1
Back to the drawing board
“Iamindeed.”Tracesmiledwith maximum believability to her cheer, lifting the brilliance to her eyes. Few saw past the façade, and she hoped to hell her twice-over ex’s sister wasn’t one of them. “I thought a picnic date sounded romantic.”
Zoe snapped closed the clamshell containers and stacked them in the paper bag. “Must be someone special.” She scooped it in one hand and carried it across the kitchen. “Don’t make me ask who.” Holding the bag hostage, Zoe stalled, waiting for Trace to fess up.
Whowas exactly the right question. So many first dates, and she was going to have to make a spreadsheet. Untried but ripe with possibility, a picnic first date might get chilly. So, ha, either end early if it wasn’t going well. Or if sparks were flying, take a drive into the national park and get cozy someplace isolated.
Tension burrowed deeper under her shoulder blade like a damn knife, and Trace uselessly tried to stretch it out before reaching for the bag.
Chocolate eyes brightening with devious pleasure, Zoe pulled it just out of reach.
“Fine,” Trace huffed, a twitch of a genuine smile dancing into her expression that had everything to do with Zoe and nothing to do with the next few hours of her life. “He’s no one you know. A friend from grad school.”
“Yet he came all the way to Foothills, just to spend time with you on this fine afternoon?”
Ha. Not exactly. Keeping her tone light as the late summer breeze, Trace rested her hands on her hips and said casually, “He’s in the area for a meeting.”
Chin tipping up, Zoe probed for more details. “An ex?”
“No,” Trace answered fast, leaning back and peeking out the doorway to ensure Finn was busy with customers at the bar and wouldn’t overhear. Lowering her voice, she said, “I’ve had my fill of re-visiting the past. Draven and I never dated, but I think there was chemistry.”
“Highly suspect. Why didn’t you go out back then, considering said chemistry?”
“I don’t know.” Trace let the happy face drift away. “I should have asked him out.” But she didn’t.
Zoe set the bag on the counter and leaned her hip against the stainless-steel work counter, and Trace knew she wasn’t making a clean exit until she tossed a few breadcrumbs. “Who initiated the date? Is it officially a date, or a ‘catch-up, let’s see if there’s a spark?’ Where does he live?”
“Alright,” Trace said, resisting the urge to grab the bag and run. “It has not been labeled as a date by either of us, but he called a few days ago and said he was going to be in Seattle for a conference, and what did I think of meeting up with him for lunch? He said he always wanted to see my hometown.”
Zoe nodded knowingly, a single dark, sculpted eyebrow lifting wickedly. “That’s promising.” Zoe peeked around Trace and checked that Finn was still busy. She whispered, “If the sparks are smokin’ hot, what’s your plan?”
“I don’t have a plan.”
“You need a plan. Where are you going to go if things go well? I’ve got some blankets and stuff in the back of my car that you could borrow, in case you decide to sneak off somewhere wild.”
Sigh swelling in her chest, Trace relented to a self-effacing laugh to relieve the pressure. “I don’t think he’s a wilderness sort of guy.” As her imagination plummeted to depths she wouldn’t admit to out loud, Trace still couldn’t picture how to transition from a pleasant picnic in the park to a backwoods romp. “Can I please have my food so I’m not late?”
“Okay,” Zoe said, winking before releasing her grip on the stiff paper handles. “You are my test subject. Let me know what you think. I’m not sure yet about the choice of greens. Do the cranberries, turkey, and walnuts go well with the spinach, or should I do mixed greens? I should have candied the walnuts. Dammit. Next time. I’m not sure about the dressing either, so let me know if the vinaigrette is okay or if I should go creamy to blend the flavors better.”
Trace stifled her laugh, but even she couldn’t block the stunned mirth from twitching up the corners of her lips. “You made Thanksgiving dinner salads for my September picnic lunch date?”
“Yes. I’m hoping to add it to the menu in time for Thanksgiving, so I am counting on your full report.”
Trace hooked the bag in her hand and mock-saluted. “Duly noted.”
Zoe’s laugh chimed as Trace wove around the end of the bar and around the tables. Trace glanced back for one more wave, only to see traitorous Zoe dragging Finn into the kitchen to report in on Trace’s plans for the afternoon. Great. So much for privacy. As if having her ex hook up with her best friend—and remain one of her best friends—hadn’t been weird enough, now he was privy to her dating life.
She would say sex life. But… yeah. One had to have sex to use that phrase. Even a second date would be an improvement. Without another look back, she shoved the solid wood door open and stepped onto the sidewalk.
The scent of sun-warmed cedar filled her nose as she walked through the heart of Foothills proper, but there was an underlying chill fingering the breeze, whispering for the leaves to start sapping their green and for humans to dig out their sweaters and raincoats from the back of their closets. Trace adjusted the snug waist of her sea-foam green Ponte pants and picked up the pace toward her car. In light of the transitional weather, Trace wore a lightweight charcoal gray sweater with a coordinating cardigan.
Shit. Trace looked down and grumbled a pout. For a hot date, in a pathetic effort to look sexy, she’d chosen a practical sweater set… coincidently, the exact outfit she wore to work on Monday… and, oh shit, the Monday before that.
Ugh.
Once the next cluster of cars filtered past, she slipped into the driver’s seat of her sedan. Foothills was busy with tourists year-round, but the last sunny weekend brought swaths of hikers, or really anyone who was content to sit outside and simply breathe, look, and listen to nature. A few wisps of clouds overhead, but nothing to suggest the picnic would be ruined by rain. Her reliable and aging sedan fired right up and she eased into traffic.
