Brick pushed his plate out of the way. “Sorry, boy. Your mama says that’s not for you.”
He petted Beau and soon, Beau curled up in Brick’s lap. Blaise wondered why a man who clearly liked dogs didn’t have one of his own.
She smiled. “Are you all right to sit out here for another hour or so? Because when he curls up like that, it generally means he’s in for a good bit.”
Brick smiled. “That’d be all right. Long as you stay, too.”
She nodded. “I’m not going anywhere.” She still had cake left. And a lot more to find out about the man across from her.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Cece opened her eyes enough to acknowledge that it was morning. She groaned. She’d woken up with a minor headache and a major regret. What on earth had gotten into her last night? Had she actually given a man her phone number? And agreed to go out with him? Worse, she’d said she loved bowling.
She’d never bowled a day in her life. What was wrong with her? That man was probably a beach bum with no job and the kind of casual outlook on life that made her feel panicky.
Her chest felt heavy, as though the weight of what she’d done had settled over her. She tried to move and realized the weight was Peanut, curled up on top of her.
Cece sighed and pulled the covers over her head, dislodging Peanut. Okay, the man had been very handsome. For a beach bum. Then again, maybe that was her wine goggles at work. What if he was actually hideous? She had to call and cancel.
What was his name? Joe? Jonas. Joe for short. Okay, time to let him down gently and then get ready to meet Dr. Keen for breakfast and the interview.
She rolled over to grab her phone and saw the shell Joe had given her. In the pale morning light, it was more beautiful than she remembered. She picked it up. White with irregular stripes of creamy tan, the shell was nearly translucent in the sun.
For reasons she couldn’t fathom, it touched her more than she could say that he’d given it to her, this little wonder of nature.
There were worse things than dinner and bowling with a beach bum, she supposed. He might not even show up. She was making too much out of it. She ought to go and experience something new. It would be good for her.
Maybe she’d even do a little piece on the bowling alley for theBuzz. The newsletter was in constant need of new material.
With a sigh of resignation, she put the shell back on her nightstand and got out of bed.
Peanut, sensing breakfast was imminent, ran to the kitchen, meowing all the way.
Cece chuckled. “Yes, you’re getting fed, but not before I start my coffee.” She needed to drink a big glass of water, too. And maybe take an aspirin. No more drinking for a while. She just couldn’t process it like she had once.
Another reminder that she was not getting any younger. Time was a thief. It stole all the best things from you. Your strength, your looks, your mind. And, apparently, your ability to hold your alcohol.
After the glass of water, she got the coffee started, then opened a pouch of food for Peanut, who was prowling shark-like around Cece’s legs.
As soon as the bowl went down, Peanut focused her attention on eating. Cece fixed a cup of coffee and took it out to the porch to get some fresh air. She had time to sit for a few minutes and let herself wake up a bit more before she jumped in the shower.
Hmm. Her Kindle was still on the table between her chair and the hammock. Good thing this was a low-crime neighborhood. She sat and held her cup with both hands. The sky had a few streaks of soft pink. It was going to be a beautiful Saturday.
That reminded her that she’d taken pictures last night. Or at least she thought she had. She set her cup down and went back in for her phone. Peanut was still eating.
Cece brought her phone outside and sat, immediately pulling up her gallery to see if there was evidence of last night’s adventure.
There was. Two blurry sunset photos and one of what might have been sand. Or a closeup of Jonas’s shorts.
She shook her head. Drinking was definitely off the table for a while. She swapped her phone for her cup and went back to her coffee.
What was she going to wear to this breakfast? She didn’t feel like dressing up, but she had to look professional. The man was a doctor, after all. A heart surgeon. She couldn’t show up looking the way she felt.
She finished her coffee, went in—Peanut was now cleaning herself on the couch—and, after dropping her empty cup in the sink, went to shower.
She still didn’t know what she was wearing. She’d figure it out when she stood in front of her closet. Wasn’t like there was that much to choose from. The hot water helped wake her up and the caffeine seemed to be kicking in.
By the time she got out of the shower, she no longer felt like she needed the aspirin. She towel-dried her hair, then went to assess her clothing options.
