Читать книгу Rom-Com Collection - Kristan Higgins - Страница 22

CHAPTER TWELVE

“I DON’T SEE WHY YOU GIRLS needed me to drive you,” Faith’s father said as they pulled into the parking lot.

“Because we need you to protect us from disgusting men, Mr. H.,” Colleen said. “Though if you’d marry me, I wouldn’t be reduced to Singles Shooting Night.”

“Please, Dad. We’ll both feel better if you’re here. And Coll, no more proposing to my father, okay?”

The plan was to get Dad out in the world of senior citizen singletons and show him that there were women who weren’t quite as, er, carnivorous as Lorena. Two days ago, Honor had caught the woman in Dad’s bedroom, going through Mom’s collection of antique perfume bottles. When Honor confronted her, Lorena said she’d gotten lost on her way back from the bathroom, which didn’t explain why she was making a list. This had resulted in a phone call from Honor, saying that if Faith wasn’t up for the job, she’d do it herself.

But Faith was trying. She wanted nothing more than for Dad to find a nice woman, though it was still shocking that after nineteen and a half years, someone like Lorena had wormed past his shield. Tonight, she’d opted for the more personal route, completely unable to imagine her beloved dad with StillHotGranny or NotDeadYet, the most recent listings on eCommitment/SeniorLove.

And so, Singles Shooting Night (Ages 21 to 101! the ad had merrily announced) here in Corning, which got Dad out of town and might make him a little more relaxed...he’d always tended to blush and mutter around interested women (except Lorena—again, probably because he was so clueless). And sure, Faith had it in the back of her mind that maybe, just maybe, she’d meet a sweet and wonderful man. One who looked like Jake Gyllenhaal, maybe. Or Ryan Gosling. She’d take either. Or both. Why not? A girl could dream.

As for the whole weapons aspect of the evening, well. There wasn’t much in terms of singles events around here, if you didn’t count setting a fire to a hay bale so the Manningsport Volunteer Fire Department would come out, which Suzette Minor had done last week. According to Ned, Suzette had then been asked out by Gerard Chartier, so maybe there was something to be said for arson. But Singles Shooting Night had a certain metaphoric truth, Faith thought. You’d aim, fire and hit or miss. We met over a Glock, and she nailed the target right in the face, and I just knew.

“Game faces on, people,” Colleen said as they got out of the car. Dad grumbled but followed her inside, removing his cap and running a hand through his silver hair.

“Daddy, don’t forget you have to talk if a lady approaches you,” Faith said. “Be nice.”

“We should’ve brought Lorena,” Dad said. “I think she’s interested in getting married again.”

“Oh, she is, Mr. Holland,” Colleen said. “She’s got her eye on you, don’t you know.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” he said, smiling fondly.

“Does she put out?” Colleen asked.

“Coll! Come on!”

“I— We...ah, we don’t...well, she’s fun and all, but...uh, here you go, girls.” He held the door to Zippy’s Gun & Hunting and then went inside. Plenty of people crowded into the shop, Faith thought. Lots of white hair.

“Hello there,” a man said to Colleen’s boobage, which was on excellent display, as ever. He was around seventy, and Colleen smiled slyly. She’d often voiced the opinion that she had the makings of an excellent kept woman or trophy wife.

Faith had to give the organizers credit: at least there’d be something to do in addition to the usual chatter/interrogations that went on at singles events. Kill each other, for example. She tried not to sigh as Coll wandered off.

Her parents had grown up together, childhood friends, dating since tenth grade, when Dad had caught Mom’s shoe at a church dance—the boys had lined up on one side of the room, the girls on the other, and the girls had been told by the reverend to throw one shoe, then find the boy who caught it and dance with him. Mom had admitted to hurling her Ked at John Holland “like Don Larsen throwing to Yogi.”

Then again, maybe they weren’t the best example.

Colleen returned. “I already have three phone numbers,” she said. “So old school. Two of those guys don’t even have a Facebook page.”

“Well, you’re tapping into the artificial hip crowd, Coll, what do you expect?”

“You see anyone for you?” Colleen asked, peering around. A man wearing overalls—but no shirt—leered at them, but Coll just laughed and said, “In your dreams, pal. Eesh. Avert the eyes, Faith. I don’t think he’s wearing underwear.”

By and large, the attendees were female and over fifty. She and Colleen definitely stood out. There were...let’s see...seven men, not counting Dad. Speaking of, her father approached. “Sweetie, what should I do?” he asked. “Two women have already asked for my phone number.”

