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“It was part of the joke, doll.” He stares at me like I’m a little bit slow and then just shakes his head. “But I’ll let it pass for someone as cute as you. That dress is stunning, by the way. When we go on our first official date, I want you to wear that exact dress, unless you have other ideas.”

“Other ideas?” I raise an eyebrow at him.

“You know, like being naked. I don’t mind your birthday suit either.”

“I’ve got a piece of advice for you, Pete.” Fire burns in my throat. I can’t not say something to this douchebag.

“Oh, and what’s that?”

There’s a self-satisfied look on his face, like he thinks I’m about to say, Let’s get out of here right now. Delusional fool.

“Maybe don’t come on so eager and so desperate. It’s not a good look.”

“What does that mean?”

“I think you know exactly what it means. I’m not impressed by your words. In fact, I am very grossed out.”

“Look, Eve …”

“My name’s not Eve … and I think you⁠—”

“Should have known it was going to be a bunch of uptight bitches in Santa Capinari.”

He pulls out his phone, and I watch as he opens a dating app and starts swiping.

“That’s rude,” I mutter under my breath, but he ignores me.

I wait for the bell to ding, and I clap loudly as he walks away and mutters, “Bitch,” under his breath.

“Watch out for snakes, slimy Adam,” I hiss after him and giggle at my joke.

The next man comes to my table with a head of gray hair, and I don’t even bother to plaster a smile on my face. I don’t have high hopes for this date either.

“Hi.” He offers me a warm smile, and I just nod. “The name’s John. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you. I’m Rosie,” I say, offering him my hand.

“Pretty. I haven’t heard that name in a long time.”

I don’t ask him what he means by that. I’m almost positive that I can guess because while John definitely looks friendly, he definitely looks like he’s at least fifteen or twenty years over the age limit for the event, which was meant to be for singles, 21-40.

“Are you having fun here tonight, Rosie?”

“You’re my second date, so we’ll see how it goes. What about you?”

“Yeah, it’s good so far. A lot of pretty women. Mighty fine night, if I say so. Hopefully, I get a few matches.”

“May I ask how old you are, John?”

“See if you can guess.” He grins and rubs his chin in what I assume he thinks is a sexy move, but actually reminds me of a creepy old man.

“Sixty-five?”

“Ouch,” he says, laughing.

“Oh, sorry. Are you just sixty?”

“I’m fifty-two. I guess the years haven’t been kind to me, huh?”