Tempting as Luke’s suggestion had been, Julia couldn’t spend the day in bed with him. It was bad enough that she ended up missing breakfast and Friday morning’s scheduled activities. At lunch, she casually milked her table for details, grateful to Patrick and David for providing a play-by-play of the horseback riding excursion. Julia had thought riding a horse along the beach at sunrise was about as romantic as it could get, but their entertaining commentary painted a picture that was definitely more com than rom.
Afterward, she and her friends headed to the resort kitchen. Julia adjusted the floppy puff of a pastry chef hat, pushing it out of her face. “These make us look like we’re in that candy factory episode of I Love Lucy.”
“I wish,” Andie grumbled. “Then I could eat mountains of chocolate.”
“You’ll have to settle for a mountain of cookies instead,” Julia said, halfheartedly punching a ball of dough. “Remind me why we signed up for this?”
“If I started listing all the romantic comedies with baking scenes in them, we’d be here all day.” A seasoned baker, Kat had finished rolling out her dough and was already cutting it into shapes. “As my babcia likes to say, food is an expression of love.” She grinned, glancing at the prep table next to theirs, where Harry and Sally were laughing as they worked together. Her grin faltered as their laughter gave way to arguing. “Uh-oh.”
The couple seemed to be engaged in some sort of domestic squabble. Sally was waving a wooden spoon in the air and Harry was defending himself with a whisk. “Think I need to break things up with my referee whistle?” Andie wondered.
“Nah.” Julia shook her head. “They’re just having fun with each other.” She lowered her voice. “You should have seen the two of them go at it after paintball.”
A wistful shadow crossed Kat’s face. “I wish that was the kind of fighting my parents did.”
Julia winced. Kat didn’t talk about her folks much, but Julia knew it was a messy situation. She’d told Luke she’d be glad if her parents had been the type to fight more, but that was naive. She might not like the complacent disinterest her own parents had for each other, but it was infinitely better than the volatile household in which Kat had grown up. Was it any wonder that she and her friends liked to escape into the fantasy world of romantic comedies?
She reached out and squeezed her friend’s hand.
Kat squeezed back and straightened, as if shaking off the dark cloud of her thoughts. “Baking is rom-com shorthand for bonding time,” she said. “We can have some girl talk while connecting over a domestic activity.”
“How very patriarchal of us,” Andie observed drily.
“Oh, knock that judgmental chip off your shoulder,” Julia said. “Baking isn’t a gender thing. I’ve never been good at it,” she admitted.
“We know.” Kat tittered, watching as Julia tried—and failed—to roll out her ball of dough. “You need to sprinkle some flour over the top so it doesn’t stick to your rolling pin.” She added a handful of flour to Julia’s dough. “And there’s nothing wrong with enjoying time in the kitchen. I love baking with my babcia.” Kat’s blue eyes lit with a warm glow as she tossed a dash of flour in Julia’s face. “She promised to teach me how to make kolaczki cookies this year.”
“You win.” Andie held up her hands in surrender. She wiped the flour from her cheek and groaned. “Now I’m craving your grandmother’s kolaczkies.”
“Me too,” Julia agreed, her mouth watering at the thought of the buttery fruit-filled cookies Kat’s grandmother baked only during the holidays. “Arguments surrounding traditional gender roles aside, Andie does have a point,” she added.
“I do?” Andie blinked.
“I think so.” Julia waved a hand around, indicating the other prep tables. “Where are all the guys? Why didn’t more men sign up for this particular activity?”
“Harry’s here,” Kat pointed out.
“Only because my wife dragged me,” Harry said, grinning sheepishly when the girls turned to look at him. “Sorry, didn’t mean to eavesdrop.”
“Yes, you did, you busybody.” Sally poked him in the ribs with her mixing spoon. “He’s annoyed because I wouldn’t let him join the group taking a boat out on the lake.”
“Ow!” Harry tried to grab the spoon away from his wife. “You can bake anytime you want at home.”
