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A Date with the Other Side

A Date with the Other Side (Cuttersville #1)(40)
Author: Erin McCarthy

She didn’t want him to say anything, and he didn’t know how to respond anyway. He couldn’t fix Amanda’s relationship with her father any more than he could fix his with his own. “So are you planning on telling him you’re here? Or is this a secret?”

“It wouldn’t be any fun if it was a secret. But I guess I won’t be here as long as I originally planned since you’re busy. I’ll leave in a day or two. Right now I couldn’t handle that cab ride back to the airport.” She rolled her eyes. “God, these people here are crazy, Boston. The cabbie wanted to talk to me, can you imagine? For an hour and a half!”

He laughed. “Why don’t you stay a week? I’ll show you around and by then you’ll be bored, but Brett will have had time to get wind of the fact that you’re here. And your landlady is a shark, by the way, but since I’m seeing her granddaughter, maybe I can get you a refund on the rent.”

“Sounds like a plan,” she said breezily. “Only I need a rental car then.”

“No problem. We’ll hook you up.” He stood up. “Now how about we head down the street for the parade, and I’ll show you all that picturesque Cuttersville has to offer.”

“Oh, goody.” Amanda sounded less than enthused. “A parade.”

“Do you want to change?” He eyed her shoes dubiously. “It’s a casual kind of thing.”

Amanda looked at him like he was insane. “I am casual. T-shirt, denim skirt. What do you want? Pajamas?”

He cleared his throat. “It’s the shoes, Amanda.”

She stuck her foot straight out and inspected her stilettos. “These are Jimmy Choo shoes, appropriate for all occasions.”

He just shook his head. “Trust me.” If his hair gel warranted discussion, he couldn’t imagine what Amanda’s five-hundred-dollar shoes would do to the good people of Cuttersville.

“Okay.” She dug into her bag and pulled out a pair of pink flip-flops. She exchanged the heels for the rubber sandals and asked, “Better?”

“Better.” At five-ten, blond, and dressed like a supermodel, Amanda was still bound to attract attention, but at least in flip-flops he wouldn’t have to pull her out when her heel got stuck in the dirt.

“Aren’t you going to put a shirt on?” she asked, gesturing to his chest. “Or is that casual for men?”

He’d forgotten he wasn’t wearing a shirt. “Hang on, I’ll get one.”

“Do we have time to grab a latte?” she called after him.

He wished. “Not since grabbing one would be an hour round-trip.”

Chapter Twelve

Shelby waved her American flag at the Shriners in their little cars riding down Main Street and tried not to wonder where Boston was.

She should have gone to him this morning and asked him to come to the parade. Heck, she should have gone to him last night. No, she should have never left him in the first place.

Except that going home with him would have meant admitting that she was falling for him, and the night before, she hadn’t been ready to admit it.

This morning, after a long frustrating night alone in her twin bed, she was ready to fess up. And if she was all prepared to be honest with herself, she could sleep with Boston and be alright when it was time for him to leave. Because she knew she had feelings for him and it wouldn’t be a sucker-punch surprise, so therefore she could deal with it as she went along, sleeping with him while fully understanding she cared about him and he was leaving.

It all made sense. Sort of.

Not really. But she was running out of options.

Danny touched her elbow. “Look, there’s your mom.”

That wasn’t something to improve her mood. Her mother was riding triumphantly in a Chrysler Sebring convertible with her boyfriend, Dave Henchen, mayor of Cuttersville. Giving a queen’s wave, her mother beamed beneath her bleached hair, and thrust her always-burgeoning br**sts out at the crowd.

“Hi, Shelby, honey!” her mom called out.

Shelby loved her mother. She just wasn’t entirely certain she hadn’t been adopted. Given the territorial satisfaction on Dave’s face, her mother didn’t have any trouble having orgasms. Or giving them.

Fighting a shudder, she smiled and waved back. It really wasn’t a good idea to think that through when it wasn’t even ten in the morning yet and coffee was a distant memory.

“You know, your mom’s held up pretty good,” Danny said thoughtfully.

Shelby rolled her eyes, but he missed the effect. He was nudging her again. “Look over by the hardware store, in the crowd. Jesus, look at that blonde with Boston. She’s . . . tall.”

Given the tone of awe in Danny’s voice, that wasn’t all he was thinking. But Shelby didn’t give a care what Danny thought, not when Leggy Blonde was with Boston. Her Boston. Not her Boston, dammit. She had known that woman was here for him and she’d rolled in the straw with him anyway.

It didn’t make her feel any better when she followed Danny’s gaze and was visually reminded that Boston came from a world of beautiful women, who dieted and worked out and waxed and chemical peeled. Including that beautiful woman, who was standing way too close to him on the sidewalk as they watched the parade.

The crowd had shifted away from them, as if they were afraid to wrinkle the city folk’s expensive clothes with their John Deere T-shirts and jeans.

“Aren’t you going to say hello?” Danny asked.

“I don’t know her,” she answered testily. And didn’t want to.

“I meant say hello to him.”

“Oh.” Shelby thought about it. Shelby watched Boston whisper something in Blondie’s ear. Shelby looked down at her voluminous American flag T-shirt and dingy white shorts. “No.”

“That’s rude, Shelby. See, he’s looking right at you.” Danny nudged her again, until she wanted to nudge him flat on his ass.

What was his obsession with having her chat up Boston? Before the question even finished forming, or the drool stopped puddling in the corner of Danny’s mouth, she realized the answer. Duh. He wanted to meet Sex and the City over there.

Which infuriated her. Geez Louise, she couldn’t even count on Danny anymore. One minute he was suggesting they remarry, the next he was gawking at a blond wig on a stick.

Men. Annoying creatures.

Danny was right, though. Boston was staring at her. He gave her a smile—a hot, promise-filled smile that about seared her shorts right off even clear across the road. Bastard.

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