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My eyes stopped on Charles Attwater, sitting in a circle of people and laughing. My jaw tensed. Wyatt’s eyes tracked my glare.
“Charles is a tool,” I grumbled.
Wyatt shrugged. “Seemed like a decent guy to me.”
I shot a look at my brother. “Have you seen the way he smiles? So many teeth.”
My brother shook his head and focused on his beer while I scanned the crowd, considering who I could fix her up with. Someone whowasn’tCharles Attwater.
Deacon Malroy? Too boring.
Josiah Richardson? Still into Legos.
Randy Feldman? Too ... pretty.
The truth was, any one of those idiots would come clamoring for a chance to take Annie out, but I just couldn’t see her being happy with any of them. None of them even came close to being good enough for her.
Wyatt took the last sip of his beer before stretching and releasing an audible sigh as he stood. “I’m outta here. Tootie has Pickle for the night, and I’ve got plans for my wife. Have fun on your date.”
My jaw worked, and nerves bunched the muscles in my back when the words slipped out. “I kind of agreed to fix her up with someone too.”
Wyatt flipped out a few bills and barked out a laugh before clamping a hand on my shoulder. “Good luck with that.”
* * *
I walkedinto the Sugar Bowl and smoothed down my shirt. I’d opted for a hunter-green waffle-knit Henley, sleeves rolled, and a pair of jeans with boots. Casual but still nice for a morning coffee date. With a fresh shave and light touch of cologne, I thought I looked pretty damn good for a first date.
Sammy was already here, seated on a soft bench near the entrance. She popped up when I walked in and lifted a hand in greeting. I breathed out a sigh of relief. She was pretty, even vaguely familiar, with a bright and friendly smile. For some reason I’d worried that Annie would try to play a joke on me and set me up with one of my aunt Tootie’s septuagenarian knitting friends.
I smiled and waved back. Sammy was cute. Really cute. Long blonde hair. Bright-green eyes.
I walked up and held out my hand. “Hi there. Lee Sullivan.”
“Samantha.” She smiled. “But you can call me Sammy—er, or Sam! Samantha! Whatever you like is fine.”
O... kay.
“It’s great to meet you, Sammy.” The Sugar Bowl was unusually quiet. We stood in a slightly uncomfortable silence as the teenage hostess gathered menus and guided us to the table.
As we approached, I pulled out a chair for Sammy. She smiled again as she took her seat across from me, and thinly veiled excitement radiated from her. I took a steadying breath. Something was justoff, and I couldn’t figure out what the hell it was. Deep down I hoped I hadn’t slept with her and forgotten about it. A slimy trickle of shame slid down my spine.
“It was so nice of Annie to set us up,” Sammy said.
I could manage only a polite nod before Sammy reached for her water and bumped into the table. The plates and silverware rattled as water sloshed out of the top of her glass. “Sorry. I guess I’m a little nervous.”
I smiled at her. “Don’t be. There’s nothing to be nervous about.”
The server came, and we ordered coffee along with an apple fritter for me and a coconut maple donut for her.
Sammy fluffed her hair and rubbed her palms on the tops of her thighs.
“So,” I tried, “Annie said you two met in design school? You’re an artist too?”
“I am! Though I’m not nearly as talented as Annie. In school, she could doanythingshe set her mind to. I found my niche in dolls.”
I blinked and angled forward. “Excuse me?”
She nodded eagerly, her eyes growing wider. “Dolls. Lifelike miniatures, really.”