“And you can fish anytime we’re at home.” Sally dodged her husband’s attempts to take the spoon and poked him again. “I wanted this to be special. Something we do together.”
“We could be fishing on the boat together,” Harry countered.
“And end up seasick? Or worse, risk getting attacked by marauding seagulls?” Sally asked. “No, thank you.” She turned to Julia. “We saw what happened to you on the beach the other day, poor dear.”
“Oh, the great bikini air raid?” Julia asked, flushing. “I survived.”
“Now that was some romantic-comedy gold.” Andie grinned.
“Easy for you to say,” Julia grumbled. “You weren’t the one whose top was snatched.”
“Excuse me, that was my top,” Kat reminded her, forming the rolled-out dough into shapes.
“And I got it back for you, didn’t I?” Julia shook her head, recalling the escapade, marveling at how the seagull had followed her and Luke, returning the contraband with docile civility. A strange possibility occurred to her. “You don’t think a bird can be trained to do that, do you?”
“What creepy weirdo would train birds to steal bikini tops?” Kat wondered, still working the dough.
“Actually, that’s genius,” Andie snorted. “If someone thought of a way to do that, my hat’s off to them … or, my top, I should say.”
“You’re hilarious,” Julia observed drolly. “I mean, what if that whole fiasco on the beach was planned?”
“Why would you think so? Because it was so over the top?”
Julia glared at her friend. “Was that another play on the word top?”
“Guilty.” Andie leaned closer, lowering her voice. “But if it was planned, then you better be writing one hell of a kick-ass review of this place, because that is some top-notch service right there.” Andie grinned, clearly pleased with herself for sneaking one last bit of wordplay in.
Julia pounded her ball of dough, trying to punch down the guilt rising in her chest. Preoccupied with Luke, she’d been completely neglecting her responsibilities and had barely spared a thought for the review.
As if reading her mind, Kat asked, “Where is your serenading, seagull-chasing hero, anyway?”
Julia suppressed another wave of guilt. Hiding her identity as the TrendList writer hadn’t seemed like a big deal at first, but the charade was starting to feel more deceptive. How would Luke react if he knew she was here to write a story about her experience at the resort—especially now that he’d become an integral part of that experience? “He said he had a few things to catch up on this afternoon.”
“Maybe that means he’s on that fishing boat?” Andie smirked.
“If he is, his puns are worse than yours,” Julia said.
“Impressive, you mean,” Andie insisted.
“I have to say, I was impressed by the performance last night,” Kat admitted.
“Me too.” Andie leaned sideways, holding a spatula to her mouth like a cigar in a Groucho Marx impression. “And we’re not talking about Zach’s smooth banana.”
“Leave his banana out of this,” Kat admonished. “I was talking about Luke’s singing.” She turned to Julia, blue eyes bright with mischief. “But since we’re on the subject … How was his performance the rest of the evening?”
“Not everything is about the peen,” Julia hedged. She hadn’t told them she’d slept with Luke.
“Says the girl who got some last night,” Kat observed tartly.
Julia dropped the wad of dough she’d been kneading. She should have known she couldn’t hide anything from her friends. Not that she was hiding it, exactly. She just wasn’t ready to discuss it. Not yet.
Andie broke the awkward silence. “Don’t mind Kat. She’s suffering from a one-track mind right now.” Andie pointed to the counter. “Have you been paying attention to what she’s making?”
Grateful for the reprieve, Julia glanced at the shapes lining one of the cookie sheets and blinked. “Are those … penis cookies?”
“They are,” Kat confirmed, as she shaped another phallic ball of dough. “What can I say? My muse was inspired last night.”
“Your muse, huh?” Andie quipped, wiggling her dark eyebrows and waggling the spatula again.
“Yes. My muse.” Kat grabbed the improvised prop and smacked Andie on the butt with it. “You know how we joked about making dick pics more romantic by sending flowers with them?” Kat grinned. “I decided to take things up a notch. Instead of sending actual dick pics with bouquets, you can send a box of dick cookies with the flowers.”
