Waylaid (True North #8) - Sarina Bowen Page 0,48

mustache that needs a trim. “What a wild coincidence, running into family tonight.”

“It’s not such a wild coincidence, apparently.” My voice is tight, and my mother gives me a disapproving glance. But she’s about to see for herself. “Maybe you’ll get our table by the window. Have a nice meal.”

Mom and I just blink at each other awkwardly for one more moment, and I realize that I’m really not emotionally prepared to see my mother on a date.

“See you at home,” she says. And then she walks into the noodle shop.

Seventeen

Rickie

Back in the truck, I punch the button to turn on Dylan's radio. Music fills the cab, and Daphne turns her face away from me to look out the window.

"Are you okay?" I ask. “Do you not like that guy? Gil?”

“I’m fine,” she bites out. “Gil is probably a terrific human being. It’s just new, okay? My dad died seven years ago, but my mother never said a word about dating before this summer. It's just a strange idea for me."

“Must be something in the water. Every member of your family is out there dating. Including Grandpa.”

She groans.

“You’re the only Shipley who insists she isn’t dating,” I say, driving the point home. “Mom is out there having a great time. And you say you’re giving up men?”

She turns her chin to give me a critical glare, and I give her a sleazy wink. She tries to hold on to her expression. But I see her lips twitch with humor. "Maybe I didn’t actually give up men. Maybe that's just an excuse I thought up to let you down easy."

“Nah,” I insist. “Impossible.”

"Oh, really?" I can see the eye roll even without looking. “That sure of yourself?”

“Daphne, seriously. Who could resist a guy with this face, this body, and a tendency to proposition hot young women and then leave 'em by the side of the road?"

“And still I’ve met worse,” she mumbles. “Where is all this traffic coming from?”

It’s true—Montpelier is jumping tonight. “The whole world is dating, see?”

She growls.

After five minutes of stop-and-go traffic, I finally get the truck back on the highway. Then we’re cruising south, as the radio plays on. “I hate to keep bringing up my gross inadequacies,” I say into the companionable silence. “But could I ask you a couple questions about our early car rides together?"

“Sure."

“When I originally invited you to that party, how did I describe it?"

“Jeez. It was a long time ago.”

“I know. Just do your best.”

She blows out a breath. “It was going to be hosted at a boathouse of some kind.”

Huh. “Like a yacht club?"

“Well…” She hesitates. “I got the impression that it was private property. But that could have just been my take on it. I don't have any friends with boats. I don't know the lingo."

"Okay. Did I happen to mention how far a drive it was from Harkness?”

"Nope. Sorry. I got the feeling you didn’t have too many details yet. But it was some kind of annual tradition. You'd heard stories. You wanted to see what the hype was all about."

“That sounds like me.” This is a dead end, though. How could Daphne know anything about a party that I failed to bring her to? And I don’t want to pester her all night. "Just one more question," I insist as I put on the signal to get off the highway.

“Wait, where are you going?" she asks.

I take the highway exit and brake slowly toward the street. “I want ice cream. Duh. I didn't think our nondate should end until we got some ice cream. Is that okay?”

“Sure.”

“Your enthusiasm overwhelms me.”

She smiles. And I’m such a sucker for that smile.

There are a surprising number of people here at the Dreamy Creemee, too, so I ease the truck into the lot, where a gaggle of children are poking each other in and around the line. I cut the engine at the far corner of the gravel parking area. Then I turn to Daphne again. "My final question is an easy one."

"Okay?" She unclips her seatbelt and then waits for me to ask it.

"Did I kiss you?"

“What? When?" Her eyes dip.

"In Connecticut. After our car ride.”

“No, you didn’t.” She shakes her head.

“Oh good.”

Her brown eyes leap to mine. “Why is that good?” Then she seems to realize what she’s just admitted—that she craves my kisses. “Never mind.” She reaches for the door.

“No, this is crucial.” I catch her hand before she leaves the truck. “You know how I recognized you,

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