Another Shot At Love (4 page)

“Hey, did you finish that painting you were working on down here?” Roxanna asked, and bit an olive off her drink stick.

For the last couple of week, weather permitting, I’d been carrying my easel downtown, setting myself up on this very street corner to take in the brick buildings, the cloth awnings, and shop window displays. Weekend mornings were the best, the streets crowded with people lazily strolling along the sidewalks, sometimes pausing to rest outside the café on the corner or to window-shop. There was always a breath of freshness and life to downtown Lincoln, and I wanted to capture it on canvas in a series of paintings.

“Not yet,” I said. “I’m almost finished. A woman stopped to give me her card the other day. She wants to buy it.”

“That’s great, Gen!” Lexie looked relieved. I’d been painting and drawing nearly all of my life, but I hadn’t yet done anything with it.

“I’m not sure I want to sell it, but if I do, I’ll call her. We’ll see.” I crossed my legs and my lime green toe nails flashed before I settled my foot under the table. I regretted wearing flip-flops. April was still a little early to be breaking out the open-toed shoes, especially with the rain we’d been getting. However, I’d been so eager for the weather to warm up, I’d been wearing flip-flops almost everywhere lately. “Anyway, we have more important things to talk about.”

“Like?” Roxanna asked as she swiped a lip gloss wand over her lower lip.

“I’m a little worried about me,” I said, and Lexie raised her eyebrows. “I almost flirted with the pizza delivery guy, the one with the uni-brow.”

“The one who delivered us pizza last week?” Lexie asked.

On a sigh, I said, “Yeah. He’s the one.”

Both girls grimaced.

“Ew.”
Roxanna set her martini glass down. “I heard he’s a window peeper.”

I cringed. “Where’d you hear that from?”

“Do you remember Clarissa from school?” she asked, and Lexie and I nodded. “Well, she’s a realtor now. I guess one of her clients caught him peeking in her window.”

“How do you know it’s the same guy?” I asked, suspicious. Sometimes Roxanna had a tendency to over-dramatize. “This isn’t a small town—there are a ton of delivery guys, and at least five pizzerias.”

Roxanna lifted her brows in challenge. “Do you know more than one pizza delivery guy with a uni-brow who drives a Toyota 4-Runner?”

She had a point. I was impressed with her specifics.

“That’s creepy.” Lexie shuddered, her fingers twining through the blonde curls hanging over her shoulder. “Why isn’t he in jail? If Tony caught wind of that, the perv would be toast.”

Tony was our older sister’s husband; a no-nonsense, plain clothes detective with aspirations of making captain. He took his job very seriously, especially since there’d been an increase in drug traffic on the highway bordering town. His sole mission in life was to catch the bad guys before they hit state patrol jurisdiction—something about bragging rights in law enforcement. A peeping Tom would be a mid-day snack for my brother-in-law and his partner, Mr. No-Smiles.

I pictured the delivery guy stuttering in my doorway. “He really didn’t seem the kind that trolls for cougars to me.”

“Clarissa said he might not be a window-peeper, that it might be the woman’s idea of a sex game. Apparently, she’s having some kind of mid-life crisis after her divorce. Anyway, they were all hot and heavy for awhile, getting their kink on, until another cougar down the street latched on. Apparently, the pizza delivery business is
booming
in that neighborhood,” Roxanna emphasized with a ridiculous eyebrow waggle, and I laughed.

“That’s…disturbing.” Lexie turned to me, her gaze serious. “Don’t ever order pizza from there again.”

“I won’t.” I was officially creeped-out. I couldn’t believe I’d considered inviting the guy in for a drink. Clearly, having just finished
The Notebook
, I’d been in a vulnerable state of mind. Especially since the uni-brow hadn’t turned me off. Now that I knew he was a maybe-window-peeper, I would definitely find a new pizzeria that delivered. I swirled the toothpick of olives around in my drink. “I should probably start dating again.”

