In Your Dreams (Blue Heron #4)(9)

“Hey, Emmaline,” Bryce said. “How’s Sarge?”

“He’s so great, Bryce,” Em said. “I owe you.”

“Aw, no, you don’t. Just make sure he’s happy.”

“Hey, girl!” Colleen called. “Want to sit at the bar?”

“I’ll take a booth, if that’s okay. I’m meeting someone.” She grimaced.

“A blind date?” Colleen was psychic about these things, as everyone knew. “You looking for someone, Em? Why didn’t you ask me? I’m hurt.”

Colleen was noted for many wonderful qualities; discretion was not one of them. “I’m not looking. I just need a date for a wedding.” She took off her parka and hung it on the hook.

“Did you ask Jack Holland? He’s always good for that. Except with me, come to think of it.”

“Well, you’re married now.”

“True. But if you just want a date, ask Jack. He loves women in distress.”

“He’s got a lot on his mind these days, I’d think.”

Colleen nodded. “He looks tired, poor guy.” She handed Emmaline a menu. “Who’s getting married?”

“My ex-fiancé.”

“Holy Saint Patrick! Okay, we need someone extremely good-looking. When’s the wedding and where?”

“Ten days. Malibu.” Em had frittered away the two weeks since she got the invitation, debating whether or not to go, whether or not to scare up a date, whether or not to simply move to Alaska and date a crab fisherman.

Colleen gave her an odd look. “Uh...is this Naomi Norman’s wedding?”

“Yes. How did you know?”

“I’m going, too. Naomi and I went to college together. Same sorority.”

“Ah. Well, she was the other woman back when I was engaged.” Might as well tell her up front.

“No! You know, I never liked her. I think she asked me to be a bridesmaid because she doesn’t have any other friends.”

“You’re a bridesmaid?”

Colleen grimaced. “Sorry. I said yes because I thought it’d be nice to get out of this snowy hell with my husband before I’m too pregnant to travel. Well, we can hang out, anyway. The resort looks great.”

“Sure does.”

“So you have a date tonight, and you never know, he might be great. I mean, they never are, but let’s keep a good thought. Wait, hang on!” She slapped her forehead. “You could go with Connor. Pregnancy brain. I’m forgetting everything, even my twin. Connor!” she bellowed toward the kitchen. “You have to go to that wedding in California with Emmaline Neal!”

“No, I don’t!” came the answering shout. “Sorry, Em.”

“No worries.” Em felt her cheeks ignite.

“Yes, you do!” Colleen shouted. “Her ex-fiancé is the groom!” And hey, why not announce her romantic woes to half the town? But it was too bad, because Connor was nice and attractive and manfully gruff.

“Stop trying to hire me out,” Connor said, appearing in the door to the kitchen.

“Fine!” Colleen said. “You’re a jerk, Con.” She turned back to Emmaline. “Want a drink?”

“Sure. Blue Point Lager, I guess.”

“Or maybe a nice glass of pinot noir?” Colleen suggested. “Sends the right message. Sensuous, but not too self-absorbed, and not too butch, either.”

“I’ll stick with beer.” She paused. “I’m not g*y, you know.”

“I know that. You just look it.”

Em sighed. “Great.”

“Put your hair down. It’s pretty.” Colleen reached over and took out the clip that was holding up Emmaline’s hair. “There. Very hetero. I’m a whiz with makeup. Just putting it out there.”

“Thanks. You must have things to do.”

“Message received. I’ll keep an eye out for your guy.” Colleen smiled and bustled away.

Colleen’s pushiness aside, Em was hugely relieved. Colleen would be at the wedding, and Lucas, too. Angela, as well. She’d have allies, in other words. Her parents were in the neutral column. It depended on their moods.

Hannah O’Rourke brought her the beer, and Em took a sip. Jerked her chin at the Manningsport Fire Department, who’d trickled in for their weekly meeting, which consisted of poker and dirty jokes.

So. What was she supposed to do at this very moment? She hadn’t been on many dates since the breakup. She’d been on, oh, let’s see now...two.

It had taken a while to get over Kevin, of course, the only man she’d ever dated, slept with, kissed or even held hands with. And those two dates had been pretty terrible. One guy had had to go to the hospital to pass a kidney stone; Emmaline was going to wait with him, but he told her to leave before his wife got there. The other guy had asked her to pick him up, then invited her in, flopped onto a couch, picked up his bong and asked if she wanted to get high and watch SpongeBob. “You have the right to remain silent,” she’d said, and so the evening had ended in his arrest.

Also, men weren’t really beating a path to her door. She’d read the books, the ones that instructed her to feign idiocy and let the man do all the work and be feminine and unavailable and all that, and she was more than willing to try. It was just that not many guys asked.