“Why is that?”

Rocco grinned and ruffled the top of Owen’s head. “He’s looking for you to fill his jar full of dollar bills.”

Sam snickered; the kid had cleaned him out more than once.

“Only have to pay if you use bad words,” Owen clarified. “You need to come because Mom’s been cooking all morning and she’s got a special friend coming.”

Now they were getting somewhere. Slowly straightening, Sam glared at Rocco, who avoided eye contact. “A special friend?” he repeated. “Of Nichole’s?”

Rocco frowned down at his stepson as if to scold the boy.

So this was a booby trap. “How special?” Sam said again, focusing his gaze on his best friend. Sounded like there was a price to be paid for said dinner.

“Another teacher,” Rocco said with a shrug as if this was a small thing. They both knew it wasn’t.

“Male or female?” Although he already knew the answer.

Rocco thrust his hands into his back pockets and cleared his throat as if something had got caught in his windpipe. “Female.”

“And exactly when were you going to mention the invitation also included this special friend of Nichole’s?”

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Rocco walked round to the other side of Sam’s truck. “I was getting around to that.”

“Sure you were,” Sam muttered. “You know I don’t do blind dates.” Or relationships. Better than anyone, Rocco knew Sam’s history with women, all of which was negative.

“I know …”

“She’s not blind, Uncle Sam,” Owen inserted before Rocco had a chance to speak. “It’s like a date and Mom said she’s perfect for you.”

“Right.” His gaze didn’t leave Rocco’s. This sneaky invite wasn’t like Rocco. “What’s the deal?” he asked, continuing to wipe his already clean hands.

Rocco continued to look ill-at-ease. “Nichole’s got her heart set on this. She really likes this teacher.”

“You’ve met her?”

“Once, briefly.”

“Her name is Beth,” Owen rushed to add.

Sam waited for Rocco to enlighten him. “And?” he prompted when his friend remained suspiciously quiet.

“Beth came to the house shortly after she met Nichole. I was there, but for the life of me I don’t remember much about her.”

Apparently, she wasn’t memorable. He didn’t know Rocco to lie, but Sam wasn’t convinced his friend was telling him the full truth.

“I remember her,” Owen popped up excitedly. “She’s nice; she’s not ugly or anything.”

That was an underwhelming endorsement. Bending over, Sam went back to working on the engine of the classic 1967 Dodge R/T. “Like I said, I don’t do blind dates.”

“Sam,” Rocco said and groaned.

“You gotta come,” Owen insisted. “Mom’s making homemade chicken cordon bleu, and she baked her special applesauce cake.”

“No thanks.”

“She’s even using the china we got from Grandma.”

Sam still wasn’t convinced. “Knowing Nichole, she’s got a backup plan. She can invite the next unsuspecting guy on her list.”

“Nope.” Again it was Owen who spoke. “She said you’re the one.”

“He’s telling you the truth,” Rocco said.

Sam groaned and slumped his shoulders. It was just his luck that Nichole would pick on him. “Why me?”

“Beth is the music teacher at the high school.”

“What kind of music?”

“Classical stuff: Mozart and Bach and a whole bunch of those old guys. You play the guitar, she plays the piano. You have a lot in common.”

“Like I listen to Mozart,” Sam muttered, shaking his head. He didn’t need to meet this teacher friend of Nichole’s to guess they were about as ill-suited as any two people were likely to get.

“She likes other kinds of music too,” Owen said. “She knows Uncle Kracker and Bruno Mars.”

Owen was doing the talking. Seeing how silent Rocco remained made him all the more suspicious.

“She ever listen to the Oak Ridge Boys? What about George Strait, David Allan Coe or Carrie Underwood?”

Owen frowned. “I don’t know, but you can ask her.”

Sam didn’t plan on it, seeing that he had no intention of showing up for this dinner. He glanced at Rocco. “You’re not saying much.”

“This wasn’t my idea.”

Thankfully, Rocco understood where he was coming from.

“Thank God for that.”

“Did he use God’s name as a swear word?” Owen asked Rocco.

“No.” Both Rocco and Sam chimed in together.

“You coming or not?” Rocco pressed.

“Not.” No good would come of this blind date.

Even with his head bent over the truck engine, Sam saw Owen’s face fall. “Mom’s not going to be happy.”

Sam managed to suppress a smile. He straightened and eyed his friend. “I want to know how Nichole managed to rope you into this?” Rocco was the one person who knew him best. He was well aware of the way Sam felt about friends setting him up.

“I love my wife,” Rocco said, exhaling slowly. “You have to know this wasn’t my idea, but Nichole has her heart set on you meeting Beth. The hell if I can refuse her.”

Owen grabbed the sleeve of Rocco’s shirt and jerked it. “Hell’s a swear word.”

“I am not paying you a dollar for hell,” Rocco muttered.

“You said it again. That’s two dollars.”

Rocco groaned. “It’s in the Bible, and any word in the Bible can’t be considered a swear word.” Glaring at Sam, he said, “See what you’ve done? You’re the one who started this.”

“And I’ve paid through the nose.”

“You can use other words instead of bad ones,” Owen helpfully supplied.

“True, but do you know the looks I get when I swear, saying mother-forklift?”

Rocco burst out laughing.

“You think it’s funny, do you?” he asked, but he smiled himself. These days he’d gotten inventive when it came to swearing. He had Owen and that glass jar of his to thank. The jar now stuffed full of his dollar bills. And actually, Sam didn’t mind. He’d gotten into the habit of letting swear words fly without thinking. It’d taken Owen calling him to task for him to notice.

“Please come,” Owen pleaded.

“It’s important to Nichole,” Rocco added. “You know I wouldn’t ask you otherwise.”

Sam angled his head toward the sky. He didn’t like this. Not one bit. “You owe me for this.”

“I’ll make it up to you,” Rocco promised.

Rocco would make it up to him. Sam would make damn sure he did.

Oh damn … he wondered if he owed Owen a dollar if he swore in his thoughts.

After Rocco and Owen left, Sam immediately regretted agreeing to this blind date. He wouldn’t do it for anyone other than Nichole. But when the time came he showered and combed his shoulder-length hair back and tied it at the base of his neck. He hated getting his hair cut just about as much as he hated shaving, which is why he wore a beard. Examining his reflection, he noticed his beard had gotten a bit scraggly looking. He reached for a pair of scissors and he trimmed it back. Sam sincerely hoped Nichole appreciated all the trouble he was going through for this dinner idea of hers.

Shuffling through his closet, he chose a shirt with a button-down collar and put on a clean pair of black jeans. This was about as fancy as he got. If this teacher was looking for some suave dresser, then she was out of luck.

One thing Nichole did right was cook his favorite dinner. He was a sucker for her applesauce cake and he’d never tasted a better cordon bleu than what Nichole made. To be fair, hers was the only homemade cordon bleu he’d ever tasted, but he suspected few would compare. Being single, he frequently ate out and his meals usually consisted of something he was able to pick up at a drive-through on the way home from the car dealership. Either that or tavern food he got at The Dog House, where he often hung out. Not as much now that Rocco had married. Sam had other friends, but none as close to him as Rocco was.




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