The hesitation in my voice was evident. I’d been single three months and though I’d been asked out a few times, I always declined. I wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t that I was hung up on Brent—God, no—but so far, I had no interest in getting involved again. Not yet. Dating sounded like work. I clearly wasn’t any good at it, not if I’d picked up a jerk like Brent.

Being single, I had no one to answer to, no more wasted time going back and forth trying to pick a restaurant to eat at. For me it had been simple, but Brent was so picky. He preferred to spend a fortune on entrees fit for starving models and the pretentious. Me, I liked to dine in ethnic restaurants off the beaten path. To
live
a little. I loved foods battered and deep-fried in oil, baked in gooey cheese, and guaranteed to clog arteries. Now, I could eat as much of it and as often as I wanted.

No more caviar for this girl!

Living on my own was peaceful. I was happy now, and Brent was nothing more than a bad memory. Settling into single life had been a piece of cake. The thought of disrupting that calm by jumping into dating again terrified me.

“Just not sure I’m over my hatred of men yet,” I added.

“Oh, you’re over it.” Roxanna winked a heavily lined eye. “If you thought about feeling-up the creepy pizza delivery guy, you’ve decided to forgive the male gender for Brent’s indiscretions. And it’s about time. I thought maybe you’d decided to become a born again virgin.”

I laughed. “I didn’t say I’m going to sleep around, just date. Maybe.”

Roxanna rolled her eyes skyward and let out an exaggerated sigh. “God, that sounds boring. You are going to shrivel up like a prune.”

“Yeah, well, I guess you could say I have trust issues.”

When the tears had finally come, I’d cried solid for a good two weeks. I’d been such a mess. If not for Roxanna forcing me out of my bedroom at my parents’ and away from the double fudge ice cream self-therapy, I would be a three hundred pound recluse by now.

“The good thing about modern women and dating is you don’t have to talk marriage to have sex with him. Things are a lot more progressive these days in the dating arena,” Roxanna assured me. “There’s even this thing called ‘going Dutch’ where you pay for your own meal and ask them to leave after you’ve had an orgasm.”

“Oh?” I asked, intrigued. No strings anything sounded pretty good.

“Yes.” Roxanna grinned and waggled her brows suggestively. I hoped it wouldn’t be her new thing. She said, “It’s really very simple.”

I tilted my head in consideration. There wouldn’t be any trust necessary by “going Dutch”. I had my doubts, though. Nothing was ever as simple as it sounded.

“I agree with Rox. You need to get out there again, but I don’t agree with the going Dutch part. A man should pay for his date’s meal no matter what. Otherwise, what’s the point of the date?” Lexie crossed her legs to the side of the table.

“A free meal is always nice, I suppose,” I said.

“Right, but if you’re going to hit on perverts,” Lexie waved her toothpick at me, “you should probably take care of all that pent up sexual frustration before you end up in a dumpster across the county line.”

I grimaced. “Good point.”

“Dating will be fun.” Lexie flashed me an optimistic smile. “Not all men are pigs.”

Logically, I knew this to be true. Still, I was in no hurry to prove it either way. “Every guy I’ve met so far gives me a headache.”

“I think you’re still channeling a little leftover rage over that rat bastard ex of yours,” Roxanna said with a laugh.

“Only a little?” Lexie grinned.

Roxanna regarded Lexie over the rim of her glass. “Last weekend this guy came up to buy her a drink. You know what she did? She told him she wasn’t interested in man-whores. She turned her back on him before he could respond.”

“How was I supposed to know the girl sitting with him was his sister?” I asked. “It wasn’t like they were wearing a signs.”

“A simple ‘hey, who was that girl you were with?’ would have taken care of that,” Roxanna pointed out and Lexie snickered.

“You know what would make you feel better? A nice one night stand with a beefy guy, someone completely different than Brent.” Roxanna leaned into the table, her eyes sparkling with the idea. “You know, a guy with a personality…someone that screams
SEX
.”

“Yes!” Lexie clapped her hands together, her eyes wide as she gazed at Roxanna. “Do you know anyone?”

