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After thinking it over, 2.0 inquired, So this is like an itch you need to scratch? One night of hanky-panky to take the edge off so that you can get him out of your system?
Grace pounced on it. Yes. Precisely.
Fine, 2.0 huffed. Use a condom.
“Grace?” Julie asked. “You want to add anything to the order?”
She shut the menu, her mind made up on more than just food. “The cheese plate,” she told the waitress. “Definitely the cheese plate.”
Then she retrieved her cell phone from Riley’s clutches and typed in one fateful word in response to Jake’s message.
Yes.
Chapter Eighteen
Grace had known she was out of practice with dating.
She hadn’t known that getting back on the damned wagon would be such a complete disaster.
Clad only in matching green bra and panties, she stood in front of her closet. And stared. And stared some more.
Without taking her eyes off the mess of clothes that were all wrong, she retrieved her phone from the nightstand and called Julie.
“Hey, Grace,” her friend chirped.
“I have nothing to wear.”
There was a beat of silence followed by rustling … of sheets, or maybe clothes? … followed by a whispered, “Stop!” and then a giggle.
Grace rolled her eyes. “Did I interrupt something?”
“Of course not,” Julie said. Another giggle was followed by a squeal.
“When Mitchell’s done copping a feel, can we please deal with my crisis?”
“Sure, sure,” Julie said, her voice turning all business. “Listen, you’ve called the right woman. I’ve written about eight articles on exactly this problem. Now, I know this is going to be hard to believe, but what you think you’re experiencing is not real.”
“Excuse me?”
“It’s the first-date-and-I-have-absolutely-nothing-to-wear panic you’re experiencing. It’s perfectly common, but also 100 percent in your head. Now repeat after me: ‘There is the perfect thing to wear in this closet.’ ”
“If I’d known you were going to be in weird-shrink mode, I would have called Riley or Emma.”
“I knew it! You do like Emma.”
“Can we discuss this later? Like maybe after we’ve figured out what I’m wearing?”
“How much time do we have?”
Grace checked the clock and tried to stifle the surge of panic. “Um … about eight minutes.”
“Until you have to leave? Or is Jake coming over there?”
“He’s coming here. Something about that’s how boys from the dairy farms do it.”
A beat of silence on the other end. “I’m trying to figure out if there’s a sexual reference in there, but mostly it just seems weird. But either way, that’s a big step for a first date. These days, showing a man your home is a bigger step than showing him your boobs.”
“According to whom, Riley? And besides, he’s already seen my home,” Grace said as she held up a blue dress and promptly discarded it. Too corporate. White sundress? Too bridal. Last year’s skinny jeans? Too tight.
