

That was Chuck speaking, his words floating around in her head.

Vi groaned, not wanting to think about her Hamptons cowboy, passionate kisses, or the possibility that fate had brought her the man of her dreams. She may respect Shakespeare’s insight into human nature, but she did not share his belief about fate.

The phone chimed again, a gentle counterpoint to Grandma Dotty’s soft, consistent snores down the hall.

Violet set down her rag-eared notebook, staring at the phone display. “I don’t recognize you.”

That didn’t stop the phone from continuing to chime.

Violet peered at the number. “It’s a gamble as to whether this is my kissing cowboy or just a recorded message telling me I qualify for satellite TV service.”

She pressed the green answer button anyway and raised the phone to her ear. But she said nothing, just in case it was a spammer.

“Vivi?”

“Shakespeare.” She still preferred that name to Chuck. “How did you get my number?”

“I’ve missed you, too.” His voice was deep and smooth, tinged with the same excitement she was feeling.

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