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“Wear the outfit I picked out. You’ll get some.”
“I don’t want to get some,” Jordan said, standing and going to the fridge for more wine.
“Sure you do,” her friend said, with a smirk so obvious, it came through in his voice.
Okay, yeah. Maybe she kind of did.
Chapter 16
No doubt about it. This definitely ranked in the top five dumbest things Luke had ever done.
“Any questions?” Vicky asked, beaming up happily up at him after going through the checklist on her clipboard.
“Dollar in the box, kiss this ugly mug,” Charlie said, leaning on the counter of the booth and pointing at Luke’s face. “I’ll make sure he doesn’t screw it up.”
Luke scowled at his friend. “Surely you have somewhere else to be.”
“Nope.”
“Great, then you can take my spot.”
Charlie grinned. “No can do. Deb has deemed my lips all hers.”
“Disgusting,” Luke muttered. “Does she know where they’ve been?”
Charlie ignored him. “So, Vick, love, is this a kiss-on-the-cheek thing or a…you know.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “The good stuff?”
“It’s whatever the paying client and Luke mutually agree upon,” Vicky said, as though she were negotiating an international peace treaty and not the nuances of a kissing booth.
Charlie jerked his thumb toward the booth to their left. “Where’s the girl?”
Yeah, where’s the girl? Luke’s thoughts echoed grumpily.
Vicky checked her watch. “She’ll be here. She still has a few minutes. You guys are just early. Oh, Luke, did I mention? There’s a contest.”
“Oh, good. I thought this couldn’t get worse.”
“What sort of contest?” Charlie said, rubbing his hands together.
Vicky pointed to the blue box in front of Luke, then to the pink box at what would be Jordan’s booth. “Whoever wins the most money gets one of Mrs. Mouse’s pies.”
“A pie,” Luke repeated.
“A Mrs. Mouse pie. Winner’s choice of flavor,” Vicky explained.
Charlie nodded reverently.
“I don’t like pie,” Luke said.
“Everyone likes pie,” Vicky insisted. “Not that it’ll matter if you keep up this bad attitude. Nobody wants to kiss a grumpy man.”
Jordan did.
Or at least she had. A week ago.
She’d been at Tucker’s both Thursday and Friday nights, but she’d only given him an impersonal wave; they hadn’t exchanged a single word.
He hadn’t seen her running either.
