“How come some of them are so buttoned up and others are so…” Their eyes widened, probably from fawning over a busty woman. “Nice!”

“What the hell is that dude wearing?”

Laughing ensued.

Curious, I leaned over the bar. “It’s a traditional men’s costume. Lederhosen.”

“Lederhosen? Loser-hosen is more like it.” The two snort-laughed.

I pretended to join their mirth even though my eyes were desperate to roll to the ceiling. “Doesn’t it look fun?”

The two continued to scroll, point, and laugh.

“Guys?”

They raised their heads. “Huh?”

“What do you say?”

They stared at me with glazed expressions.

“You in?”

They locked eyes in a private silent conversation, turned back to me, and at the same time said, “Nah.”

Pounding my fist against the bar, I said, “Your loss,” before plucking my phone from their hands and giving them my back. They were still laughing about loser-hosen and tits, and planning a road trip to Poughkeepsie when I reached the exit. I should have given up while I was behind. But I couldn’t. Not yet. There was too much riding on this. Next stop: Pinkie’s.

*    *    *

“The diner in my grandparents’ town held a contest where the people had to come up with a new menu idea, like a grilled brie-and-honey sandwich or avocado toast with Cajun corn and tomatoes. The winner had the dish named after them.” I beamed at Doreen. “It totally revived the place.” To my knowledge, no such contest was ever held at the Sunshine Diner in Boca Raton, but she wouldn’t take me seriously if she knew the idea came from a made-for-television movie.

“Evita. Is that your name?”

I bit my lip. “Close. It’s Adina.”

“I’m just the waitress here. For any contests or speed-dating, eighties nights, karaoke, or singles’ events you suggest, you’d need to speak with the owner, Judie. But she’s in Djibouti.”

“Judie’s in Djibouti? Ha!”

Doreen blinked. “Yes. She’s on a snorkeling adventure.”

“Do you know when Judie will be back from Djibouti?” I pressed a fist to my lips to keep from laughing in Doreen’s stoic face again. Apparently only one of us saw the humor.

“Not for another three weeks. Sorry.” She hustled to the other side of the counter before I could say anything further. But it didn’t matter. I’d been dismissed.

With my head low, I made my way to the exit and, WHOOMP, right into Finn on his way in. I slowly backed away, but not before intentionally drawing in a deep inhale. Whatever detergent he used smelled like lavender, cedar, and deliciously clean man.

“Easy there.” He placed his hands on my shoulders to keep me steady. “What’s wrong?” He frowned. “Don’t tell me you’re still upset about the no-pie situation.”