* * *
CAMMIE WAS INDEED wicked, wicked pretty. In fact, Josh’s mouth dried up when she walked into the same bar four days later. Holy crap. She wore a formfitting white dress with a deep V in the front, high-heeled red shoes and a red leather jacket, and everyone in the bar turned to look at her. Dark tumbling hair, very long but natural-looking eyelashes, red lipstick. She had a tattoo of black barbed wire around her wrist, and somehow, it all worked.
She was incredibly hot. You know. If he was being objective.
“Josh, right? How you doin’?”
He closed his mouth and stood up. “Hi, Cammie. Uh . . .” His brain wasn’t working. “Nice . . . nice to meet you. Um . . . is Cammie short for anything?” Was he making sense? It didn’t seem like it.
“Short for Cameron,” she said. “My mom was hooked on those shows where girls had boy names. 90210, Gilmore Girls, you know.” He didn’t, but nodded anyway. “Is Josh short for anything?”
He hesitated. “Joshua.”
“Oh, right.” She extended her hand for him to . . . kiss, it seemed. He took it and shook it awkwardly, as if it were Pebbles’s paw. “Very nice to meet you, Joshua,” she said. “I was totally psyched when Radley texted the other night.” She sat down, and Josh did the same. “What a doll that guy is, right?”
“Absolutely.” He swallowed.
“How did you meet him?”
“He . . . he helped me in Banana Republic and we . . . well, we became friends.” He opted not to tell her about the sobbing.
The server came over, his eyes glued on Cammie’s breasts, which, to be fair, everyone could see a lot of. It did seem a shame to hide them. “Welcome to the Eddy. What can I get you?”
“Grey Goose straight up with a twist of lemon, stirred,” she said.
“A woman who knows what she wants,” the server murmured to her cleavage. It took him another minute to force his eyes to Josh. “Sir?”
“Oh, I’ll have, um . . .” Josh fumbled with the menu. “The Apple Double Dutch?”
The server couldn’t keep from a slight eye roll. It was one of the more precious drinks on the menu. “Any food for you two?”
“We’ll have a charcuterie board, hon. Some meat, some cheese, you choose for us,” Cammie said, and Josh liked that she was bossy and friendly at the same time. The waiter drifted away, leaving them alone.
She smiled. Wow. Could he be attracted to her? She was certainly beautiful. Tall, curvy, great legs, confident. She also seemed nice. There was nothing not to like so far.
“So Josh, tell me about yourself, honey. Radley says you’re a good guy.”
“I’m a medical engineer.” Boring, hon, he could almost hear Lauren say.
“What does that mean?”
“I design medical devices.” Still boring.
“Like what? Like . . . I don’t know. Stethoscopes?”
“Well, those have already been designed, but yes.” He ran through some of his easier-to-describe devices—the needle that sensed blood flow, the chair for people with mobility issues.
“Oh, pissah!” she said, clapping her hands together. “I mean, that’s awesome, Josh. You must be wicked smart. My uncle Lou? He could use one of your chairs. My God, that man does not take care of himself. Diabetes, but does that stop him from drinking regular Coke all day and eating shit? No. It does not.”
Their drinks and food came, and the waiter smiled again at Cammie’s breasts. Josh took a swallow of his cocktail, which was really quite delicious.
Cammie took a delicate bite of cheese. “So tell me, Josh, how is a good-looking guy like you in need of a . . . whatchamacallit. A matchmaker.”
Here it came. It was still so hard to say. “My wife . . . died last winter.”
“Oh, fuck me. Hon, I’m so sorry.”
“Yeah. Thank you.” He took a big swallow of his drink, appreciating the warmth and floatiness that wafted through him. Girly drink or not, it was doing the trick.
Stay in the game, Josh. Don’t be a loser.
Cammie leaned forward and covered his hand with her own. Her eyes were impossibly blue. Blazingly blue. Did people still wear tinted contact lenses, or was she just blessed with actual turquoise eyes? “So you’re lonely,” she said.
Such a simple sentence. He felt himself getting choked up. Do not cry now, loser. Another swallow of the appley drink. He nodded, then shrugged, trying for a smile.
“Aw, honey, you poor baby. Of course you need a little guidance, then. Ease back into the dating scene. Radley was a hundred percent right in texting me.”
His drink was gone, and so was hers. His head felt a little detached from his body, but when she gestured to the waiter for a second round, he didn’t contradict her. “Where are you from?” he asked.
“Worcester.” She pronounced it “Wistah,” instead of “Wooster” like everyone else in New England, marking her as someone who’d grown up there. The waiter brought their second round and food. Josh’s drink tasted even better now.
“So what do you do, Cammie?” he asked.
“A little of everything, frankly,” she said. “I’m a hairstylist part-time.”
“Your hair is very pretty,” he said. “So shiny.” Was that a dumb thing to say? Probably.
She beamed. “Thanks!” Maybe not, then. She picked up another piece of cheese and nibbled on it with her perfect teeth. Her lipstick somehow did not smear on the cheese, or her martini glass, for that matter. Women and their magic. Their good smells and lotions and makeup and hair stuff.
He liked women.
Josh realized he was a little drunk. Not necessarily a bad thing in his case, socializing-wise, and he’d walked here, so driving would not be an issue. “What’s your dream job?” he asked, surprising himself. Thanks, alcohol!
“Oh, my God, I can’t believe you asked that. What a great question! Most men are just interested in . . . well. You know.” She straightened up. “I would love to have my own business. A salon, but also a cocktail bar, right? Get this, though. It’s just for women.”
Josh sat back, the better to listen (and not wobble).
“So you come in, see, and you get your nails done or hair cut”—Cammie gestured extravagantly—“and there’d be this makeup bar, like at Sephora? Except not grubby. Super clean. And so you could beautify right there for a small fee after your mani or haircut, with a consultant or not. Your choice. And then—this is the genius part if I do say so myself—you go to the back room, or maybe the front room, and there’s cocktails and a cute bartender!”