awkward.
Charlotte pointed at the screen. “Look! There he is!” Mom squealed. Millie fanned her face like she was all hot and bothered.
“There who is?” asked Annie.
“Sam,” Millie said. “Isn’t he adorable? I know it’s just night one, but he’s already our favorite. The minute he stepped out of the limo, I was like ‘That one!’”
“Quiet,” Mom commanded. “He’s about to talk to Hannah.”
Millie and Charlotte edged forward in their seats.
Annie checked this “Sam” out. He was cute enough, with his wavy, light brown hair and dimples and … were his eyes green? Yep. He had perfect white teeth too. They were probably capped. Definitely an actor.
Annie swiped another chocolate chip cookie off the plate. Sam had a nice voice too. Deep, with just a twinge of a Southern accent. Texas, maybe?
Hannah and her double Ds leaned toward him. “What do you do for work, Sam?” she asked, fluttering her eyelashes.
“I supply gas.”
Millie looked around the room. “Did he just say he supplied gas?”
“I’m afraid so,” said Mom.
“He must be nervous,” said Charlotte. “Maybe he meant something else?”
“So you work in a gas station?” Hannah asked. Annie could hear the not-so-hidden contempt in her voice. What a witch.
“Not exactly,” Sam said, rolling his neck to the side. Annie revised her opinion of him. This guy was no actor. He looked too miserable in front of the camera. “What do you do?” he asked Hannah.
Annie poured herself a glass of wine. She would never admit it to Mom and the rest of the book club, but she could understand how just after a few minutes of watching him on TV, Sam had become their favorite. There was something endearing about his awkwardness. He seemed like a normal, everyday guy. Except ridiculously good-looking. And that voice … She suppressed a shiver. Annie had never believed in love in at first sight. But lust? Oh, yeah.
She focused back on the show.
“Tell me about your previous relationships,” Hannah asked with all the enthusiasm of someone reading off a cue card.
“Don’t answer her, Sam!” Annie shouted at the TV, surprising not just herself, but Mom and Charlotte as well. They turned to look at her with upraised brows.
“Looks like someone is getting vested in Single Gal,” Millie sing-songed.
“I’m not vested,” Annie protested, “it’s just—”
“We know,” said Mom. “This show is addictive. Like crack.”
Annie wasn’t sure she wanted to know what her mother knew about crack.
“What do you want to know?” Sam asked, clearly uncomfortable.
“You know, the usual. Ever been married? Any serious girlfriends?”
“Never been married. One serious girlfriend.”
“What happened?” asked Hannah.
Annie took a swig of her wine. Yeah, what happened?
“She was a Longhorn. I was an Aggie,” he drawled. “It was never going to work out.”
Annie snorted with laughter. Terrific answer. Good-looking. Nice voice. And a sense of humor. So what if he worked at a gas station?
“What’s your family like?” asked Hannah.
“They’re great. My mom and my sister, Becks, that’s short for Rebecca, are big fans of yours. They’re the ones who submitted my application for the show.”
“That’s so sweet! I love them already!” Ugh. Hannah was so disingenuous. Hopefully, Sam could see through her.
“Yeah, well, they love you too.”
“How old is your sister?”
“She’s almost eighteen,” said Sam.
“That’s a bit of an age difference, isn’t it? You’re, what … ?”
“Thirty-five,” he said.
“So you have to be ready to settle down. What’s your dad like? Is he a fan of the show too?”
“My dad passed away ten years ago.” His voice went tight with emotion. Baring your soul to America was part of the show and what he’d signed up for. Still, Annie couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. She took another swig of her wine. Run away, Sam!
“Oh, I’m so sorry.” Were those tears in Hannah’s eyes? The camera went in for a closeup. She dabbed a manicured finger around her outer eye, presumably to wipe away any smeared mascara. Bleh.
“Let’s talk about what you’re looking for in a girl. I hope you like blondes,” she teased, clearly fishing for a compliment.
“I don’t really have a type,” Sam said.
“All men have a type,” said Hannah. “C’mon, tell America all about your perfect girl.”
“First off,” said Sam, “I don’t want a girl. I want a woman.”
Millie raised her glass in the air. “Well said!”
“Go on,” Hannah urged.
Sam shrugged adorably. “I want the same thing my parents had.”
“Which is what?” Hannah persisted.
“A marriage that lasts until death do us part, and even after that. I don’t care what color hair she has or if she even