“Oh, great!” Faith said, patting his arm. “Very flattering. Maybe you should meet one of them for coffee. I’m sure they’re very nice.”

“I don’t think so. I’m not really interested in dating.”

“Dad, Lorena is circling you like a great white. I think she thinks you’re dating.”

Dad gave her a confused look. “No. She’s just fun. A nice person. Very vivacious.”

Faith paused. “Dad, we’re pretty sure she’s after your money.”

“I have no money. I have four children instead.”

“She was cataloguing Mom’s perfume bottles.”

“Oh, those things. Your mommy sure did love them. I thought they were dust collectors, myself, but...” His blue eyes softened at the memory, and Faith’s heart tightened. She had to find him someone else. He deserved it.

A woman edged closer. Nicely dressed, age-appropriate. Faith gave her a tiny nod and turned back to her father.

“Dad, if you think Lorena’s fun, maybe you’ll like talking to other women who don’t discuss thongs with your teenage granddaughter.”

“Did she do that?” Dad asked, suitably shocked.

“Ask Abby.”

“Give someone else a shot, Mr. H.,” Colleen said. “See what you got. Oh, that guy is giving me the eye. Back in a flash.” Colleen dashed off to another septuagenarian, this one with a walker, and tossed her shiny hair.

“Hello there! I’m Beatrice,” said the woman who’d been eyeing dear old Dad. Attractive, lively, smiling. A contender, in other words. She spoke to Faith, rather than John. “Aren’t you beautiful! I love red hair.”

Nicely played, Faith admitted. Go straight for the child. “I’m Faith, and this is my dad, John. He’s a widower.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry for your loss,” Beatrice cooed, her eyes sparkling with delight. “I’m divorced, three kids, four grands.”

Dad didn’t answer, so Faith gave him a hearty nudge to the ribs. “Oh, uh, I’m...uh hello. John. John Smith.”

“Dad,” Faith muttered.

“I have several children myself,” he said. He was sweating already. Faith stepped discreetly away, pretending not to see Dad’s pleading look.

Colleen intercepted her near the refreshments table. “The guy was impotent. I mean, come on. I’m willing to overlook certain things, but that? No. Says his heart condition prevents Viagra, so thus ends our courtship. Oh! Faith, check that out. If the flip side is half as good as what we’re seeing, I think we’ve found your soul mate. That, my friend, is a great ass. Do you concur?”

“I concur most heartily.”

The man was not old, nor did he have a walker. Score two points. Jeans (yes, she checked out his ass first, what else was a girl to do when presented with that side of a man?), a green T-shirt, the sleeves tight around his gorgeously muscled arms. Broad, solid shoulders. Short dark blond hair.

An icicle sliced through the warm curls of lust that were starting in her girl parts. He turned toward them. Yep.

“Oh, my God, it’s Levi!” Colleen exclaimed. “What’s he doing here? Don’t tell me he’s cruising these pathetic singles things?”

“I hate to point it out, but we’re cruising these pathetic—”

“I know, but I’ve seen up close how that man has to fight off the hordes of hungry females in our town.”

Faith glanced at her. Colleen was unabashedly, er...open about liking sex. “You and Levi ever...?”

“Oh, no. He’s too young for me.”

“He’s our age, Coll.”

“I’m aware of that, Faith. No, I like them broken in.”

“That sounds filthy.”

“Trained. I like them trained.”

“That’s worse.” Faith grinned.

“Okay, I’ll stop. Hey, Levi, come on over, bud!”

“No, don’t, Colleen, you know he never... Hi, Levi.”

“Ladies.”

Colleen put a hand on his arm. “Levi, we’re looking to get laid.”

“Colleen,” Faith groaned.

Her friend ignored her. “Can you hook us up with the hottest men here? I like them fifty, fifty-five plus. Don’t mind a little beer belly. Missing limb is okay, as long as it was lost heroically. I don’t want some dumb ass who cut off his own hand chopping wood.”

“Got it,” Levi said. “Been through the population of Manningsport, Coll?”

“Don’t be catty. Seen anyone who might be Faith’s soul mate?”

“I’m just here to keep my dad company,” she muttered.

“Which is not to say we weren’t just checking out your ass,” Colleen added.

“And you, Levi?” Faith asked, feeling the heat prickling not just her cheeks, but her throat and chest, too. “Looking for Mrs. Cooper the Second?”

He gave her a long, unblinking stare. A nine on the scale, sort of a So this is what hell is like look. “I’m the instructor,” he said.

Great.

