Izzy Hart had hit the jackpot of awkward life moments. Three lemons lining up in a row. Click, click and…click.
She’d finally, after five years, worked up the courage to tell her best friend, Sam Sterling, how she really felt about him. He of the chiseled jawline of a Greek god, the abs of an infomercial model, the steel-blue eyes that made opposing counsel quake, and the quick wit that could make her laugh so hard she’d nearly pee her Victoria’s Secret thong. The butterflies inside her began doing flips and spins, hammering feathery wings against her ribs until she couldn’t take it anymore and blurted, over two triple-shot, extra hot, extra foam afternoon lattes in a crowded, noisy Starbucks, “I’m in love with you.”
Not the best timing, but then Izzy had never been known for her timing. She’d once jokingly reminded a forgetful client to call his mom on Mother’s Day, only to find out his mother had passed away the week before. She’d felt terrible.
At the same second she began to utter her declaration, Sam broke eye contact to look behind her and say, “Look at her, Iz.”
She stared at him. The butterflies perched, waiting.
“What?” she managed at last.
He gazed over her shoulder. “She doesn’t walk; she glides. The floor practically rises to worship her.”
She didn’t want to, she really didn’t want to, but she turned to see who he was looking at. Fear that he hadn’t heard what she’d said, or even worse, that he had heard what she’d said, raced up her spine.
“Are you serious?” she snapped. “She’s one step away from a broken ankle. She sticks that butt out any further, she’ll knock you sideways to Cincinnati.”
He glanced at her, questioning. “A little harsh.”
“No. It’s not.” She took a gulp of her latte, hoping to hide the warmth in her cheeks.
“Something bothering you?”
“Nothing to do with her.” The woman had now moved into Izzy’s line of sight at the counter.
“She’s beautiful,” Sam said.
She was a good five inches taller than Izzy, probably close to six feet, with straight shiny blonde hair and ethereal skin like Nicole Kidman’s. And giant boobs.
“Her name’s Erica,” Sam breathed. “Erica Vang.”
“Sounds like a serial killer.”
“She’s— What?” He turned away from the vision of loveliness.
“If she’s so perfect, why haven’t you asked her out?”
“Did. Says she doesn’t date men from her office.”
“That’s never stopped you before.”
The woman turned. Sam lifted his hand in hello. Erica smiled, one of those genuine smiles with happiness floating around all edges. Izzy hated all 72 inches of her.
“True,” Sam acknowledged. “But she’s different.” He sighed, actually sighed. “There’s something about her. She’s…fragile. Or gentle. Something.”
“Since when is that your type?”
“I’ve been thinking. I’m ready for…you know. A committed relationship. And she might be…” He tipped his head as if pondering enlightenment. “The one.”
“She is not the one. She’s not even one of the ones.”
Sam raised his index finger to scratch behind his right ear, something he always did when nervous. Izzy pounced.
“See what you’re doing?” She pointed. “You don’t even believe yourself.”
He lowered his hand, inch by slow inch. Then he turned away from the brilliant specimen of woman that was Erica Vang and back to Izzy. He put his arms on the table. “You said something. What was it? I got distracted.”
Ya think? Izzy took a deep breath, looked down at her empty paper cup then shook her head. “Nothing.” Tears hovered, threatening to give her away. “Stupid allergies.” She blinked furiously while reaching for a tissue and then, finding one, blew—or more accurately, honked—her nose. As if she weren’t already embarrassed enough.
“Come on, Iz. I’m sorry. Tell me.”
There was nothing like the feeling of Sam’s complete and undivided attention. Her insides melted and it felt like their souls reached out and bumped fists. Connecting. Understanding each other. He had to feel it, too.
“I might be ready for…you know, a committed relationship, myself.” There. She’d said it. Her shoulders sagged; her breath halted. Was he thinking, like she was, of their near-miss at the lake a few months ago? He’d backed off a millisecond before their lips touched, apologizing all over himself, saying he’d had too many beers. Izzy, embarrassed by how much she’d wanted that kiss, had stood up and left.
She bit down on her bottom lip. Around them, the espresso machines hummed beneath the surrounding conversation. She supposed it was too much to hope that Erica be blinded in a tragic steam accident and rushed away by ambulance.
That fast, she heard the voice of her mother in her head. Some nice person you are, Isabelle.
She hated it when her mother was right. What kind of awful person thinks of something horrible like that? Then Izzy thought of the way Sam had wrapped her in his arms at her mother’s funeral. Protective, strong, like he’d let nothing hurt her ever again.
He was saying something.
“What?” She shook away her mother’s voice.
“A cat, I said. You’re ready for a cat. That’s what you’re telling me.”
“No.” She shook her head, impatient. “I mean, I want to get one, but this isn’t the time.”
He nodded gravely. “You’re right. Don’t know that you could commit to a cat. He’d be needing to eat, and you’d get caught up in some big design project at work or take off for the weekend with your friends and forget all about him.”
