Best Dating Rules (The Best Girls 2)

“The important thing is he doesn’t want us to call him a player around this girl. Like I said, Emily is different. Sorry Bro, you can’t hide anything from me.” She whispered in his ear, “Even if you’re hiding it from yourself.”

“And this,” said Spencer, “is why I’ve never brought a girl to dinner.”

*****

Anne woke up once when Steven was carrying her. But her head hurt, and she squeezed her eyes closed again.

When next she opened her eyes, she was staring at a fluorescent light. She considered the unattractive fixture. One of the bulbs was dark at the end. What did that mean? Maybe she needed to tell Steven to change the light bulb. Would he do it himself? Or would he call someone from maintenance? She opened her mouth to call out his name, but no sound emerged. Was she dreaming? Maybe this was one of those nightmares where you try to call out for help, but you can’t make anyone hear you.

“She’s awake.”

Anne turned her head toward a woman’s voice.

“Do you want me to explain it to her? Or do you want to tell her?”

She heard Steven say, “I’ll tell her.”

Steven, the light bulb is going out. He couldn’t hear her. Or he was ignoring her. He was talking to that woman.

“I’ll be back tomorrow morning, early, before I go to my office. And we’ll decide our next step. Okay? And now you have my cell number. You will call me if anything changes. Do you understand?”

“Yes. And thank you.”

Anne drifted back to sleep.

*****

Emily’s palms were sweating. Why was she nervous? She was simply going to dinner with a friend. In fact, she was really going to dinner with a female friend. Grace was the one who’d invited her to dinner. Spencer was only a guy who was going to be at the dinner. Not that she had any reason to be nervous about dinner with Spencer anyway. And even it she wanted to date him, she wouldn’t, because he was a player.

And besides that, she wasn’t a risk-taker, like Spencer. He liked every adrenaline-pushing sport that existed. He’d be bored with her in a week. No, tonight she was simply going to dinner at Grace’s house. In fact, she planned to be certain she sat between two of the sisters, to play it safe. If she sat next to Spencer and he accidentally brushed his hand against hers, she’d probably spill her drink or break something. She still hadn’t gotten used to that tingly thing that happened when he touched her.

She paused before she knocked on the door. Maybe she should check the dessert one more time. She lifted the lid, and the sweet scent of chocolate assaulted her nose. Assured her treats were intact, she closed the lid tight again and steeled her nerves. She raised her fist to knock when the door flew open and a slim arm snaked out.

“Here she is!” Claire grabbed her hand, pulling her inside, her brown bob bouncing as she led her into the dining room.

“Hi, Emily.” Hannah glanced up from setting the table. Her dark red curls were confined to a braid.

“Are these the Hello Dolly Bars?” Olivia took the dessert from her hands, popped the lid open and pinched off a piece of the chocolate dessert to pop in her mouth.

“Olivia.” Grace spoke sternly up at her sister, who quailed despite her superior stature. Grace took the plastic container away. “Come meet Momma and Papa.”

Emily obediently followed Grace into the kitchen where she spied Spencer busy at the stove. He had on shorts and a t-shirt, and she couldn’t help but note his leg muscles again. He really looked good when he was cooking. Wow, she was thinking like a female chauvinist pig. She tore her eyes away to greet his mother, busy washing a pan in the sink.

“Momma, this is Emily... Uhmm what’s your last name?”

“Hi, I’m Emily Best. It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Marshall.”

“Connie. Call me Connie. And this is Joe.”

“Hi, Emily. We’re glad to meet you. I’m sorry it’s so chaotic around here,” said Joe. “But to tell you truth, this is normal.”

“Especially on Sunday night when Spencer’s here,” said Grace.

“Oh no. You’re not blaming this noisy mess on me; I’m just the cook,” said Spencer.

“Table’s set,” announced Hannah. “Everybody get your own drink.”

“Except you,” Claire told Emily. “I’ll get yours. Is ice water okay? Or we’ve got milk or juice?”