“A dozen dick cookies with a dozen roses.” Andie tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Now that would make for a more interesting Valentine’s Day.”
“I feel like there should be a better name for them, though.” Kat considered her creations. “Dookies?”
“Oh my God, no,” Julia admonished, horrified.
“You are officially not allowed to name anything,” Andie declared. “Ever.”
“Fine.” Kat crossed her arms. “What would you call them?”
“Cockies?” Andie suggested.
“You’re right,” Kat agreed. “That is better.” She added another finished piece of shaped dough to the baking sheet, a veritable army of cookie cocks awaiting the oven. “Since Julia already got her bonus experience…” She paused. “And I’m referring to the serenade,” she clarified, shooting a warning glance at Andie. “When do you think we’ll get our special activity?”
“What did you choose again?” Julia wondered.
“Stuck in an elevator,” Kat said.
“Ah, going for some forced proximity.” Andie grinned. “Fun.”
“How does this all work, anyway?” Julia wondered. “Couldn’t Kat end up stuck in the elevator with someone other than Zach?”
“Unlikely.” Andie fiddled with some of the leftover dough. “One of the tasks of the game master is to monitor character interaction. A good GM will decide how and when to put various elements into motion, based on their observations, and even the most oblivious GM could figure out who Kat wants to end up stuck in an elevator with.”
“Not to mention, I’ve been trying to find excuses to ride the elevator with Zach all week,” Kat admitted. “But so far, no luck.”
Julia tilted her head. “No luck riding the elevator with him or no luck getting stuck?”
“Or no luck getting lucky?” Andie added.
“All of the above.” Kat sighed. “I’d just really like some guaranteed alone time with him, you know?”
Andie and Julia exchanged glances.
“What was that?” Kat demanded.
“What was what?” Julia hedged.
“Don’t play innocent with me, Jules. I saw you two looking at each other. You’re doing that thing.”
“What thing?” Andie asked.
“You’re judging me.”
“We’re not judging,” Julia said mildly. “We’re worried.”
“About me?” Kat stiffened. “Why?”
“Zach’s an actor,” Andie said.
“I know that,” Kat snapped.
Andie held up her hands, voice placating. “All I’m saying is, you need to remember what’s real and not real.”
“Do you honestly think I can’t tell the difference between truth and make-believe?” Kat bristled. “I’m perfectly aware that we’re participating in a simulation .”
“I’ve seen it happen before,” Andie said carefully.
“I’m here to have fun. Play the game. Live the fantasy. That’s it,” Kat insisted.
“All I’m saying is, it’s easier than you might think for things to get … confusing once emotions are involved.” Andie placed a gentle hand on Kat’s shoulder. “The rules of the game are hard to follow when you mix fantasy and reality.”
After a tense beat, Kat relaxed. “I appreciate the warning.” Her smile was still a bit stiff as she looked at them, but the anger had left her voice. “And you both should remember to be careful too.”
Julia squirmed as her friends’ words sank in. Her heart twisted. Just a few days ago she’d wondered at the possibilities. Tried to imagine where things might end up between her and Luke by Sunday. Now it was Friday, and so much had already changed; more than she ever could have imagined. What would happen in a few more days when the game was over?
“Don’t worry about me,” Andie said, bravado in full force. “Julia’s the one with the lovesick string bean serenading her. It’s not like Curt is going to suddenly show up and pull some over-the-top romantic shtick like that.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure.”
Something in Kat’s voice caught Julia’s attention. She glanced up. “I don’t believe it.” The timing couldn’t have been more perfect. Like a stroke of divine rom-com intervention, Curt was there, skirting the other prep tables as he made his way toward theirs.
“Oh my God.” Andie paled. “You don’t think he’s going to sing, do you?”
Julia noticed the stack of large white poster boards he was carrying. “I don’t think that’s his plan.”
Sure enough, when Curt came to a halt in front of Andie, he didn’t sing. In fact, he didn’t speak at all. Instead, he held up his stack of poster board. A message was scrawled across the top one in black marker.