So she worked a lot. So she was spontaneous. So she picked the world’s most awkward moment to tell a guy she loved him. And then he didn’t even hear her.
She reached over to punch his arm with her trembling hand. “I’m not talking about a cat.”
He sat back, looking doubtful. “Kyle? He’s your guy?”
“No.” Kyle was just one of several guys she’d dated over the last few years as placeholders. Never lasted more than three or four months, even when she’d tried her hardest to feel something close to what she felt when she was with Sam. “I broke up with Kyle last week.”
He reached his hand out to grab hers, holding it tight. Goosebumps rippled up her arms. “You didn’t tell me. You okay?”
“I’m fine.” She held her breath then went for it. “Hey, doesn’t this mean we’re both single at the same time? When’s the last time that happened? Maybe we should—”
A small hiccup of anxiety swallowed the last word. She made light of that by rolling her eyes toward the ceiling and saying, “I’ve got to quit drinking so much coffee.”
“Hi!”
Izzy lowered her gaze to see Erica Vang standing at their table, her sunny smile radiating ultraviolet rays. Erica brushed back her hair, looking like a cross between Pollyanna and Marilyn Monroe, and Izzy hated her all over again. Her own hair felt more pimento-colored by the second.
“Hey,” Sam answered, releasing Izzy’s hand to bask in the gliding woman’s fresh-faced warmth. He grabbed a chair from the next table, pulling it over. “Join us.”
“I don’t want to interrupt.”
A little late for that.
“Please.” Sam stood and moved the chair back to allow her to sit.
No one could resist Sam at his most chivalrous. Few women could resist Sam, period.
“Maybe just for a minute.”
“Izzy, Erica. Erica, Izzy.” Sam didn’t take his eyes off the blonde woman.
Erica turned. “Nice to meet you.”
Izzy mumbled a hello.
Sam slid a look at her, and then he and Erica shared a smile.
That was the moment, the exact moment, when Izzy’s frayed rubber band of patience snapped. A jab of pain shot through her heart that made her see nothing but red, and she reached inside her purse and unzipped the small pocket where she’d kept a vial of powder hidden for weeks, ever since she’d taken a trip to New Orleans with a couple of girlfriends and they decided to go to a voodoo shop. For fun. For a “love spell” powder.
Of course, she didn’t believe it really worked. Just like she didn’t believe it didn’t. And right now, she didn’t care. She was so mad at Sam for lusting over quantity—as in triple-D cup—over quality—as in Izzy’s perfectly respectable C cup—she couldn’t stop herself from curling her fingers around that vial and holding it tight.
It felt warm. It felt as though it held possibilities.
Erica Vang laughed with Sam and then got up, saying something about getting to work. Something Izzy couldn’t clearly hear because of the angry buzzing in her ears.
Sam watched Erica walk away. He turned back to Izzy. “Tell me what’s going on with you.”
Oh no, he didn’t. Izzy pointed in the direction Erica had gone. “Looks like she’s trying to say something to you.”
He didn’t take the bait. “Was he a jerk to you? Because if he was, I swear I’ll—”
“You can’t just ignore her!”
With a twist of his mouth at the change in subject, Sam turned to see. Izzy whipped the vial out of her purse, flipped off the lid and dumped the contents into his latte. He wouldn’t be able to taste it, the woman with the melodic voice had said. But once it was in him, he would fall hopelessly in love with the next woman he spoke with.
That woman would be Isabelle Imogene Hart, his best friend.
“I don’t see her,” he said.
“I must have been mistaken.” Her shoulder wobbled into a shrug. Oh God. He’s going to drink it. He’s going to drink it. He’s…drinking it.
“So you don’t want to talk about it. Fine. But I can’t believe you’re going to get a cat. Why don’t you time-share one first?” Head tipped back, Sam finished his latte.
“I am not getting a cat.” It’s a souvenir. It can’t possibly… But maybe, just maybe. Izzy’s heart began beating so fast she thought she might pass out.
“Got to get to work,” Sam said, as though nothing extraordinary had happened. As though he hadn’t just drunk a vial of love spell powder purchased from a woman dressed in all black who smelled of roses and wet dog. But this was it: the moment, the test of the $19.95 Izzy had plunked down in the form of her credit card.
She opened her mouth to say something love-provoking—
Erica Vang, with treacherously perfect timing, swooped in out of nowhere. “Sam.”
He turned, and a thunderstorm began to rage in Izzy’s head. “No-o-o-o,” she cried, rising from her seat.
“Erica.” Sam flashed the blonde one of his best smiles, ready to fall to his knees and ask for her hand in marriage right here, right now. At least it seemed that way to Izzy through the thunder and lightning crackling through her head.
Because she had, after all, paid $19.95 for the love of her life to fall for someone else.