The International Kissing Club (29 page)

“Thanks,” Tanner said.

When Germaine looked in her direction, Izzy felt obligated to say, “Sure. Thanks. That’s really …” Obnoxious? Transparent? Insecure? “… really great of you.”

“Where do you think I should spread out?” Germaine gazed around, a pout on her lips. She picked up the blanket, stalked a few steps toward the house, to a carpet of tiny bright green plants, and started to shake it out. “How about—”

“Not there!” Tanner yelled. “Those are seedlings.”

“Oh, sorry.” Germaine giggled again. “That was so stupid of me.”

“Yes, it was,” Izzy agreed dryly.

Germaine glared at her, but Izzy didn’t apologize. She had fewer than five hours’ farming experience, and even she recognized that anything planted in perfectly spaced rows should not be picnicked upon.

Germaine thrust the blanket toward Tanner. “Why don’t you pick a spot, sweetie? I’m going to go wash the farm off my hands before we eat.” Then she gave Izzy a scornful visual inspection. After a moment, Germaine smiled.

It wasn’t a friendly smile, but it wasn’t exactly belligerent, either.
It was the kind of look Barbie would give Skipper if she ever caught Skipper making moon eyes at Ken.

Still, there was something humbling about having Germaine, the most territorial girl in Paris, decide—after only one look—that Izzy was no threat.

As if Izzy needed the reminder that she was coated in dirt and sweat. Tilling land was messy work. Every time she’d slowed down to turn a corner, she’d been enveloped in a cloud of dust. Of course, Tanner had been on the tractor with her, but somehow, he made dust look good. It only enhanced his rugged, chiseled perfection. She was pretty sure that on her it just looked gross.

Germaine was—naturally—dust-free. Dirt wouldn’t dare settle on her.

As Germaine tottered off, she turned to say over her shoulder, “Izzy, do you want to start unpacking the basket once Tanner has the blanket laid out? I brought roast beef sandwiches, pasta salad with tomatoes, avocado, and bacon. And for dessert, prosciutto-wrapped melon slices.”

Izzy nearly laughed at Germaine’s overcompensation.

Tanner just looked sort of flabbergasted. Izzy suspected he’d never even heard of prosciutto. And once he knew it was just fancy bacon, he wasn’t going to want to eat it with fruit.

Once Germaine was out of earshot, Izzy asked him, “Does she come over often when you’re here for the weekend?”

Tanner shook his head, still looking baffled. “No. She’s only been here once.”

On one hand, it was hard to picture Germaine on the farm. On the other, there were lots of branches around where she could perch, black wings wrapped around her body while she searched for carrion to pick apart with her pointy beak.

Izzy propped her hands on her hips and turned to face him fully. “You know she’s a total skitch, right?”

Tanner frowned and looked like he might protest, so Izzy cut him
off. “Hey, if you were allowed to say River is a douche, then I’m allowed to remark on Germaine’s personality flaws, of which there are many.”

Tanner’s jaw tightened. “River
is
a douche.”

“Oh, like you know him so well.”

“Our parents sold stuff at the same farmers’ market for the past five years. So, yeah, I know him. And he was never interested in all that ‘green’ stuff until you started hanging around him. He used to make fun of his mom for it. Called her hippie-dippy behind her back.”

“Oh.” Izzy had
not
known that. “Now I’m kind of wishing you’d mentioned that nine months ago. Or, jeez, even two months ago would have made a huge difference.” Before she’d been stupid enough to sleep with him. That definitely would have been useful information. “Which just proves my point. If you don’t already know that Germaine is a skank, it’s my duty as a human to tell you. She may look like a mere high school cheerleader, but she’s really a turkey buzzard in a miniskirt and stilettos. Besides, I’m pretty sure she practices the dark arts.”

“Whoa,” Tanner said, as he stumbled back out of the blast range. “She’s really not
that
bad.”

Izzy cocked a disbelieving eyebrow. “Why are you with her, anyway?”

The guy she’d always thought Tanner was—the knuckle-dragging purveyor of violence—was the kind of guy who would date Germaine. But she was starting to wonder if she really knew him at all. And if she’d been wrong about Tanner all this time, then how was she supposed to reconcile his crappy taste in girlfriends?

Tanner sent her an odd look. “Why do
you
care who I date?”

She held up her palms in a gesture of benign innocence. “It’s purely a matter of scientific curiosity.”

He nodded, as if he could appreciate that. “I guess I date her for the same reason I play football. It’s what everyone expects me to do.”

“I don’t believe that,” Izzy said, almost under her breath.

His head jerked toward her so fast, she shifted back in surprise.
And suddenly he seemed to be standing much closer than he had been.

“Then who should I be with, Isabel?” he asked, looking her straight in the eye.

For a second her heart stuttered in her chest and she felt as if time had stopped. Then her brain caught up with her hormones and she blew out her exasperation in a chuckle, doing her best to laugh it off. “Holy crap. Piper’s right. You can really lay on the charm.”

