“You smell great,” Paulie said.

“That would be a perfect thing to tell him.”

“No, I meant you. You smell really nice.”

Colleen paused. “Thanks. Now take a deep breath.” She looked down at Paulie’s kind, flushed face. “This is just the shark-bump test. Just to bring you onto his radar.”

“Got it. Shark. Radar.” She was hyperventilating.

“Breathe in for four, hold for four, exhale for four, that’s a girl. I know Bryce’s usual type, and guess what? They’re not right for him, are they, or else he’d be married right now. Just imagine that he’s been waiting for you all his life.”

“No need to sell it that hard, Coll.”

“It’s called confidence.” She squeezed Paulie’s hard shoulders. “I’ll be right behind the bar.”

“What if I screw up? What if he laughs at me? What if I puke and—”

“Calm down. Remember, you’re smart, you’re an executive at a successful company, you have what, an MBA? Everyone likes you, Paulie. Bryce just needs a little...strategy, and he’ll see you for the amazing person you are. And if you really love him, he’s worth the effort, right?”

“Yeah. He is.” Paulie stood up a little straighter.

“So let’s go. I hate to be cliché, but I want you drinking a martini or a mojito. No more Genesee.”

“Feminine, fabulous, martini, mojito.”

“Perfect. And next time, wear a girly color. Not gray.”

“It’s fog.”

“It’s gray, Paulie. You came to me, remember? I’m the expert. So no Thneed next time.”

Paulie cracked her neck. “What if—just putting this out there—what if I panic?”

“Um...I’ll give you a sign.”

“Really? That would be so great, Colleen!”

“I’ll do this. See?” She tossed her hair back in the time-honored fertility gesture women used to get men to notice how shiny they were. “Hair flip equals abort, abort. You pretend your phone is ringing and you just step away. Okay?”

“Roger that.”

Colleen took the shorter woman by the shoulders. “You’re special, and he’d be lucky to have you.”

Paulie smiled, even if her breathing was labored. She really did have a sweet smile. “Okay. Thanks, Coll. If you say so.”

“I do. Now get out there and make me proud. Don’t forget your lines.”

“Hi, Bryce, you smell so hot.”

“No, no, we don’t want him to think he smells like meat on a grill. It’s, ‘Hi, Bryce! Don’t you look handsome tonight.’”

“Hi, Bryce, don’t you look so beautiful tonight.”

“Handsome.” Colleen smiled firmly.

“And handsome, too.”

“You look handsome tonight, Bryce.”

“So do you.”

“Close enough. Go get ’em,” Colleen said. “I’ll be eavesdropping.”

She held the door for Paulie and went behind the bar, pulled a Guinness for Gerard, automatically smiled at his compliment because he was a schmoozer of the first class, and watched her protégé.

There weren’t too many people here; it was a Tuesday in late May, and the summer season hadn’t really begun yet, so she had a great view.

She really hoped this went well. She owed Paulie a little happiness.

When they were in sixth grade, something happened to Paulie. Her hair turned greasy, her face broke out and she thickened without growing in height. Not a big deal. After all, Faith had epilepsy, Jessica Dunn wore hand-me-downs, Asswipe Jones’s dandruff could’ve been covered by The Weather Channel. Paulie’s awkwardness wasn’t that big a deal.

But then came The Smell. A not-very-good smell that wafted from Paulie. The other kids noticed it but didn’t say anything. Not at first. But then whispers started, and Paulie seemed completely unaware, smiling, blushing, always being so damn nice.

One day, several of Colleen’s crowd decided to talk to their English teacher about it. Mrs. Hess was young, pretty and nice and had a Southern accent, which they all found terribly exotic. Sure enough, the teacher listened sympathetically.

“I hear what y’all are sayin’,” she said. “And here’s what I think should be done. It’d be a genuine favor if one of y’all took Miss Paulie aside and just told her the truth. Otherwise, how’s she gonna know, bless her heart?”

Colleen was immediately elected as the bearer of bad news. If anyone could say it, it was Colleen. Personally, Coll thought Faith would be even better at it, but no, the other girls said Colleen was good at that sort of thing. And so, the next day, Mrs. Hess asked Paulie to stay in at recess, and then said, “Colleen here has something she’d like to discuss with you, Paulie,” she said with a smile, then slipped from the room.

