“Don’t tell me you’re one of those girls that can’t finish a plate of food,” he says, turning on his stool to face me as I stand.
“No, I just have to get back to work. My boss is gearing up for the Corn Festival and she’s making us try on our new uniforms this afternoon.”
“Will you be modeling those flavored body powders you were telling me about?” he asks, raising his eyebrows suggestively.
I push my hair behind my ear and try to shut out the image of Sam James performing a taste test on me. “In a manner of speaking.”
“Then this may be the year I finally get out to the Corn Festival,” he says, showing me his dimple as his eyes take me in.
I can’t help it. I suck in my gut and stick out my chest a bit. Let Sam James think about me covered in golden, honey-flavored body powder. I may be resolved to not fall for him in real life, but that doesn’t mean I can’t be with him in his fantasies or him with me in mine. “Glad to hear it. We’re always happy to have new customers,” I say, leaving him at the counter.
“Hey, Ellie,” Sam calls as I push open the diner’s door.
I look back at him and return the smile he’s fixed on me.
“I’ll be stopping by your booth for that taste test!”
I turn into the midday heat, letting his proposition hit me on the ass on my way out the door. I walk up the sidewalk and back toward the Bath Shop. This is turning into quite the eventful day for me. My mom’s getting married in three weeks to a man I’ve never met, my ex-boyfriend suddenly wants to talk to me, I’ve agreed to a blind date with a man whose name sounds like something I’ve got in my crisper drawer, and I barely escaped a lunch with Sam James in which I considered eating food straight from his mouth. I don’t know if I’m losing my psychic abilities or if being around Sam is just playing haywire with my senses. All I know is that if I ever want to get my happily ever after, I need to get a grip, and fast.
Chapter 6
“I’m confused. Are you going on a date or to a funeral?”
Luanne waltzes into the bathroom and gives me a once over that does nothing for my self-confidence, but she might have a point. I’ve chosen a black dress, black cardigan, and black heels for my ‘hot date’ with Ellery. I lift up onto my tiptoes to assess the damage in the bathroom’s small mirror.
“Is it that bad?” I ask.
“It depends. If you’re going for the undertaker look, you’re nearly there.” Luanne grabs my elbow and pulls me none too gently into her bedroom which has been transformed over the last week into a messy, makeshift closet.
We spent last weekend on a reconnaissance mission to reclaim all of my things from Tim’s apartment. Not wanting to be seen, we snuck into the building through the basement garage and slinked up the first two stairwells, avoiding the lobby elevators. We donned our best burglar disguises of black coats, sunglasses, and baseball caps. We were going for Charlie’s Angels, but I have a feeling it was more Scooby Doo.
When we finally made it to the apartment, I was surprised to see all of my clothes were still hanging in the closet, untouched. I assumed Suzy would’ve strong-armed her way into Tim’s life by now and taken the first opportunity to remove all evidence of me as quickly as she could. But the apartment seemed unchanged, even unlived in. I admit it was a small moment of victory for me.
I left the keys to the front door on the reclaimed wood sofa table right next to a picture of Tim and me on vacation in Key West. We looked so happy that day. We were in love. Well, I was in love, or at least I thought so. Fast forward six months and I’ve turned into a cat burglar, stealing away in the dead of night (okay, it was 5:30 p.m.), and looking back longingly at a home I will never set foot in again. In the end, it only took us two trips to stuff everything I owned into the bed of Luanne’s old pick-up truck.
“Here,” Luanne says, shoving a dress at me and jolting me out of my gloomy thoughts. “What about this