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When she tells us about her date yesterday—and the night (and morning) that followed—I know she’s omitting some of the more private details, but I can fill in the blanks.
She’s completely smitten—and from the sounds of it, so is Sebastian.
“You guys are cute together,” Candice announces. “I’ve changed my mind, and I’m back on Team Texas.”
“Yep. It’s the waffle maker,” Fiona agrees. “Game changer.”
Georgia takes a deep breath and bites her lip. “I’m worried I might be jumping in too fast. He’s very easy to fall for.”
I grunt in agreement. “Men like him always are. Wes was the same. Grouchy and growly but so sweet underneath it all. It’s like a sneak attack. You don’t see it coming until it’s too late.”
“Why doesn’t Piper like him?” Trina tilts her head, long hair sliding off her shoulder.
Georgia shrugs. “She thinks he’s going to try to hold me back.”
“Hold you back from what?”
“Well.” Georgia takes a deep breath. “He’s not exactly easy to compromise with. She probably thinks he’ll wrap me around his little finger and then try to cart me back to Texas. It’ll break my heart all over again, because it’ll be proof that he doesn’t see me for who I am, but just as an accessory to his life.”
Trina leans in. “Are you worried about that?”
A phone rings—mine. It’s Wes. I excuse myself and answer. “Hey, honey.”
“Where are you?” I can’t read his voice. It’s very neutral, which worries me.
“Georgia’s house. Why?”
“We just got a delivery.”
“Oh, sh—” I slap my hand over my face.
“Fourhundredscented candles, Simone?”
“There was a sale,” I answer weakly. “And I give them as gifts whenever I need one on short notice. You know that.”
He sighs. “Where do you want me to put them?”
Gosh, I love this man.
“I’ll come home.” I’ll bring them to the library above Four Cups. Maybe I’ll get everything delivered there from now on. It’s safer that way.
We hang up, and I return to the ladies in the kitchen. “I have to go. Can I catch a lift with someone to head back to my place? There’s a candle emergency.”
“A candle emergency?” Georgia repeats, brows climbing toward her hairline.
“I ordered a bunch of candles. Wes is upset. I need to hide the candles and calm him down before he does something drastic.”
Fiona snorts. “She needs to ‘apologize.’”
I grin. My best friend knows me too well.
“If you want to ride the scooter, I can take you,” Georgia says.
A few minutes later, I’m sitting on the back of her Vespa, feeling the wind on my face as we zoom toward my not-so-little cabin in the woods. We drive down the winding road that leads to my house, and I hear Georgia gasp.
“It’s gorgeous,” she says when we stop in front. She’s probably seeing the big windows, the A-line roof, the cedar shingles.
My eyes are on the four massive boxes stacked beside the front door. Wes doesn’tdisapprove of my candle-buying habit, and we’re not exactly stuck for money, but he also doesn’t understand how much joy I get from burning nice-smelling candles. I may have gone overboard this time, though.
