everything for all of us. Take me out of the boiling pot.”
“But frogs belong in boiling pots,” said Squint, clearly unbothered by his best friend’s dilemma. “I can’t tip my hand. I’ll just wait, as I’ve said, until she’s done chasing after what she doesn’t want. Women do that, you know. It’s all part of the dance.” He relaxed into the sofa cushions, a look of contentment on his face. “I do wish you wouldn’t get my girl all stirred up, though. Makes me sad to see her unhappy.”
Cisco scoffed. “Let’s get on with the planning of this escapade. It’s time for teamwork.”
“What escapade?” Sam asked.
“Like last time, when we all swam the race together to achieve a unified goal. Teamwork. That’s what we’re good at.”
His good buddies looked blank as new sheets of paper.
“No plan here,” Sam said. “I’ve even changed my mind about participating in the race. No reason to since Daisy’s going to win. So, just call me No Plan Sam.”
“I’ve got nothing,” Squint agreed.
Suz blew in on a gust of cold air, warming Cisco. She looked fresh and invigorated from their lesson: hair dry and spiky, foxy smile on her face, roses in her cheeks to match the pink scarf around her neck. He was definitely warm for this woman, in all the right places.
“I brought pumpkin chocolate chip muffins,” Suz said, and the men cheered.
“Just the thing to go with whiskey.” Ever the dog, Sam hopped up to help himself first to what Cisco considered his spoils.
“My work, my prize,” Cisco said, snatching the cute basket with the blue-and-white patterned napkin away from Sam. “Sit down and stay a second,” he said to Suz, guiding her to a seat far away from Sam and Squint.
“Yes, do.” Sam gazed at Suz, waiting his turn at the basket, which Cisco now passed around grudgingly. “We’ve been hearing about your lesson this morning.”
Suz glanced with some annoyance at Cisco, which he felt was ill-deserved. “That should be a private topic.”
“Yeah, well,” Squint said, pawing the basket with his big hand. “Daisy came by to throw a hissy about Cisco cheating. She’s filing a complaint, or squawking to someone.”
Suz frowned. “Let her complain. We did nothing wrong.”
Cisco perked at the sound of “we” on Suz’s sweet lips, very much liking the “we’re in this together” medley. “Besides which, I have a plan to completely neutralize our town tattletale.”
“Watch it,” Squint reminded him, “again, that’s my girl we’re talking about.”
“Precisely. And I have a thunderbolt of inspiration about your girl,” Cisco said. “Squint, Mr. Leg Cramp Extraordinaire, is going to take my place on Saturday.”
The room went dead silent as everyone stared at him.
“To what end?” Squint demanded.
“If Daisy needs to win someone, then it should be you. That will undo the curse—”
“Charm!” everyone reminded him.
“And Squint will then be the object of this matchmaker-created charm.”
“How do you know that’s how we got the charm?” Suz asked. “It’s top secret. Only a few people know.”
Cisco looked at Suz. “What’s top secret?”
“Never mind,” Suz said. “Continue with your idea.”
“His explosion of brain cells is top secret,” Sam said.
“His deviation from the norm,” Squint said. “I don’t like how you’re trying to cheat my lady out of her win.” He wagged a finger at Cisco. “I know when you’re trying to think up an outside-the-box strategy, watched you do it many times in Afghanistan. And this feels like that.”
“It always worked, didn’t it?” His friends nodded. Cisco took great pride in his ability to strategize when things look bleak—and right now, they were bleak. “Daisy will win Squint, because he, not I, will be at the finish line. The charm will ricochet on to Squint, and he will get the woman of his dreams, and I’ll be free. Happy ending for all,” he said cheerily, settling back with a pumpkin chocolate chip muffin clutched in one hand and his whiskey in the other. “Let the applause begin.”
Suz hopped to her feet, not applauding. “You don’t think I can win.”
Cisco hesitated. “Now, I didn’t say that—”
“Yeah, you did,” Sam said. “Pretty much you did.”
“It’s implied,” Squint said, “and it’s a bit sad, if you ask me.”
He wasn’t about to bring up Suz’s lack of swimming prowess, but wasn’t it obvious he was trying to save her from embarrassment? And holy hell, he didn’t want anywhere near this top-secret whatchamagig charm thing, just in case it did work. He was not winding up at an altar with Daisy Donovan, thus losing the woman of his dreams, and taking Squint’s, which would mean losing a good buddy.
This called for clear digestion of cold, hard facts. “Suz, beautiful, you really don’t swim. It’s more of a dog paddle that goes sort of circular. It keeps you from drowning, but that’s its main utilitarian function.”
His buddies drew in sharp breaths, gave him the no-no-no slashing signs to signal him to silence himself before it was too late.
It was too late.
Suz went to the door. “Fine. We’ll do it your way. Squint, be at the finish line. Be sure you have a warm blanket waiting for me, and get your pucker ready.”
She went out as cold gushed in the door, slamming it behind her.
“Smooth,” Sam observed.
“Oh, boy,” Squint said, “you’ve stepped in a big ol’ pile of steamy trouble you are never getting off your boot.”
Cisco ate his muffin in silence, dreading Saturday even more, now that his sweet ’n’ petite dollface had mentioned puckering to Squint. She’d talked about a pucker once to him, saying kissing him would force her to pucker like she’d bit into a grapefruit.
But she hadn’t said that to Squint. In fact, she’d sounded like the pucker she had waiting for him was going to be served up with a smile.
In the end, Suz won the race handily, due to Daisy coming up with a leg cramp in the last fifty yards—a Squint-styled leg cramp, Cisco presumed, realizing now that the fix had been in, thanks to his dumb bright idea. With a couple hundred people posted along the banks of Bridesmaids Creek with hot cocoa, pompons and enthusiastic yells for both wet-suit-wearing women, Daisy must have calculated enough effort to
