Page 26

He shrugged. “Never thought much about it.”

“Exactly, because you won the genetic lottery. I can’t afford to buy a new wardrobe, so I’ve got to watch what I eat.” Heck, she couldn’t afford to take the day off, either, which meant she’d be eating peanut butter sandwiches and Ramen noodles for the next week or two.

Her finances hadn’t always been this dire. But then Nina moved out, and the rent went up, and she and Shailene hadn’t been able to find another decent roommate to lighten the load. Two more semesters, and she’d graduate with her degree in chemistry, and she could ditch her waitressing job for something with a decent, steady paycheck and benefits.

The waitress returned with their drinks and took their food orders. Nate got the chicken fried steak with mashed potatoes, cinnamon apples, and buttermilk biscuits, while Dorcas ordered the catfish with hushpuppies and fries.

Nate leaned back, resting one arm along the top of the bench seat. On the surface, he seemed aloof and relaxed, but his eyes continued to scan the crowded restaurant as if searching for signs of danger. “So were you as relieved as I was when Austin and Nina decided to elope?”

The question, and the change of subject, caught her off guard. “I don’t know. I was looking forward to seeing them get married, but it is kind of nice not to have another bridesmaid dress in my closet.” Not to mention, she couldn’t afford to buy another dress—and the matching shoes, and God knew what else—that she’d only use once. And then there was the bridal shower, bachelorette party, and a slew of other things that would have left skid marks on her credit card.

Nate raised one eyebrow. “How many bridesmaid dresses do you have?”

She did a quick mental count. “Six—no, wait, seven.”

He blinked. “That’s a lot of dresses.”

“Tell me about it. The worst part is I’ll never wear any of them again.”

“Why not?”

She picked up her drink and took a sip. “Well, contrary to what almost every bride says, they’re not the kinds of dresses that I can wear to other events. And even if I could, most of them are hideous. The worst one I have is a hot-pink taffeta ball gown with ruffles. It makes me look like cotton candy with arms.”

With that particular monstrosity, she’d been the maid of honor for her cousin, Maria. And even though she hated the dress with a passion, she had many fond memories of that loud, boisterous Puerto Rican wedding and the even louder reception that lasted until the wee hours of the morning. Two years later, Maria and her husband, Enrique, were still married and expecting their second child in a few months.

Nate laughed. “If they’re so awful, why do you keep them?”

“I suppose for sentimental reasons. Besides, it’s hard to get rid of a dress you paid over two hundred bucks for.” She leaned back against the bench seat. “Guys have it so much easier. All you have to do is rent a tux and you’re done.”

The waitress returned with a tray full of food.

“Catfish for you.” She set the plate in front of Dorcas. Then she shifted her focus to Nate, and her smile went from cordial to how-about-we-go-out-back-and-do-something-hot-and-nasty. “And here’s your chicken fried steak, honey. I’ll be right back with refills for your drinks.”

As the waitress left, Dorcas noticed Nate watching her, an amused expression on his face. “What?”

“I’m just imagining what you look like in that pink taffeta dress. I’d pay good money to see it.”

“Why?”

He shrugged one shoulder as he unwrapped his silverware from the paper napkin. “I don’t know. I guess I’m curious to see what cotton candy with arms looks like.”

“I’ll show you a picture from the wedding sometime.”

“Uh-uh.” He set the napkin on his lap. “Not good enough. I want to see it in person. Consider it payment for driving to Georgia.”

She stared at him in disbelief. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah, I’m serious. And you’ve got to wear the shoes too.”

Laughing, she shook her head. “Is this some kind of secret fetish?”

He shrugged again as he gathered a forkful of food. “Maybe. So when can I see you in the dress?”

Good Lord, the man was relentless. “Can we talk about something else?”

“Sure.” He ate a bite of his chicken fried steak and washed it down with a swig of soda. “Why did you turn me down when I asked you out?”

Dorcas’s eyes narrowed. She should have known he’d choose a topic that was more uncomfortable than the last. She stabbed a piece of catfish with her fork and shoved it in her mouth. Slightly spicy, super crispy, with a tender flaky inside, the fish practically melted in her mouth. It tasted so good she was fairly certain it would head straight for her hips. “I already told you. It’s nothing personal. You’re just not my type.”