shrugged. “I fished with my dad. My family camped. I was in the ski club in high school. It’s hard to be a couch potato around here.”
“Are you going to call them?”
“My folks?” His expression became flat. “No. They’d want me to come down and visit, and I can’t. Plus I don’t particularly want them to know I’m one of Ronnie’s entourage. Although they’ll probably find that out when the show starts broadcasting next week. I can’t imagine my sister will let that get by without telling them.”
Monica felt a little like wincing. After all, she’d gotten him into this. “Will they be upset?”
His lips curved into a slightly sour smile. “On the contrary. My mom might be ecstatic. She’s been trying to get me hooked up with somebody for a couple of years now.”
Crap. “She’ll think it’s real?”
He shrugged. “She might hope it was. And I’m not sure I’ll have the heart to tell her the truth, or tell her all of it—that I’m just sort of window dressing. So she may be hurt when I’m eliminated.”
Monica stared back at the dancers again, feeling her shoulders clench. “I guess some people do believe the whole matchmaking thing. I mean, I think Ronnie does. I might have once upon a time. When I first starting working for Fairstein.”
He rolled his beer bottle between his fingers. “When you were young and innocent? How long have you worked for them anyway?”
She sighed. “Two years. More like two and a half. Long enough to wise up anyway. How long have you been there?”
“Less than you. Maybe eighteen months. Enough for two cycles of Finding Miss Right. ”
She gave him a dry smile. “And how long did you keep your innocence, Mr. Dewitt?”
He grinned again, his teeth flashing white in the darkened room. “I never really had any, Ms. McKellar. One conversation with Donovan pretty much took care of that.”
“Oh yeah, Glenn’s a full-on realist.”
“I thought we weren’t going to talk about work,” Paul said gently.
She sighed again. “Sometimes I don’t think I have much else to talk about these days. Fairstein sort of eats your life.”
“Only if you let it.” He watched her for a long moment. “Think of Salt Box as a two-day pass. It’s not your fault you’re here, well not entirely anyway.” He gave her another quick grin that made her pulse speed up slightly. “But you can’t go anywhere else. And Fairstein can’t expect much of you as long as you’re here in Salt Box and they’re up in Elkhorn Run. So relax.”
She tried a smile of her own. “Maybe I will.”
“No maybe about it.” He gave her a more definite grin. “Come on, dance with me.”
The jukebox kicked up a song she half recognized and that she sort of suspected was ABBA. Around her people were singing along as they danced. Across the room, Ronnie had a new partner. She still wore her platform sandals, but she seemed much more steady on her feet all of a sudden. She laughed, swinging her hips to the beat. Monica wondered briefly just what had been in that chocolate martini.
Billy Joe had found his own partner and was doing a version of dirty dancing for small spaces. Brendan sat at the bar, watching Ronnie morosely as he sipped his beer.
It wasn’t really a slow tune, but Paul pulled her into his arms anyway. His hand was spread across the small of her back, warm and solid, holding her against the hard muscles of his chest. His thighs brushed hers as they danced. She looked up into eyes the color of molten chocolate, his mouth curving up ever so slightly.
Relax. She suddenly had a suspicion that might be easier said than done.
They pretty much closed the bar. Of course, that might have been more impressive had the bar stayed open later than midnight, but Paul still took it as a mark of good times. The best time he’d had in a while, oddly enough. He paused on the threshold of the Blarney Stone, considering. He went out most nights when he wasn’t working—it was part
“Are you going to call them?”
“My folks?” His expression became flat. “No. They’d want me to come down and visit, and I can’t. Plus I don’t particularly want them to know I’m one of Ronnie’s entourage. Although they’ll probably find that out when the show starts broadcasting next week. I can’t imagine my sister will let that get by without telling them.”
Monica felt a little like wincing. After all, she’d gotten him into this. “Will they be upset?”
His lips curved into a slightly sour smile. “On the contrary. My mom might be ecstatic. She’s been trying to get me hooked up with somebody for a couple of years now.”
Crap. “She’ll think it’s real?”
He shrugged. “She might hope it was. And I’m not sure I’ll have the heart to tell her the truth, or tell her all of it—that I’m just sort of window dressing. So she may be hurt when I’m eliminated.”
Monica stared back at the dancers again, feeling her shoulders clench. “I guess some people do believe the whole matchmaking thing. I mean, I think Ronnie does. I might have once upon a time. When I first starting working for Fairstein.”
He rolled his beer bottle between his fingers. “When you were young and innocent? How long have you worked for them anyway?”
She sighed. “Two years. More like two and a half. Long enough to wise up anyway. How long have you been there?”
“Less than you. Maybe eighteen months. Enough for two cycles of Finding Miss Right. ”
She gave him a dry smile. “And how long did you keep your innocence, Mr. Dewitt?”
He grinned again, his teeth flashing white in the darkened room. “I never really had any, Ms. McKellar. One conversation with Donovan pretty much took care of that.”
“Oh yeah, Glenn’s a full-on realist.”
“I thought we weren’t going to talk about work,” Paul said gently.
She sighed again. “Sometimes I don’t think I have much else to talk about these days. Fairstein sort of eats your life.”
“Only if you let it.” He watched her for a long moment. “Think of Salt Box as a two-day pass. It’s not your fault you’re here, well not entirely anyway.” He gave her another quick grin that made her pulse speed up slightly. “But you can’t go anywhere else. And Fairstein can’t expect much of you as long as you’re here in Salt Box and they’re up in Elkhorn Run. So relax.”
She tried a smile of her own. “Maybe I will.”
“No maybe about it.” He gave her a more definite grin. “Come on, dance with me.”
The jukebox kicked up a song she half recognized and that she sort of suspected was ABBA. Around her people were singing along as they danced. Across the room, Ronnie had a new partner. She still wore her platform sandals, but she seemed much more steady on her feet all of a sudden. She laughed, swinging her hips to the beat. Monica wondered briefly just what had been in that chocolate martini.
Billy Joe had found his own partner and was doing a version of dirty dancing for small spaces. Brendan sat at the bar, watching Ronnie morosely as he sipped his beer.
It wasn’t really a slow tune, but Paul pulled her into his arms anyway. His hand was spread across the small of her back, warm and solid, holding her against the hard muscles of his chest. His thighs brushed hers as they danced. She looked up into eyes the color of molten chocolate, his mouth curving up ever so slightly.
Relax. She suddenly had a suspicion that might be easier said than done.
They pretty much closed the bar. Of course, that might have been more impressive had the bar stayed open later than midnight, but Paul still took it as a mark of good times. The best time he’d had in a while, oddly enough. He paused on the threshold of the Blarney Stone, considering. He went out most nights when he wasn’t working—it was part
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