“That’s what you told me before,” Hailey glared. “I had two wonderful weeks with
Gage.”
“You still don’t know his last name, do you?”
She shrugged. “I think it’s Warren, but I don’t really care. I know everything else
about him. He likes the color red, blondes and boobs. He hates veal, likes coffee without
milk or sugar, and is so damned cute when he’s scraping noodles off the ceiling.”
“Off the ceiling?”
“I’ll be the cook in our relationship, for sure.” Just saying the R-word made her heart
leap. “I think I love him, Sydney,” she said quietly.
“I think you do too. And I know he feels the same.” Sydney stared at her over her
glass. “You know Derrick, his brother, finally called me.”
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Marie Harte
“Oh?”
“I haven’t met him yet, but we’ve chatted a few times. I have to tell you, he’s
concerned about Gage.”
“Why?”
“Glad you asked.” Sydney leaned closer. “Because for the past six-plus months,
Gage has been obsessed with a certain blonde—that’s you—living in the Abberwicks. He
nearly had a coronary when you moved, and when he manipulated you into your first
date, he was beside himself with glee. Derrick said, and I quote, ‘It’s damned
embarrassing to see a man make such a fool of himself over a woman he’s never even
met’.”
“And this is the guy you’re considering dating?”
Sydney shrugged. “He’s got a great phone voice. Makes you think of sex, wicked
and dark. And he’s an architect to boot.”
“Whatever.” Hailey rolled her eyes. “Gage makes his own furniture, did you know
that? And it’s beautiful.”
“Mm-hmm. So tell me again what he does for a living.”
“He’s a construction worker,” she said defensively.