Andie read the sign aloud. “To me you are perfect.” She snorted. “That’s not very original of you, Curt.”
“At least give the man points for trying,” Kat said. “I don’t see Zach doing anything like this.”
“Yeah, give the lovesick butter bean a chance,” Julia encouraged.
“Butter bean?” Andie’s brow furrowed for a moment, then she grinned. “I see what you did there. Fine.” She blew out a sigh. “If you can listen to your string bean sing, I can read my butter bean’s notecards.” She waved her hand, indicating Curt should continue.
He eagerly flipped through several more messages, and Andie continued to read them out loud. Soon, his stack had dwindled, the floor around his feet littered with posters.
“Will you … Be my…” Andie paused, squinting at the new message. “Eno … suld?”
“I think that one’s upside down,” Julia offered helpfully.
Curt glanced at the board and grimaced. He fumbled around, hurrying to adjust it.
“Oh!” Andie exclaimed, rereading. “Plus one.”
He nodded, shuffling through the discarded posters on the floor. He picked one up and showed it again.
I’m not a perfect man. Julia smiled softly as she read it to herself. Maybe not, Curt. But you’re perfectly imperfect.
“All right, Curt,” Andie declared. “Yes. I’ll be your plus-one.”
He beamed and held up the last card. It had doodles of stick people cheering. Julia looked closer and giggled. He’d drawn them in Packers jerseys.
Andie crossed her arms. “What would you have done if I said no?”
He flipped the card over to reveal a crowd of crying stick people, tears spraying from their sad faces.
Laughing, Andie stepped forward, rewarding Curt’s efforts with a kiss. Mission successful, he collected his poster boards and retreated from the kitchen.
“Well, that was charming.” Kat turned to Andie, a smug grin on her face. “Care to revise your earlier statement?”
“Being someone’s plus-one at a wedding is not planning my own wedding to that someone,” Andie rambled defensively. “Besides, come on. It’s Curt.”
Julia exchanged a knowing look with Kat. She wondered if her friends did that to her as well—shared glances when they thought she wasn’t looking—acknowledged awareness of the things she was trying to hide from them. Things she was trying to hide from herself.
“Was that your special activity?” Julia asked, skating away from the thin ice of her thoughts.
“The Love Actually stunt Curt just pulled?” Andie shook her head. “Nah.”
“Then what is it?” Kat wondered.
“I’m keeping it a secret.”
“Why?” Kat wrinkled her nose. “It’s not a birthday wish. Telling us won’t jeopardize your chances of it happening.”
“Maybe she’s embarrassed about what it is,” Julia teased.
“Absolutely not,” Andie declared. “I happily own my fantasies … I just don’t feel like jinxing things by talking about it.” Andie’s gaze drifted to the cookie sheet. “Besides,” she said, dark eyes glinting with humor as she poked at a doughy mound, “I’m spending my afternoon baking edible penises and just had a guy ask me out using flash cards. Do you really think I’m worried about being embarrassed?”
A commotion on the other side of the kitchen drew their attention. The resort owner, followed by her four-legged entourage, was making her way around the room, inspecting the cookies at each table.
“That has to be a violation of some kind,” Julia muttered.
“Her outfit?” Kat’s eyes widened as she took in the woman’s ensemble. “I know. What would you call that color? Orange?”
“I was referring to having dogs in the kitchen, but yes, the dress is also a crime.” Julia turned and watched as the woman moved closer. She considered the garishly bright dress, matched with a flowing shawl in the same shade of … “Tangerine, maybe?”
“I was thinking apricot,” Andie mused. “Or cantaloupe.”
“Well, it’s some kind of fruit,” Kat whispered as the dress in question, and the woman wearing it, arrived at their prep table.
“Good afternoon, ladies,” Mrs. Weatherfork greeted them grandly.
“Good afternoon.” For some reason, Julia always had the urge to bow or curtsy or something around the eccentric woman.
