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But of course, Bad Dad got away with abandoning his child without the slightest stain on his reputation. Men routinely get away with the kind of behavior that would end a woman—in real life and in novels. Romance heroes can be flawed as hell, but so many heroines are still virgins who run cafés and save animals in their spare time.
Huh…
Elaina would actually be a great romance novel heroine, if it weren’t for the fact that she’s slept with every reasonably attractive man in a fifty-mile radius. She’s unabashedly sex-positive.
I’m the uptight virgin, but not even my best friends know about that.
At twenty-four, being inexperienced is starting to feel like something I should keep to myself, just to avoid uncomfortable questions I’m not sure how to answer.
“Book boyfriends are fantasy, not reality,” Elaina continues. “Book boyfriends can be psychotic, obsessed, bossy jerks, and it’s fine. Hot, even. Some real-life guy tries that shit, and we’re going to have a problem.”
“Though Mark was doing some pretty hot bossy talk the other day behind the warehouse,” Gertie mutters, sending Elaina leaping from the couch to tackle her onto the carpet.
“Spill all the details, you evil weasel!” Elaina shouts. “Quit taunting me!”
They grapple amidst the cavorting kittens, Gertie giggling and Elaina cursing, while Maya calls out over the ruckus, “Why do you two always have to get physical? You haven’t played rugby in years.”
“Because Gertie is a tease,” Elaina says, grunting as the taller, more muscular Gertie easily flips her onto her stomach and pins her arms behind her back.
“When are you going to learn, woman?” Gertie asks with a fond shake of her head. “You run a cat café. I haul lobster cages onto a boat six days a week. You are no longer any match for my level of physical fitness.”
Elaina grunts and squirms fruitlessly for her freedom. “I’m going to start working out any day now. Yoga starts back up at the YMCA in September.”
“Yoga will not be enough,” Gertie says flatly. “Yoga girls are no match for lobster girls. That’s just science.”
“Speaking of lobster, are we still on for the Friends of the Feast lobster boil at the Moose Club next Friday? It’s my last weekend before I head back to the city,” I say, collecting Maybe from the floor as he returns to our side of the otherwise empty café. He snuggles against my chest, but his gaze remains locked on Gertie and Elaina as he lets out a plaintive meow.
“We’re totally going.” Elaina grunts, trying to poke Gertie in the back with her ballet flat and failing miserably. “Wouldn’t miss it.”
“Good. Now stop wrestling. You’re upsetting Maybe,” I say, laughing as the tiny cat meows in agreement.
“Sorry, Maybe, I gotta show this skinny brat who’s boss every once and a while.” Gertie rolls off Elaina and hops to her feet. “And I need more spiked cider. Anyone else? I finally have a day off tomorrow. I intend to spend it gently hungover, eating French fries in bed and watching bad horror movies.”
“More for me, too.” Elaina rocks into a seated position. “I’m not going to open tomorrow, either. Even the most hardcore tourists aren’t going to be out petting cats or eating scones in a squall like this one.”
“It’s really bad, isn’t it?” Maya casts a worried glance toward the windows, where the rain is pelting the glass hard enough to blur our view of the world outside. “Are you going to be safe getting home, Sydney? The pedestrian bridge to the lighthouse can get hairy in a bad storm.”
I stroke Maybe, comforted by the steady vibration of his ribs against mine. “I’ll be fine. I drove so I could take the long way home around the heath. So, I probably shouldn’t have any more alcohol.”
“How about hot chocolate, then?” Gertie asks. “And sugar cookies? If Elaina isn’t opening tomorrow, we shouldn’t leave those day-olds in the case.”
Elaina perks up. “No, we shouldn’t. I also have some white chocolate truffles that won’t be good in two days. Let’s have a sweet feast, and I’ll find a link to that book I was talking about to send to everyone!”
“Sounds great,” I say, as my cell begins to blare in my bag.
Really blare.
Like a siren…
My pulse picks up.
I might be getting my boots on the ground, after all…
two
SYDNEY
Maya flinches, her hands flying to cover her ears. “What is that? Is there a weather alert?”
