The One You Want. Gena Showalter

sat in a daze. Dinner...with Dane. And his date.

      Date. Crap! Whom was she supposed to take? She had no prospects, because she had no social life. Despite what everyone thought, her last relationship—her only real relationship—had happened two years ago with a guy who’d used to spend the summers here. Paul Bramland. Her age, cute. But she’d refused to spend an entire night with him or introduce him to Norrie, and while he’d dealt with those quirks without much protest, he hadn’t been able to deal with her refusal to be seen with him in public. She’d explained her reasons—gossip—but he hadn’t cared. He’d left town and never come back.

       Guess I have that effect on men.

      Though other guys asked her out, she always said no. She had so little to give, and besides, she knew she’d have to endure looks and whispers if ever she gave in. Why even bother?

      “Everything okay?” Brook Lynn asked.

      No. No, it wasn’t. But rather than dump all of her problems on her friend, she said, “Do you ever just...I don’t know...cut loose? Seize the day? Have fun?”

      “Um, did you forget who you were talking to? No. I never do those things.”

      “Well, we’ve got to do something about that. We’re too young to be so...”

      “Curmudgeonly?”

      “Exactly!” She chewed on her bottom lip as she pondered ways to rectify the problem. Whatever they did, it would have to be discreet. Kenna’s reputation was bad enough. And totally undeserved! She waited on men for a living. They came to the restaurant where she worked, and she served them. If one of them happened to announce he was getting a divorce soon after, well then, some people just assumed Kenna was at fault. Like mother, like daughter.

      Not that she’d ever explain the truth to Dane. The guy she wasn’t going to think about anymore.

      “Maybe we could, I don’t know...try every flavor of Ben and Jerry’s ice cream,” she said. “Text I hid the body to a random number. Dress up like Cinderella and actually go out in public. Eat a real Krabby Patty. Get a tattoo.” Once she started, she couldn’t stop. “TP someone’s house. Solve a case with Sherlock and Watson. Discreetly ask out a boy. Oh, screw it. Boldly ask out a boy, ignoring gossip.”

      Catching her excitement, Brook Lynn said, “We could throw a drink in someone’s face. Gulp blue Gatorade out of a Windex bottle. Skinny-dip. No, no, that’s too cliché. We could jump into a body of water with all of our clothes on. Spy on someone. Speak with a fake accent for an entire day.”

      “Yes, yes, yes!” She clapped. Then, testing out her fake accent said, “Wez should doz it. Allz of it.”

      Brook Lynn nodded enthusiastically. “I’m in! It’z will be soz, well, funz.”

      “If an opportunity arises and we’re not together, we have to try to get video proof so neither of us misses anything.”

      “Deal.”

      “Momma, Momma,” Norrie called, rushing over. Her cheeks were flushed a bright red, almost a perfect match to her hair. Like Roanne, her skin was unmarred by the freckles Kenna had inherited from her father. “Sara said there’s a baby growing in her mommy’s tummy and when she asked how the baby got there, her mommy said her dad gave her a special seed. Is that true? Did my daddy give you a special seed?”

      Oh, sweet hairy balls. Kill me. Kill me now. Norrie knew nothing about her father because Kenna knew nothing. Well, she knew a little. He’d been a few years older than her, a college student, and he had not been married. “Let’s go home and I’ll explain about this, uh, special seed.”

      Brook Lynn chuckled behind her hand. “This is where I say goodbye.”

      * * *

      THE NEXT DAY was not business as usual for Kenna.

      Yes, she did her schoolwork. Yes, she spent time with Norrie, and even took her to church. But rather than go to work afterward, she spent the time stressing and scouring her closet for an outfit to wear to The Dinner from Hell. And she didn’t know why she bothered. The contents hadn’t changed in years. Mostly threadbare T-shirts and jeans with holes.

      “What do you think of this?” she asked Norrie, who sat on her bed. She held up the blazer she’d purchased at a thrift store to interview for her job at the restaurant. She’d had to rip the shoulder pads out—that’s how old the thing was—but it had obviously impressed Mr. Calbert, so...

      Norrie giggled and shook her head no.

      In the bedroom doorway, Jessie Kay said, “If it’s true a girl has to dress for the man she wants to catch, then you’re about to catch an eighties heartthrob. Congrats.”

      Fine. She discarded the jacket and grabbed her favorites. A T-shirt that read “Free Contradictions Cost $1.00,” and a pair of denims that weren’t even good enough to be given away, and called it good.

      “I love it. Total rebel,” Jessie Kay said. “Besides, it’s you. Fancy-shmancy isn’t.”

      And that wasn’t a bad thing, she told herself. I’m comfortable, dang it. “Norrie, sweetheart, are you sure you don’t want to go with me?” Kenna asked.

      “So sure. Me and Aunt Jessie Kay are gonna watch TV.”

      Brook Lynn was working at Two Farms tonight, but like Kenna, Jessie Kay had the night off. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d let the wild girl watch Norrie on her own, but just like every time before, she was a bit nervous.

      At least she had found a date. West, one of the men she’d met at the engagement party, had given her his phone number. Actually a lot of guys had, though none but West had seemed to care about getting to know her. They’d wanted an in with the Michaelsons.

      West didn’t live in town. Yet. If she was remembering correctly, he’d mentioned that he planned to move here. He was in his late twenties, and was almost as gorgeous as Dane, with dark hair, sinful brown eyes and the cheekbones and jaw of a fallen angel.