Page 3 of Sugar & Shadows

Jaw clenched, I flexed my fingers and inhaled deeply. “Do you seriously not know who I am?”

He studied me, squinting, like he was trying to place me. Probably running through a mental Rolodex of people he’d met at conferences or a town festival years ago.

Of course he didn’t recognize me. I’d been nothing more than a rival, and that was a long time ago. To him, I’d never been anyone worth taking seriously. He’d been my enemy, but I’d just been the weird poor girl with bad teeth and great test scores.

Every cell in my body was screaming, urging me to run out the door and not look back. This person was not worth my time.

But my ego wouldn’t allow it. Not until I made sure he knew who he’d just encountered. Because if he didn’t know who I was, he hadn’t yet realized that this blind date was about to become a blood sport.

“I’m Sabrina Monroe,” I said, ignoring the attention we were attracting from the patrons around us.

His eyes widened as he cataloged me from my stilettos to the crown of my artfully blown-out hair.

I lifted my chin. That’s it. Take it in.

“This has to be a joke,” he finally said, slumping into his chair.

A server appeared, the big smile plastered on his face falling as he caught sight of our expressions.

“Sit,” Gabe said, gesturing to the other chair.

I stared at it and then him. “No.”

“I’ll just leave these here.” The young man dropped two menus onto the table and pretended to be preoccupied by other tables.

“People are staring,” he grumbled. “Sit down.”

I turned around. Sure enough, every set of eyes in the place was fixed on us. No stranger to an audience, I tossed my hair over my shoulder and slowly unbuttoned my coat. Then I gently draped it over the back of my chair and sat.

He hung his head, and when he looked up again, he continued to stare at me open mouthed. “I thought you lived in DC.”

“Visiting,” I replied.

“I thought you were too good to come back to Vermont.”

“I’m benevolent.” I fiddled with the menu. My mother would never hear the end of this.

Sure, I’d been far from the perfect daughter, but this was just plain devious.

That was as far as we’d gotten when the server returned.

“We’re so thrilled to have you tonight,” he said. “Laurie Monroe called ahead and prepaid for your dinner. Can I get a drink order?”

My mother. Of course she’d called ahead. I was absolutely putting her in a home.

Gabe, always a people-pleaser, turned on a megawatt mayor smile. The look made me want to stab him under the table with the heel of my stiletto.

“Thanks, Matt. I’ll have the Birch IPA.” He turned to me with that same fake-ass smile. “It’s new this season. I highly recommend it. Do you want one?”

The urge to gag was difficult to fight, but I managed. “No. IPA tastes like lawn clippings and pretension.” I hesitated for a moment. Since my mom was in recovery, I never drank when I visited her, but if any situation warranted alcohol, it was this one. “Whiskey,” I said to the server. “Neat. Do you have Redbreast?”

He shook his head. “Bushmills?”

“Sure.” Crossing my legs, I settled.

“The beer is great,” Gabe said awkwardly. “My brother co-owns this place.”

“Which one?” I folded my arms. If memory served, there were several smiling Hardings running around this town.