Second First Kiss

Chapter 10

Jasher

That Inchworm person had nicknamed herself accurately. She was under his skin, all right—for refusing to divulge the identity of his donation winner.

“You’ll just have to be surprised!” The evil grin accompanied the maniacal laugh with her pronouncement over the phone’s video call.

Sunday dinner he spent with Mom and Redmond, eating leftover spaghetti that would have tasted a lot better if he’d known who won his date.

“You’re sure you didn’t hear who bid on my dates?”

“If Inchy didn’t tell you, I can’t really.” Mom offered him more salad. “The last person I want to cross in this town is Philippa Ince.”

No kidding. “Redmond, hey. Buddy.”

Redmond clammed up and wagged his head. “Nope.” He was the king of nope. “Even if you beat me at darts, nope.”

After doing the dishes, the brothers went to the basement to play darts, and Redmond’s deal wouldn’t have mattered anyway. As always, the older brother beat the younger at darts.

“Look at that score. Sixty? You’re getting sloppy in your old age, Redmond.” The score was almost professional level.

“Who’s old?” Redmond slung a dart straight at the bull’s eye. “Not me!” He gave his best grin, his eyes nearly closing to slits. “Who’s the king of darts?”

“You are, pal.” Jasher punched his shoulder lightly. “I bow to you.” When he bowed, Redmond laughed like crazy. “Are you also the king of telling me who bought my dates at the auction?”

“I’m the king of not telling you that.” And Redmond didn’t.

Which left Jasher pacing back at his apartment later.

In fact, while waiting for whoever-she-was to show up at the appointed date time, Jasher paced the ten feet of his living room so many times he could have worn a rut in the flooring. Why did everyone in this town have to be so loyal to Mrs. Ince and keep the secret?

Other than she was kind of scary.

The first date he’d listed—when he hadn’t known it was about dates—was the sluice. Why on earth would someone bid on a date to the sluice? And worse, what kind of fool followed through on plans to take a potentially elderly woman into a ditch filled with dirty water? No one knew what kind of filth might lie upstream in the canal. As a kid, he’d once seen a bloated cow a mile above the place where everyone jumped into the water to slide down the canal in the sluice. Real dangers could lurk.

Hadn’t he taken an oath to do no harm? A date to the sluice definitely lay in the gray area.

A knock sounded at his door. He startled. This was it.

When he flung it open, there stood no old lady.

“Sage?” Not remotely old—so fresh, so incredibly alluring. Gulp. Grab the door frame. “What are you doing here?”

“Uh, for better or worse, I’m your date.”

For better or worse? The lines from the marriage vow bumped around his brain. Was it a subliminal message? No. Pull back, dude. “I didn’t know who’d won the bid.”

She accepted his invitation inside his lame apartment. “You don’t look pleased.”

Nothing could have been further from the truth. He was so pleased he was dumbfounded. Despite all her bravado about knowing who she wasn’t bidding on, she’d placed her money on Jasher.

A big heap o’ money, too. Why? Whose money was it? Hers?

“No, it’s just that you don’t look dressed for today’s activity.”

“Really?”

Was she confused about what his list said? “You bid on my list, right?” Had she put her donation in the wrong jar? “It was printed bold as could be on my auction sheet.”