“Hey, Levi,” her father said, having extracted himself from Beatrice of the voracious eyes. “How you doing?”

“Good, thanks. The girls say you’re...”

“Let’s not talk about it,” John suggested.

“Fine with me,” Levi said. “I need to get started.”

“Sure, sure, do your thing, hottie.” Colleen smacked him on the shoulder, then mugged for Faith as he walked away. “I would ride him like a Brahma bull if he were twenty years older.”

“Colleen, you’re a hoot,” Dad said, chuckling.

“If I said that, you’d drop dead of a heart attack,” Faith pointed out.

“True enough,” Dad said. At least he seemed more relaxed.

“Okay, people,” Levi called. “Welcome to...” He glanced at his clipboard, then sighed. “Target Practice for Singles.” His eyes stopped on her, and even from five yards away, she could feel his disdain. “I’m Levi Cooper, your shooting instructor for tonight. Who here is familiar with guns?”

* * *

LEVI HAD SUSPECTED THIS GIG was a bad idea. Once in a while, he taught gun safety classes here, so when Ed, the owner, had called him, he said sure. It paid four hundred dollars, and with Sarah’s textbooks costing as much as a pony, four hundred bucks wasn’t bad for two hours’ work.

He hadn’t expected to see the Hollands here, that was for sure. Or Colleen. She, at least, was fun. Faith, though...she had some bug up her ass. For some reason, she was telling every woman there that he was single, too. “Oh, Levi’s wonderful,” he overheard her say to a woman who looked much like his drill sergeant. “So sensitive. Also, a war hero. I know. We went to school together. Sure, he loves older women.”

“Partner up, folks,” Levi called. “Faith, old buddy, why don’t you come over here?” It was only fair, really, that she get the guy in the overalls who’d opted not to wear a shirt tonight.

“Gosh, you’re pretty,” the guy said.

“And you should wear a shirt,” she said easily. “Really. Okay? Next time, wear clothes.” She smiled at the guy, who got the idiotic look of a man in love. Or a drunk. Slack jaw, blurred vision.

“You’ve fired a gun before, Faith, haven’t you?” he asked her.

“I have. Hand her over, Levi. I’m feeling a little trigger happy tonight.”

“You can shoot, too?” Shirtless said. “The perfect woman.”

Levi almost smiled as he walked up and down the line, instructing the amateurs on how to hold the gun, what kind of kickback to expect. Colleen had some old dude eating out of her hand, and the man certainly wasn’t complaining. One woman didn’t want to wear ear protection because it would mess up her hair. Honestly.

“I don’t know a thing about guns,” said one lady, grabbing his arm, the better to squish her boobs against him. “Can you help me with my stance?”

“Sure. Like this.” He demonstrated the proper firing stance—legs slightly spread, arms out, elbows bent, both hands wrapped around the gun. “Keep your thumbs together, your trigger finger here. Got it?”

“Can you stand behind me, and put your arms around me to make sure I’m doing it right?” She gave a wriggle of anticipation.

“No, ma’am. Sorry.”

She frowned. “Please? Pretty please? I’m Donna, by the way.”

“Sorry, ma’am. We have rules.”

“That woman said you’re ex-military,” she murmured huskily, jerking her chin down the line at Faith. “I won’t lie. I find that very hot.” She trailed a finger along the bottom of the crossed swords of his 10th Mountain Division tattoo, making his skin crawl.

“I have to move on.” He glanced at her partner, who was doing a finger stick to check his blood sugar. “Good luck, sir.”

The sound of gunfire still made him flinch a little. Another good reason to be here. Desensitization.

After the target practice, the participants were supposed to sit down and talk in eight-minute segments, then move on. Like anyone would need eight minutes to tell. Nina, his ex-wife, had been a helicopter pilot who’d picked up his patrol during a messy skirmish, and ten seconds into their conversation, he’d already known they’d be sleeping together. Three days later, he’d been thinking marriage, kids, a little house back home.

Then again, Nina had dumped him thirteen weeks into the marriage.

Whatever. Target practice was almost over. In an hour, Levi could lock up and go home, and hopefully sleep better than he had last night, although gunfire wasn’t the best sound to have echoing in your head before bedtime. Maybe he’d bake some cookies for Sarah.

He stopped to check on a couple who actually seemed to be having fun, gave the guy a tip on aim and moved on. John Holland was in the next lane. He wasn’t shooting, though. He was being hunted, practically pinned against the wall.

