“Here,” Big Bob said, pushing his cell phone at me. “Take her number. Call her.”
“No, that’s okay,” I said. I held up my hand. “I don’t need her number.”
David learns how far he needs to go to break a love triangle.
Rachel, sitting at my kitchen counter and clutching her Old Fashioned, looked at Big Bob and then at me and said nothing. That’s a Scorpio for you: quiet, observing, inscrutable. A recipe for incitement, in other words.
“Come on! Take her number,” insisted Big Bob. He was referring to the age-appropriate Nancy with whom my past interactions did not lack some sparks. But Big Bob’s hope wasn’t to see me romantically fulfilled. No, he just wanted to get me away from the buxom Rachel. Rachel.