Page 59 of Owen Bailey Needs Advice

Speak of the devil.

I blink at the second email address I’ve made up this month and the letter I’ve written to her. I fumble to click send and slam the computer closed just as Annie trips into my kitchen.

I hop up from the counter and catch her before she can right herself.

“Sorry,” I say, nodding at the uneven hardwood. “That’s my next paycheck.”

Her fingers press into my forearms, her skin cool and soft. She hums out a laugh. “I’ve got an idea for your date with DJ.”

“DJ?” I say, dipping my head to meet her eyes. “What about Candy? You skippedC.”

“Excuse me?” She drops her arms, digging into her back jeans’ pocket.

“I thought maybe you were going alphabetically—Ang, Belle… you know?”

She pauses with her phone midair. “Ooo, that completely appeals to my OCD side. And we did skip right over Candy—”

“It’s all good. D is close enough.” They’re all the same to me.

She wrinkles her button nose, drawing my eyes to herfreckled cheeks and down to her lips. I swallow and meet her back at her brown eyes, like dark chocolate.Mmm. Just like her nose, those eyes also want me to think about her lips.

Or maybe I just need to check myself.

“Annie,” I say, taking her hands in mine. Advice number two from my favorite columnist—touch the girl. “This isn’t about the alphabet. This is about work. Giving advice, testing advice, seeing what works and what doesn’t. You’re picking accordingly. And you’re doing a good job.” Advice number one from my favorite columnist:compliment the girl.

“I am?”

“They’re nice women.”

“They are, aren’t they?”

I give her a nod.Nice—sure. Right for me—oh, far, far from it.

“Okay, well, this is DJ.” She holds out her phone so that I can see the face of a young, cute brunette. She’s cute. Very cute. But she isn’t Annie. So, I’m pretty sure I can tell you right off the bat that this isn’t going to work. “I’m thinking that for this date, we’ll test a comfortable environment.”

“Elsie’s?”

“No!” she pipes—a little too quickly.

“Why not?” I snatch hold of her hand, letting her know I’m not dropping the subject while touching her all at the same time.

“Because my grammy has some strange ideas about dating. About us.”

“Us?”

Grandma Elsie was pretty adamant when she told me that Annie and I can never be. But that doesn’t mean I’m banned from her café—does it?

“Annie?” I thread my fingers through hers and watch for a reaction… but there doesn’t really seem to be one. Does she not even notice my touch? Would I have to dip the woman and plant a kiss on her mouth for her to realize that I’m touching her? Maybe I should—

“I think we should double date. You with DJ, me with someone else. I think that’s the kind of comfort you need. And we both know I won’t be comfortable if Grammy is inspecting one of my dates.”

“You want to come on my date?”

She nods, and my fingers slip from hers.

“With a date? As in, you’ll be with someone, and I’ll be with someone else?” I’m pretty sure the ink of my bullseye tattoo begins to boil, burning a path of pain into my flesh, to the depths of my soul and heart.

She snorts out a small, unlady-like laugh. “That’s usually how a double date works, Trebek.” She tugs on the collar of my shirt, then takes a seat at my kitchen table. “Come look at her, and let’s talk about the plan.”

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