“Feel them,” said the woman who’d claimed him as partner. “They’re just like the real thing. I said to myself, ‘Carla, do you want to have droopy old boobs for the rest of your life?’ This was my sixtieth birthday present to me. Implants, double D, peanut oil. Go ahead. Take a squeeze.”

“Hey, John,” Levi said. “Could you give me a hand with something?”

The man leaped at the chance. “Thank you, son,” John breathed. “God, I miss my wife.”

“Don’t give up yet.” He glanced at his chart. “Okay, yeah, this lady seemed nice.” They approached another woman who was firing with great efficiency. “I’d be gay for Ellen,” she was telling the man she was with. “She has a great ass.”

John’s face turned a shade whiter.

“Moving on,” Levi said.

“This was my daughter’s idea, and I just don’t... I think I’m going home. Do you see Faith and Colleen?”

Levi glanced down the line, where Faith was leaning against the wall in the last stall, Shirtless pouring on the charm. She saw Levi and gave him a subtle finger. “Know what?” he said. “It seems like she’s having a great time. Colleen, too. How about if I drive them back?”

John nodded. “That’d be great, Levi. Thank you.” With that, he hurtled for the door.

A little while later, the guns, ear and eye protectors stowed, the now-unarmed single people sat in the shop area of the gun range. The walls were lined with rifles, locked glass cases housing ammo and pistols. Metal chairs had been brought in, and the single people sat facing each other in a long line. It looked like visiting hours at a prison, minus the phones.

“Have you seen my dad?” Faith asked him as he walked past.

“He left,” Levi answered, not pausing. He heard her squawk and turned around. “I’m driving you and Colleen home.”

“Or I could,” Shirtless Joe offered.

Levi leaned against the wall and checked his phone. Four texts from Sarah. I have 0 friends. Can u come get me?

Feel sick was the second.

Stop being an ass, u can’t make me stay here was the third, and the fourth was simply I hate u.

Sighing, he stepped into the hallway to call her back. Got her voice mail. Honestly, why had he bought her a phone if she just used it for texting?

“Sarah, stop being such a drama queen, okay? You can come home on Columbus Day. You need to make some actual human friends.” He paused, picturing her at a party with a bong and a bag full of Ecstasy. “Or just study more. Keep up those grades. All right? I have to go.” He paused. “Bye.”

Ten seconds later, his phone buzzed. Still hate u. And ur 1 2 talk. Get a life & stop obsessing about me. U need 2 get laid.

Inappropriate, he texted back. Oh, and by the way, he’d love to stop obsessing about Sarah, but she texted or called at least ten times a day. Would it be wrong to strangle her? Probably.

Levi rubbed his eyes. The truth was, both of them needed to get a life. These past two years, with Nina leaving and Mom’s cancer...it’d been rough. And he and Sarah were closer because of it. But when your family shrinks to two, it got to be a little hard sometimes, the only shoulder for Sarah to cry on.

The door opened—Colleen. “Hey, Chief. Come on in here. Let me practice on you.”

“Sounds so dirty, O’Rourke.”

“In your dreams, Cooper.”

“In my dreams, definitely,” he said.

“Ooh, wanna talk dirty? Bet I could win.” She raised her eyebrows and grinned.

“You would,” he acknowledged. He liked Colleen, one of the few who’d never treated him differently after he’d come back. Her brother, too, and Jeremy. And Faith, now that he thought of it, though Faith had an edge to her he didn’t remember. It was better than Princess Super-Cute.

Colleen towed him back in the room and gestured to one of the empty metal chairs.

“Just sit there and look pretty,” Colleen said, taking a seat. “Let’s pretend we don’t know each other. We’re supposed to ask three questions each. I’ll go first.”

“Of course you will,” he murmured.

“What’s your favorite food?”

“Cheeseburgers made at O’Rourke’s,” he answered.

“Oh, good answer!” she said, clapping. “What’s your favorite color?”

It was such a girl question. Did he even have a favorite color? Blue? Red? “Green,” he said.

“Super. And last one, what’s your favorite position?” She gave him a leer, and Levi just smiled. “Well, points for trying,” Colleen said. “I was gonna write it in the bathroom stall at the bar. When are you gonna start dating again, Levi?”

“Three questions was all you got.”

Someone’s watch or phone beeped, and all the women got up and shifted. Colleen blew him a kiss. He nodded back. The next woman was the one who’d stroked his tattoo. Her questions were, Do you believe in love at first sight, have you ever spanked a woman and what’s your favorite color. His answers were no, no and red.

“Okay, ask me anything,” she said.

