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When he opened his mouth to respond with a refusal—judging by his darkening expression—Jane hurried to cut him off. “Do your best to make her laugh but keep the jokes to a minimum. Tell one too many, and she won’t be laughing with you. She’ll be laughing at you.”
Rocking back on his flip-flops, he peered up at the ceiling. Praying internally for divine assistance?
Fiona piped up, “Most important part of all, it’s not about what you say or don’t say. It’s about how you say it. Or don’t say it. Remember that. Oh, and be casual but professional. Approachable but aloof. Be yourself, as if you were someone else.” She ended her advice with a friendly pat to his arm. “You’ll do just fine.”
I couldn’t have said it better myself.
“I don’t even know what any of that means,” Beau told them with a grimace. He scanned the sea of dating hopefuls, and that grimace worsened. “Jail wouldn’t be too bad for you, would it, Jane?”
“Hey, you tampered with evidence, buddy.” She patted his shoulder. “You’ll be in a cell next to mine.”
Another scan of the dating hopefuls. A full body shudder. “I think I’m fine with jail. Let’s turn ourselves in.”
Laughing, she urged him forward. “Don’t worry. I doubt the singles of Aurelian Hills will bite...too hard.”
CHAPTER FIVE
“Five minutes to love!”
Heart Lake, Pennsylvania - Fast and Flirty Festival
5 Matches Made!
“What’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever done with a dead body?” Jane’s current “date” asked as he reached across the table to brush his fingertips over her knuckles.
Big nope! She shuddered and eased back—again. This wasn’t the first, second or third time he’d reached across the table to caress some part of her. How she wished she’d worn a hat tonight. Hats conveyed a message. They said: I am removed from this situation. Subtitle: Do not touch.
The guy’s name was Billy. He was Jane’s age and a mechanic. He was also handsome in a picture-perfect kind of way. No doubt he’d spent hours styling his hair and curating his look, posing for photos before arriving.
She’d pegged him as Ana’s Slick Willy. The only plus to this minus. Jane hoped Fiona and Beau were having better luck with their “dates.”
“I bet you’ve done bad, bad things,” Billy said with a leer. Dim lighting and flickering candles gave him a sinister air.
This five-minute session had lasted an eternity.
As soon as the timer dinged, the women were supposed to pick up their drinks and fork, discard their plate, if they’d selected something to eat, and move to the next get-to-know-you session. The men would remain at the small round tables covered with cloths of dusty rose and an array of desserts for the women to choose from. A sweet treat in case the date proved sour? Like a consolation prize. Beau occupied the center table. The Berdize sisters must have stationed him there on purpose. The eye candy of the event despite his atrocious attire. Someone each woman could look forward to meeting. Smart.
His assigned seating also gave Jane a bird’s-eye view of his performance, which was sadly lacking, if she were being honest. Every time she’d peeked at him, he’d been as still as a statue, with his arms crossed over his chest. Now he simply peered at the poor girl opposite him, silent, as if daring her to complain. Say something, man.
“Dude!” Billy threw back his head and cackled, reminding her of his presence. “If you have to think this long and hard, you must have done some pretty gnarly stuff. Gotta admit. I’m even more intrigued.”
Oops. Here she sat, mentally chastising Beau, forgetting about her own “date.” What were they discussing, anyway? Oh, yes. Dead bodies. Doing her best to appear nonchalant, she asked, “Who wants to discuss their work? I’d rather hear about your hobbies. For example, I can often be found in my garden. Do you like to garden, Billy?” Did he grow his own thorn apple?
“If I’m not in my garage, fixing my bike, I’m riding it.” He wiggled his brows. “The wilder the ride, the better.”
Smile. For the case. She forced the corners of her lips to lift and attempted to bat her lashes. Something Jane had seen in movies. “Tell me about your romantic history.” Smooth, Jay Bird. “Do you prefer brunettes or blondes?” Or strawberry blondes? “Do you seek something long term?”
Billy winced. “Can I be honest with you, June?”
Ugh. June was her half-sister. “Jane,” she corrected. She wore a tag for crying out loud. “And I really wish you would.”
“I like ‘em breathing.” He dropped his gaze to her chest. “I offer the best night of your life, and that’s it.”
Double ugh. Was this seriously the mate-pool women had to pick from?
Jane missed Conrad so hard right now. What was he doing? Who was he doing it with?