He gave an exaggerated wink. “Hey, I do what I can.”

“So that’s it? That’s why you’re with
her
? Because the poor handsome quarterback doesn’t have any other options?”

“So you think I’m handsome?”

“Stop dodging the question.”

“What do you want me to say? Germaine wants to be with me. She makes it easy.”

“What? ’Cause your life is so hard?” Izzy asked.

He shrugged. “No harder than yours.”

She thought about that. He had a point: for both of them, life wasn’t as easy as it looked from the outside. But she didn’t like to think about being that transparent. Or about him being so observant. Suddenly, she yearned for the days when she thought Tanner was just another arrogant football player—one who didn’t seem to know her better than she knew herself.

There was something unexpected in his gaze that made her shift uncomfortably. Time to move the convo back to comfortable territory.

“I don’t think you do anything just because it’s what everyone expects. I’ve seen you play football. No one that good doesn’t love the sport.”

“So Isabel,” he drawled, “you’re a closet fan, after all?”

Of his or of Paris High School football?
Either was a question she wasn’t ready to answer.

“I’m my father’s daughter,” she said instead. “I was raised to spot
talent the way most kids are taught to watch for cars before crossing the street. So, yeah, I know you’re good. And I know you love to play football. So stop acting coy.”

It occurred to her then that he’d never really answered her question, the one about Germaine. Which undoubtedly meant,
She’s so hot that I don’t care how bad she is. Plus, she puts out.

“As for Germaine, do me a favor and make sure she knows that this”—Izzy waggled her pointer finger between them to indicate their relationship—“is just work.”

“But it’s not just work,” Tanner said.

And for an instant, Izzy’s breath caught in her chest. Okay, longer than an instant. Long enough for her to feel woozy.

Until Tanner added, “ ’Cause we’re friends, right?”

“Right,” she muttered breathlessly. How had she forgotten their close and enduring friendship? “Just make sure she knows that. I don’t want to end up dead from some unfortunate voodoo ritual.”

Tanner had the gall to laugh. “I doubt she’s even noticed you’re here.”

Now it was Izzy’s turn to laugh. Hers was more ironic than his. Germaine may have already dismissed her as being completely non-threatening, but Izzy still didn’t want to trust her fate to Germaine’s capricious benevolence. “So she normally makes you picnics?”

“No.”

“And puts meat in every dish?”

“What?”

“I’m a vegetarian,” Izzy pointed out. “Which she knows, because last year in English she and I were paired for the class debate. And the topic we picked was the beef industry’s impact on the environment.”

Izzy—obviously—had been antibeef. Germaine’s platform had been—literally—“No pot-smoking tree-hugger is going to tell me I can’t eat a hamburger.”

Chagrin flickered across Tanner’s face and he opened his mouth to speak, but Izzy interrupted him.

“Don’t tell me she’s not that bad. She put meat in a
dessert
. Trust me, anything that sneaky is girl-speak for ‘Keep your grubby tractor hands off my boyfriend.’ “ Tanner looked dubious, but Izzy held up her hands. “Just make sure she knows we’re only friends. Or even better, that I’m just another hired hand. Now, I’m going to leave you two to your romantic picnic, and I’m going to go home and eat my tofu scramble in peace. I’ll be back tomorrow for Tractor Driving 102.”

Before Izzy could escape to her car, Germaine returned, her smile bright and cheerful. “You’re not leaving, are you?”

Unless Germaine had had some sort of “bitchectomy” while washing her hands, her new friendliness could mean only one thing. She was completely convinced Izzy was not a threat. Which did wonders for Izzy’s self-confidence.

With that, she made for Brittney. Kicking up dust as she drove down the road, Izzy could see them in her rearview mirror.

Tanner standing beside the tractor with his hands tucked into his jeans pockets, his head cocked just slightly to the side. Germaine behind him, her arms wrapped around his body like clinging tentacles.

All in all, her first day working on an organic farm had sucked.

On the other hand, she finally understood what Piper saw in Tanner. Which sucked even more.

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Messages

Between
Piper
and
Cassidy
:

Piper

Cassidy, I need some advice. My art teacher still hates me.

Cassidy

Why am I being singled out for the academic failure questions?

Piper

I can’t ask Mei. She’d freak if she knew I was pulling an F. And things still seem weird with Izzy. Do you think she’s okay?

Cassidy

Can’t tell from her posts. But would you be okay, stuck in Texas?

Piper

That’s what I thought. Maybe I should send her some French chocolates. Or a French guy.

Cassidy

So what’s up with your art teacher?

Piper

He thinks I’m a hack.

Cassidy

Drop the class.

Piper

Thanks. Very helpful.

Cassidy

You’ve got talent. So he’s obviously a moron.

Piper

But he’s not. What if I only have talent in Paris, Texas—when I’m miserable? This glassblowing is kicking my ass.