“I know lots of guys who fit that ticket. And I know one who’s dying to meet you, too,” Roxanna told me. She waved her hand to flag down a waitress and called out to the woman, “We’re going to need some tequila shots over here. My friend’s getting laid.”

The waitress smiled pink-glossed lips. “In that case, I’ll bring you two rounds, one on the house.”

“God, I love this place,” Roxanna said, ignoring my glare as the waitress hurried away to get our order. The entire bar, consisting of two small open rooms, had heard.

“I’ll think about it,” I said.

Roxanna shook her head. “No time for thinking. No friend of mine hits on the pervert pizza delivery guy. It’s time for drastic measures.”

Drastic measures were Roxanna’s specialty. I still remembered the day I met her, clear back in grade school. One day, Lexie and I were riding our bikes to the park when a pink scooter zipped out in front of us, and we’d landed in a pile of scrapes and bruises along the edge of the sidewalk. After untangling ourselves, we’d gone head to head with a sassy girl wearing a designer sun dress and sparkly sandals, her black hair tied up into pig tails with frilly ribbons.

I demanded she apologize because I knew I’d have to hear about the bruise on Lexie’s knee for at least a week. Roxanna had tilted her head with a pout, and reached for her studded hand bag resting in a pink basket on the front of her scooter. She’d asked how much it would cost for our silence, and then proceeded to invite us to her house to swim in her new pool. She’d also tossed in a manicure party if we promised not to hate her forever, pinkie-swear with sugar on top. The whole experience had been bizarre, but we’d followed our new friend and her pink scooter down the street anyway.

We’d been best friends ever since.

“The whole dating thing, I’m not giving you a choice in the matter. It’s a necessity now.” Lexie paused for dramatic effect, waving her hand in the air. The light reflected off a ring on her finger—a huge diamond I hadn’t seen until now. Had she slipped it on sometime between Roxanna announcing me getting laid to the bar and me reminiscing about our friendship? There was no way she’d been wearing it all night. I wouldn’t have missed a rock that size.

“Holy crap,” Roxanna breathed.

Lexie beamed. “I’m getting married and you, dear sister, need a date for the engagement party.”

I grabbed her hand, nearly dragging Lexie on top of the table. “That thing is
huge!
”

“Ouch.
Jeez
, Gen,” Lexie said, grasping the table with her free hand.

“Sorry,” I mumbled, but I didn’t let go. It was the biggest rock I’d ever seen. In person, anyway. Jeremy Buchanan could afford it; his family was loaded. His grandfather had just donated a wing to the family alma mater, his great-grandfather had been a Senator, and his great-great-grandfather a decorated war hero who jumped into a career in politics. They were the blue bloods of Nebraska and his parents never missed a chance to point it out at a cocktail party.

“You’ll get an arm cramp carrying that rock around.” I let her hand go.

Lexie squealed and raised her hand to admire the diamond under the soft lamp light over the table. “He proposed last night.”

“You waited to tell me?” I frowned in disappointment and eyed the ring. A year ago my twin and I had discussed the possibility of a double wedding, even a double honeymoon. Brent and Jeremy were best friends, and as twins who’d done everything together since birth, a double wedding sounded fun. Perfect, really.

And now, Lexie had moved on to that future while I’d moved on alone.

“I didn’t want to tell you over the phone, silly. You’re my person.” She reached out to squeeze my hand resting on the table. When she let go, she wiggled her fingers to flash the diamond. “I wanted to be able to celebrate with you.”

When I didn’t say anything, my eyes riveted on the rock, Lexie said, “This is when you jump up and down and be excited for me.”

I snapped out of my stupor and stood to yank Lexie into my arms, pressing my cheek against her soft hair. It smelled of her favorite cherry blossom body spray. I smiled and squeezed her in my arms. “I’m very happy for you, Lex.”

Roxanna joined the hug, putting her arms around us both. “I’m your person, too!”

Lexie laughed and broke out of our embrace. Adjusting her blouse, she said, “I know. That’s why you’re here celebrating with liquor.” The waitress set down the tequila shots and Lexie grimaced. “I’m going to have a headache tomorrow.”