Déjà Date

Déjà Date by Susan Hatler Page A

Book: Déjà Date by Susan Hatler Read Free Book Online
Authors: Susan Hatler
Tags: Romance
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hosting a girls’ night. All I had left was to force myself into that hot air balloon on Sunday, despite the massive fear creeping up my throat just thinking about it. Then I could get my inheritance first thing Monday morning.
    I’d had my mom double-check the balance of my pending inheritance funds and the amount was just enough to cover Bernie’s full asking price. Due to his health condition, he’d priced to sell right away, so I wouldn’t even try to negotiate a lower price. Three more days, and the bakery would be mine. I just needed to hope neither of those buyers would be interested. And that I could survive my girls’ night.
    I put on velour sweats, a tee shirt with a bling heart (for good luck), and clipped my blond hair up in a twist. Checking my watch, I saw it was six o’clock on the dot, so I decided to pop the champagne and get a head start. I very obviously could use a drink. What if nobody showed up? My nerves frazzled even more. I trudged toward the refrigerator, then happened to glance at the dining table where I’d set up a myriad of decadent delights baked by moi —
    My eyes bulged as I stopped in my tracks and gaped at the table. Standing on top of the dining table was my sweet little hot dog, Fudge. One of her four paws stood directly in the middle of a piece of carrot cake with cream cheese frosting, and she was currently eating the last of the quiches. I gasped. Her head snapped up as I slowly approached and instead of looking the slightest bit guilty, she started wagging her tail.
    “No! Fudge, how could you?” I ran to the table, but it was too late. She’d either eaten or ruined every last snack. This was going to be one hungry crowd, because it’s not like I had back-up appetizers. Who made back-up appetizers? Someone with a dog like mine, apparently. I swooped Fudge off the table, set her on the floor, then jabbed my index finger in her direction. “That was not nice! Not nice at all!”
    She proceeded to jump up on her hind legs and attempt to lick my finger. Not exactly the look of regret and understanding I’d been hoping for.
    Ginger burst into the kitchen, wearing her running shorts and a tee shirt. Her long dark hair was up in a ponytail. “I heard yelling. What’s going on?”
    I threw my hands out. “Fudge ate our hors d’oeuvres .”
    Ginger grimaced. “Oh, no. Anything I can do to help?”
    The doorbell rang at the same time my cell phone beeped, so I gestured in the direction of the door. “Could you get that for me?”
    “Of course.” She sent me a sympathetic smile, then scooted out of the room.
    I picked up my cell phone. There were two missed calls from Nate, and a text message from him, too. I ran my fingers over the screen to open the text: I need to talk to you. It’s important.
    My fingers flew over the keyboard, and I sent back: Fudge just ate all of the hors d’oeuvres for my party, and I’m freaking out. Can we talk tomorrow instead?
    I glared at Fudge who was licking frosting off her paw. “How could you do this to me and then have the nerve to sit there looking so freaking cute?”
    My cell phone beeped in my hand, and I checked the screen: Hang tight. New appetizers will be hand-delivered shortly. And we need to talk tonight.
    A warm feeling washed over me since Nate was rescuing me yet again. First my dog who’d run after the cat, now my girls’ night. He was going to deserve a medal soon. Or a kiss. Or ten kisses. . . .
    I texted back: Thank you SO much. Really.
    Moments later, my phone beeped: Anytime, princess. See you shortly.
    My belly fluttered since he’d again used the nickname my dad had dubbed me. I could get very attached to him calling me that. Maybe it was because we’d been best friends growing up or something, but although we’d only just started dating, my heart already felt fully invested in Nate, which was both exciting and scary at the same time.
    “Let’s get this party started!” Avery danced into the kitchen with

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