“I’ve just come round to peruse the goodies.” She lifted a pair of old-fashioned spectacles hanging from her neck by a silver chain and inspected their cookie sheet. “Oh, my.” She leaned in for a closer look. “Are those…?”
“Cockies,” Kat explained.
Julia swallowed a giggle.
Mrs. Weatherfork shifted her gaze, peering at Kat from behind her glasses. After a moment, she winked. “Well done, you.”
Julia bit her lip, determined to keep a straight face. Beside her, she could feel Andie’s shoulders shaking with barely contained mirth.
“I shall instruct the staff to be careful when putting your cockies in the oven,” Mrs. Weatherfork said sagely, mouth twitching as she added, “I fear these may expand quite a bit in size once they heat up.”
And with that, Julia lost it. She held a hand over her mouth, cheek hot against her palm. Her face was probably bright red from trying to hold the laughter in.
“I’ve been letting all my guests know,” the resort owner continued, blithely ignoring Julia and her friends as they snickered like a pack of middle schoolers, “we’ve added a little surprise to the week’s activities. Tomorrow night at the last supper…” She paused. “Oh dear. I’ve just realized how positively maudlin that sounds.” She frowned. “Let me rephrase that in a less biblical manner. Tomorrow, at our final evening meal together, I’ve decided we should have a bit of entertainment.”
“Do you think she hired strippers?” Andie whispered.
“That sounds nice,” Julia said, beaming at the older woman while elbowing her friend.
“And to make it even more exciting, the guests will be providing the entertainment.”
Before Andie could add more speculative commentary, Julia gave her another quick warning jab.
“Which is why I’m encouraging all of you to participate in the talent show!” Mrs. Weatherfork clapped, setting off her dogs, who began yapping up a storm. “Dress rehearsal tonight. Hope to see you all there!” And with that, the woman swept her orange Dreamsicle dress into motion as she and the barking train of corgis moved on to Harry and Sally’s table.
“Talent show?” Julia groaned.
“I still think she should’ve gone with the strippers,” Andie said. “I suppose I can show off some of my ball handling skills.” She paused, adding, “I’m talking about soccer balls, in case you were wondering.”
Kat primly wiped flour off her apron. “Some of our brains don’t default to ‘pervert.’”
“Says the girl who just rolled out a tray full of dough dildos.”
“I’ve been known to enjoy the benefits of a personal massager,” Kat said. “However, I wouldn’t recommend using these for that.”
“Point to Kat.” Julia laughed. “She got you that time, Andie.”
“That was good,” Andie agreed. “But you’re going to have to come up with something better than witty comebacks for the talent show.”
“Actually, I have an idea,” Kat began, voice a shade nervous as she continued. “If this is supposed to be the place we get to live out our romantic-comedy fantasies…”
Andie gasped. “I know what you’re going to do!”
“You do?” Julia asked. She turned to Kat, confused. “She does?”
“I do,” Andie said, grabbing Kat by the arms. “Dirty Dancing. The lift. Am I right?”
Kat’s smile was almost shy. “I’ve always wanted to perform that dance for an audience.”
“Do you think you can pull it off in two days?” Julia wondered. “Less than two days, really.”
“She knows the whole routine by heart,” Andie assured her. “What I want to know is if you think your boy Zach has the arm strength to do it?”
“You managed just fine,” Kat reminded Andie.
“Wait, what?” Julia asked.
“We spent a summer obsessed with learning how to do that dance,” Kat explained.
“I was Patrick Swayze,” Andie clarified. “And I only dropped her once,” she added proudly.
“Wow,” Julia murmured. “That is quite the mental image.”
“It would have blown you away,” Andie assured her.
“We’ve got our plans figured out,” Kat said, redirecting the conversation. “Which leaves you. What will you do for the talent show?”
“Is ‘Be a good audience member’ an option?” Julia wondered. Her friends’ unamused stares were answer enough. “Fine,” she yielded. “I’ll talk to Luke. Maybe he’ll have some hidden talent up his sleeve.”