“What’s up?” Paulie asked. There was a hopeful look in her eyes, and Colleen felt her heart spasm a little. She’d been sick with nervousness all day long as it was, and the greasy cafeteria pizza at lunch hadn’t helped.

Colleen was popular; not mean-girl popular, just really well liked. She had the glamour of being a twin, not to mention her prettiness and ease with boys. Paulie had none of those things (except that everyone thought she was nice). But already, before she said a word, Colleen knew this wasn’t going to go well.

“So,” she said, sitting next to Paulie, who was clad in rust-colored corduroys and bedazzled sweatshirt. Damn. Faith would’ve been perfect for this job...Faith the sweet, the kind, the slightly tragic, would’ve had just the right touch. “Okay, well, here’s the thing, Paulie.”

“Yeah?”

Colleen’s stomach didn’t feel so good. She could almost taste the bitter smell. Didn’t Paulie’s mother talk to her about stuff? She cleared her throat. “Some of us were talking,” she said, biting her thumbnail. “And...uh, it was about things that, um, happen to some people when you’re a teenager and stuff.”

Paulie frowned. “Oh.”

Colleen’s stomach lurched. “It’s nothing bad, Paulie. You’re really nice and smart and stuff. But, um...well...there’s a certain...smell? There’s a funky smell around you.” She winced. “I’m sorry.”

Paulie looked at Colleen a horrible, long minute, then bowed her head. “I don’t smell,” she whispered.

Colleen swallowed. There was that taste again. Why had the other girls elected her? Why hadn’t Mrs. Hess said something instead, or had Paulie see the nurse, who could talk about hormones and whatever? “I’m sorry,” she said again. “But you do. It’s hard to sit next to you sometimes.”

“Who was talking about this?” she whispered, and a single tear slid down her face and landed on the molded plastic desktop.

“Just...a few of us. I—we thought you should know.”

“I don’t smell!” Paulie yelled, then pushed back from the desk and ran out of the room.

And Colleen threw up. Not because of the smell...because of shame. Shame and greasy pizza. But the rumor flashed—Paulie smelled so bad that she made Colleen puke.

Paulie didn’t come back to school for the rest of the week, and Colleen had never felt so small. She told only Connor about the conversation, and when he said, “Oh, Coll,” she knew for sure she’d done something terrible.

Later that month, they learned that Paulie had bigger problems. Her mother had run off with another man, and Paulie would be living with her dad from now on. When she returned to school, she had a new haircut. Her clothes were better, and the smell was still there, but it was fainter. Eventually, it went away altogether.

A thousand times, Colleen wanted to apologize; a thousand times, she convinced herself that it was kinder not to bring it up. In tenth grade, they were assigned to the same group for a social studies project, and Paulie couldn’t have been nicer.

So if Colleen wanted to help Paulie with her love life, who could blame her?

Paulie stood in the vicinity of Bryce’s usual spot at the bar. Gerard said hi to her, but Paulie didn’t answer, just stared at Colleen as if she was facing a firing squad.

“How about a mojito, Paulie?” she said cheerfully, tossing some mint into a glass.

“Sure,” Paulie mumbled, rubbing her hands on her sweater.

And then in came Bryce Campbell, all easy male grace, tall and lanky, dressed in a white polo shirt and jeans. He waved and made his way to his usual place at the horseshoe-style bar. A strangled noise came from Paulie.

Colleen handed her the drink. “Hey, Bryce, don’t you look handsome tonight,” she whispered.

“Coll, you could whisper to me?” Gerard said. “I can think of a whole bunch of things I’d like you to say.”

“Shush, child, I’m talking to my friend,” she answered. She gave Paulie a firm smile. “Now’s good.”

“I’m not ready,” Paulie whispered.

“Yes, you are.”

“No, I can’t. Can you do it for me?”

“Like we’re in third grade, and you want me to tell him you like him?”

“Yes. Please.”

“No. Come on now. Handsome, shark, boobs, smile. And then you’re done. Now go.”