Levi sighed. “Um, what’s your name?”

“Donna. I already told you that.” She gave him a huge smile and squeezed her arms together, making her leathery cleavage swell. “Want to come back to my place and work on that spanking?”

For crying out loud. “I think it’s still my turn for questions. Uh, what’s your favorite color?”

“Pink! I’m actually wearing pink underwear. Want to see?”

“Still my turn. What are your views on the Mideast peace talks?”

“I think everyone should totally get along, don’t you? Want to go out sometime?”

Mercifully, the timer sounded again. “Nice meeting you,” he said.

Faith sat down in front of him. The night just kept getting better. “Oh, my gosh,” she said to the departing lady. “I think he likes you! He was just checking out your ass.”

“Shut it, Faith,” he muttered.

“Really?” the woman said. She slapped her own butt and winked at him.

“Looks like you made a friend,” Faith told him. “That’s so you, Levi. Such a friendly person.”

“Do you have three questions?”

“I do, actually. Not that I want to date you, of course.”

“Yes, I remember.”

That got her. Pink rose in her cheeks (and neck...and chest, there was the mighty rack again, showcased in a red V-neck, and really, there was nothing like a redhead in red). She unfolded a piece of paper. “Have you ever been in prison?”

Okay, well, at least it wasn’t his favorite color. “No.”

“Have you fathered any children, and are you involved in their lives if so?”

“No kids.”

“How many women have you slept with?” She gave him a knowing look. “If you can count that high, that is.”

The number wasn’t as high as his reputation, apparently. “Pass. Next question?”

“Can you provide me with your social security number so I can run a background check on you?”

“Hard to believe you’re still single.” He lifted an eyebrow at her, and she folded up her list, making a huffing noise.

“Don’t crinkle your forehead at me, Levi Cooper. Questions like this cut through the garbage. Who cares if you like moonlit walks or love old movies or if you’re married or gay or live in your mother’s basement?”

She had a point. “I hate old movies,” he said.

“Me, too. They’re so schmaltzy. Give me a horror flick any day.”

“I like horror movies, I don’t live in my mother’s basement, I’m not married and I’m not gay,” he said.

And all of a sudden, an electric current seemed to hum between them. She seemed to feel it, too, because her cheeks flushed, and her eyes seemed to soften. You need to get laid, his brain reminded him.

Shit. Not with Faith Holland and all her baggage. No matter how much his body was starting to growl.

“Exnooze me,” came a baby voice, and Levi jumped as something nudged his ear. It was Donna, and holy hell, she had a puppet on her hand. A pig, waving at him. “Do you wike animoos? I wuv dem!” Her voice changed back to normal. “I do puppet shows at children’s parties. I love kids, don’t you? I’d like to have a few.”

Faith smiled at him, the timer sounded, and both women went on to someone else.

* * *

SO FAITH HADN’T FOUND her future husband. She hadn’t really expected to, but she’d gotten three phone numbers for Dad and would begin screening tomorrow. The night wasn’t a total bust.

Levi drove in manly silence all the way home; she asked him to take Route 54 instead of Lancaster Road, but he hadn’t asked why; just grunted and done as she requested.

You know, for a second there, she could’ve sworn that something had passed between them. Maybe. Whatever it was, imagined or not, it had vaporized almost instantly.

“This was such a good idea,” Colleen said. “Sugar daddy, here I come.”

“I just feel bad that my father left,” Faith said.

“I just feel bad that you won’t let me marry him,” Coll returned. “Wouldn’t I make a great stepmother?”

“He’d be dead in a week,” Faith said.

“Levi, did you find anyone? That lady with the tattoos, she was kinda hot.”

“Or the puppeteer,” Faith couldn’t help adding. “Very kinky.”

“I was just there as the instructor,” he said.

“Well, you should find a nice girl,” Colleen said. “I’ll be on the lookout.”

“No, thanks.”

Colleen sighed dramatically. “Faith, his heart was broken when his evil wife left him. We have to help.”

“Do we?” she asked. “He seems to want to be left alone.”

“Correct,” he said, glancing in the rearview.

Pretty eyes. Levi Cooper definitely had pretty eyes.

She kind of hoped Levi would drop Colleen off first. Why, she didn’t know, but the thought of being alone in the car with Levi Cooper made her knees tingle.

But, no. Geographically, the Old House came first, and sure enough, Levi pulled into the driveway. She said goodbye to Colleen, thanked him for the ride, then stood, watching them back out, oddly jealous that Colleen would have three more minutes in the car with Chief McYummy.