Page 25 of Never Pucking Ending

She’s quiet for a second, hopefully realizing how ridiculous the notion is. “You may be right.”

We both know I am, but I won’t make her say it. “His name is Dane, right?” I ask. “Jen’s son?”

“Yes. You’re the same age and he owns his own contracting business, which I’m sure you can appreciate as an entrepreneur yourself.”

I can, although I’m not sure why she’s trying to sell me so hard on this guy. “What contracting does he do? I don’t know what you think I can hire him for, especially if he’s out of state.”

“He does a little bit of everything. Jen showed me pictures of his last few projects. He redid an entire house for a client and it’s stunning, Belle. And there were pictures of a study with built-in bookcases that made me think of you. You’ll need something sturdy for the store.”

I learned from experience that the shelves you buy at Walmart bow with too much weight over time. If my personal collection of books is too much for them, a store’s worth of inventory will be ten times worse.

“And he travels for work because he doesn’t want to cement himself to one area, which makes it perfect for him to come here!” she adds chipperly.

That does sound convenient.

“Send me some of the pictures you saw,” is my answer for now. No way am I committing to hiring somebody just because our moms are friends. I won’t be cyberstalked the way Jesse was by some weirdo to appease a favor from Mom. Love her. But no.

There’s hope in her voice that I don’t think too much about right away. “Great! You’ll love his work, honey. And he’s such a sweetheart.”

I don’t like the way she talks him up, but don’t feel like deep diving into it when I’m having the best massage of my life. I’m pretty sure we’re not even supposed to be talking in here. Most of the other treatment rooms have signs on the doors saying they’re silent areas. No cell phones. No conversations. I love talking to my mother, but I never know what she’s going to come up with.

Which is how I wind up with thirty-eight photos sent to me the second we get our phones back from the lockers we put them in on arrival. And once we’re in Mom’s car, she’s peppering me with questions about what I think of his work, if I want to hire him, and if I want his number to reach out about a meeting.

“Mom,” I say slowly to get to stop throwing question after question at me. “Is this about getting somebody to help me with my bookstore or are you trying to set me up with him?”

Her long beat of silence is answer enough.

“Mooooom,” I groan.

“What?” she defends innocently. “Why can’t it be both? You need bookshelves, right? And Dane is very cute. He grew into his ears.”

The comment brings back old memories of a little boy with a big, toothy smile and ears that other children would bully him over. I never called him what they did, but I also never stopped it when I saw it happening which is just as bad.

It’s a little easier to remember my short time with the boy who apparently also had big dreams. I suppose this isn’t the worst person my mom could try setting me up with. And she’s tried plenty of times in the past.

There was Adam, whose entire personality was hiking the Adirondack Trail. When I went over to his house for a bonfire with him and his two roommates, I saw that he had no other bedroom furniture other than a hammock hanging from the ceiling and an ungodly number of plants surrounding it.

Then there was the time she introduced me to Devin, who worked at a car dealership she bought a vehicle from. He spent more time trying to get me to buy something so he could get a commission than he did attempting to get to know me. I’m pretty sure he asked more about the car I was driving than anything to do with me or my life.

I can’t forget about Purr Boy, whose name I don’t even remember. My friends and I have only ever referred to him by the unfortunate nickname he was given after the kissing incident. We went out, had a nice date, and then he kissed me after walking me back to my apartment. But he purred during it. Like a cat. Physically purred, and then asked if I was into it. Needless to say, I wasn’t. I couldn’t stop laughing, which seemed to offend or embarrass him. I never heard from him again, and on the off chance we saw each other in public he’d turn and walk the other way.

Despite her awful matchmaking abilities, maybe it isn’t the worst idea to put myself out there. It would distract me from the almost moments I’ve been thinking way too much about with Jesse. The longer I obsess over things I can’t have, the harder it’ll be to move past them.

Plus, I know Dane. At least, I knew him. If he has the drive to run his own business, I can already appreciate him more than some of the people she’s wanted me to date. If nothing else, I’ll get some bookcases out of it.

“Fine,” I relent after a moment of silence.

She turns toward me, moving the steering wheel in the same direction and jerking the car to the right. “Really?”

I squeak, quickly grabbing the wheel and straightening it before we hit the guardrail. “Yes! If you don’t kill us first. What is wrong with you?”

“Sorry, sorry.” She slows down and steadies the car, taking a deep breath. “You just haven’t agreed to any of my ideas in a long time. I’m surprised.”

I don’t give her the laundry list of reasons why that is, because it’s nothing she hasn’t heard before. “Maybe it’s time. But don’t make this into a big thing. I swear to God if I hear you planning my future wedding like you did with Adam—”

“I’ll be on my best behavior,” she promises quickly, not even letting me finish the threat.

Which tells me she probably isn’t going to be on her best behavior at all. A girl could dream though.