With a faint groan, Paulie inched toward Bryce, who was at the end of the bar, talking to Jessica Dunn. Hmm. Jess was way too pretty, all blonde and super-modelesque, Bryce’s usual type.

Paulie stopped just behind him and shot Colleen a terrified glance and appeared to freeze. Luckily, Hannah was behind the bar, too, so Colleen boob-skimmed her.

“Get your boobs off me. Sexual harassment and all that,” Hannah said.

“Shh.” She smiled firmly at Paulie, who took a deep breath, swung her shoulders and bodychecked him right off his stool, Jessica Dunn stepping neatly aside as Bryce sprawled on the floor. Colleen’s view was all too clear. “Goddamn it!” Paulie said. She reached down to help him up, tripped on the dangling end of the Thneed, stepped on Bryce’s hand and spilled her mojito right onto his head. “Shit! Shit!”

So much for soft and feminine. Colleen tossed her hair for the “abort” sign. Paulie didn’t notice, Gerard was wheezing with laughter, one of those guys who loved nothing more than the physical pain of others (he was a paramedic, after all). Now Paulie was hauling Bryce to his feet, but she was too strong, and she yanked him not only up, but slammed him into the bar, causing the hanging glasses to rattle and sway.

Colleen tossed her hair again. Coughed. Coughed again more loudly. Tossed. Coughed. Tossed. Cough ’n’ tossed.

“Wow, Paulie, easy does it, okay?” Bryce said, rubbing his arm at the shoulder. Paulie’s face was broiling-red. She took both ends of the Thneed and twisted them in anguish.

Another hair toss, this one so hard Colleen thought she might’ve dislocated her neck, and still Paulie didn’t see her. Colleen threw up her hands

“What are you doing?” said a low voice behind her.

Colleen’s heart froze, as though she’d swallowed a large ice cube, and it was stuck right over her heart.

She turned around.

Yep. Lucas Campbell.

None other. Standing approximately two feet from her, looking at her with those knowing, dark eyes.

Her skin suddenly felt tight. Mouth: dry. Brain: dead.

“What are you doing, Colleen?” Lucas asked again.

“Nothing,” she said as if it hadn’t been ten years since she’d last seen him. “What are you doing?”

“I’m here to see my cousin.”

“So go see your cousin.”

“What are you doing to my cousin?”

“I’m not doing anything to your cousin.” So mature. And did they have nothing else to say to each other? Ten years apart? A river of tears (hers) and blood (his...well, she wished it was his blood).

Lucas just looked at her, his pirate eyes unreadable.

Shit.

Of all the gin joints in all the world, she started thinking, then squelched a blossom of slightly hysterical laughter.

Lucas Damien Campbell was here. Here in her bar. You think he could’ve called? Would that have been so much to ask, huh? Hmm? Would it? Hey, Colleen, I’m coming to visit my cousin, so be prepared, okay?

Colleen took a ragged breath, then coughed to cover. Unfortunately, the cough became genuine, and tears came to her eyes as she hacked and choked.

“You okay?” he asked in that ridiculously sexy, river-of-dark-chocolate voice.

“Yes,” she wheezed, wiping her eyes. “Just great.”

“Good.”

He dragged his eyes off of hers and looked over at the little knot of people at the end of the bar; Jess was laughing, Bryce smiling and Paulie looked like she was praying for a swift death.

“Are you trying to fix Bryce up with Paulina Petrosinsky?” he asked. Damn. She’d forgotten how...observant he was.

“No,” she said, proud of getting that one word out.

“Yes, you are.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Yes. You are.” He raised an eyebrow, and her knees wobbled. Sphincter! He was here. Here and beautiful, and damn it, older. A decade older than the last time she’d seen him, and yet it seemed like yesterday when he’d walked with her down to the lake and broke her heart. Irreparably, the bastard.

Her breath wanted to rush out of her lungs, but she held it in carefully, not wanting to induce another sexy choking fit.

She’d forgotten how he looked, like a pirate, like Heathcliff of the moors, dark and slightly dangerous...except for his eyes, which could be so sad. And so happy, too.