Amber huffed and crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m happy where I am. You, on the other hand, are not, so I’m doing what best friends do and helping you find someone.”
“Best friends bring booze and pizza to movie night. They don’t set their best friend up for failure with every loser in town.”
“Maxwell isn’t from town,” she said, chasing after me as I headed for the back door. “He’s from Dawsbury.”
I huffed and rolled my eyes, grateful she was behind me and couldn’t see me as I started climbing the stairs to my apartment. Dawsbury was the next town over, there were less than one thousand people in that village, and all of them were farmers. I love my farmers, they keep me in eggs and butter and everything else I need to make cupcakes, but I have no desire to date any of them. “Great, you want me to date a guy who smells like manure and wears teat dip as cologne!”
Amber’s finger twirled around my face when I turned. “You’re kind of picky.”
I tossed my arms up in the air again. “I’ll go on the stupid date, and I’ll give your farm boy a chance, but this is it. Do you hear me? The next time you set me up with someone, I will break the date, and I’ll never talk to you again!”
“You’re the one who wanted to be in a serious relationship by thirty!” Amber exclaimed. “I’ve been trying to find you a guy, but you’re constantly finding something wrong with all of them!”
“That’s because every single one of them points out all my flaws on the first date! I’m never dating again. I’m happy being alone if every available guy is as awful as the ones you’ve set me up with so far. Keep this up, and I’ll start finding you guys to date who are equally as terrible!”
The threat made, I slammed the door and bolted for the shower. Maxwell might smell like manure, but I wasn’t going on a date smelling like sweat and sickly-sweet frosting. When I climbed in the shower and lathered up, I only felt slightly bad for yelling at my best friend. Amber was right when she said I wanted to be in a relationship by thirty. I just had no idea how impossible of a goal that would be when I made it.
I was never going to find a single guy who wasn’t an asshole in this town. When I closed my eyes to rinse the soap from my hair, the blue eyes of one Brady Pearson filled my mind and reminded me not every guy in Lake Pendle was an asshole. I just couldn’t date the only one who wasn’t.
THE MODERN GOAT WAS reasonably busy, so I asked to be seated on the patio. Besides the obvious benefit of being able to enjoy the beautiful day, if Maxwell did smell of manure, the fresh air would allow me to eat without gagging. Also, if he turned out to be as bad as the other twenty-nine dates were, the patio allowed me an escape route back inside to ditch and run.
“Can I get you something to drink?” the hostess asked after she seated me.
“A Goat’s Beard Tea would be fantastic,” I answered, hooking my purse on the edge of my chair.
The hostess assured me it would be right out, and I leaned back in the chair to wait. I had no idea what Maxwell looked like, so I’d have to guess, which could be kind of fun. Chances were good he’d be wearing a ballcap from the feed supply store, work boots with mud still on them, or a John Deere t-shirt. Some might say I’m jaded, but I’d dated enough to know what was going to happen here today. That’s why I decided to go with a Goat’s Beard Tea. It was nothing more than a Long Island Iced Tea that they renamed to fit the venue. The tourists loved the kitschy names, even if the locals rolled their eyes.
The other benefit of The Modern Goat’s patio was the view of the lake. If nothing else, I could enjoy a few drinks and a nice meal while watching the boaters on the lake. Once I exhausted my incredibly shallow well of small talk with Maxwell, I’d escape back to my apartment and sleep until tomorrow morning.
“Haylee?” someone asked from behind me, and I turned, coming face-to-face with a guy in a western shirt and jeans.
I stood to shake his hand, and my eyes drifted to his feet.
Work boots with mud.
Then his head.
Ballcap from John Deere.
I fought the snicker that wanted to burst from my lips. Did I know Dawsbury or what?”
“You must be Maxwell,” I said, shaking the hand he had extended. “I’m Haylee.”
His grip was firm, and his smile was wan. “Otherwise known as The Fluffy Cupcake.”
I bit the inside of my cheek, so I didn’t overreact. “No, my business is known as The Fluffy Cupcake. I’m just Haylee.”
We sat, and the hostess brought my drink, stopping and asking Maxwell what he would like. After he ordered a Budweiser—shocker—he settled in while I sipped my drink. “Have you ordered yet?” he asked, checking out the trendy menu of farm to table choices The Modern Goat was known for in the region.
“I was waiting for you,” I said while he read over the menu. I didn’t even have to look at the menu, I knew it by heart. Every few seconds, I noticed his eyes check me out over the top of the paper before they’d dart back to the printing again. Seriously, I want to know where the heck Amber finds these guys.
The waitress set his draft beer down and pulled out her order pad. “Are you ready to order?”
Maxwell answered before I could. “I’ll have the blue goat burger with fries.” His eyes roamed over me and stopped at my hips. “You said you wanted the raspberry chicken salad, right?”
I sucked in air at his words. Where in the hell does he get off implying I need to eat a salad instead of a burger? Setting my jaw firmly, I glanced up at the waitress. “I’ll have the blue goat burger with fries as well, thank you.”
Our waitress, Sara, a girl I’d gone to school with, smiled a smile that said she knew exactly what was going on. “I’ll put your order in. Would you like a side of fresh cheese curds while you wait?”
“Oh, yes,” I said gleefully at the same time Maxwell said no.
Sara twirled on her heel and skipped off to put in the order while Maxwell frowned. “So, tell me a little bit about yourself,” he said, his fingers toying with his beer glass. “What do you like to do for fun?”
I finished my first drink and motioned to Sara to bring a second before I answered. I was going to need a lot of booze to get through this date. My head was already swimming from the first one, but since I was walking home, I didn’t care. “Amber and I are real movie buffs. We love sitting on the couch with a bottle of wine and a pizza to watch old eighties films. I don’t have a lot of free time with running the business, so I have to prioritize what I want to do when I’m not working or sleeping.”
“I see,” he answered, nodding while looking anywhere but at me. “How about exercise? Do you like to ride a bike or run?”
“My exercise involves running between the baker’s bench and the oven twelve hours every day,” I said, my tone as sharp as a pin.
Sara arrived with the cheese curds and drink, setting both down and winking without a word. I grabbed a curd and blew on it, popping it into my mouth before holding the basket out for him. He shook his head, his lips in a thin line.
“I’m not into fried cheese,” he said after a sip of beer.
“That’s a shame. Fried cheese is the best. Wisconsin knows what they’re doing over there,” I said, eating another one and washing it down with my drink. Amber was so going to pay for this. I was going to show up on her doorstep with every asshole guy I could find in a tri-county area. Okay, so I wasn’t, but I wanted to, and that’s what mattered.