“It does when you’re a horny teenager with a crush on Jenny Fielder. I followed her around forever. I heard things.” He made a face. “Super gross. But go, Grace.”
She laughed. “Well, I thought you might know. Didn’t think the old people did.”
“Yeah? Because the old man watches us like a hawk. And Mom’s got bat ears.”
“I heard that,” Leila called as she and their father walked through the living room to the bedroom, draped in towels.
“See?”
Grace shrugged. “Whatever. Now it’s all out it the open.” She watched the hallway where their parents had disappeared then leaned closer to him to whisper, “I might have experienced my own Sinclair Curse. But I’m not sure yet.”
“Oh boy. Hit you right between the eyes, then again in the heart?”
She rubbed her chest and scowled. “Yeah. But keep your pie-hole shut about it.”
“I see what you did there.” He pointed to his mouth. “Pie-hole. Ha.” At her glare, he hurriedly added, “I heard zip. Nada. Nothing.”
“Good.”
But he knew exactly what she was talking about.
His problem was in trying to prove to Marlie that he loved her, and she should really fall in love with him because they were meant to be.
But maybe he’d leave that to their second date. He didn’t want to scare her off, after all.
CHAPTER 11
Marlie thoroughly enjoyed her Thanksgiving. Her brothers had been unable to bother her about Damon without possibly losing him as a coach. And then there were her slew of Dick pics for the day.
After Dick Cheney and Dick Butkus, Damon had fallen silent, his five-pic quota all used up.
She’d been impressed, curious to see if he’d send her any the next day.
Thus far in her Friday, she’d received Dick Francis, which, as a reader, she appreciated. But then he’d gotten a little desperate.
Emily Dick-enson.
Charles Dick-ens.
Scrooge McDick. Which should have been Scrooge McDuck, but she decided to give him a little latitude.
Waiting to go on her date inside Jeff’s place—because no matter who he might be, Damon didn’t rate knowledge of her address on a first date—she felt a strange bundle of nerves about going out. Odd, because she hadn’t expected to be nervous. Not like tonight would go anywhere but maybe a romp in bed.
Still, she kept remembering his smarmy grin, those huge hands and broad chest, but more, his beautiful gray eyes that seemed to shine with constant mirth when looking at her.
“I can’t wait to hear all the details,” Jeff reminded her. He still wore his work clothes, minus the lab coat.
“You look tired.”
“Thanks. You look like a hag too.”
She turned at his snark and crossed her arms over her chest. “Really?”
“Well, no. Taking my advice is a good look for you.”
“Thanks.” She wore jeans that hugged her butt, a soft pink sweater that didn’t cling but did showcase the fact she had a waist, and her hair down. She wore minimal makeup: eyeliner and a hint of blush. But she’d worn her lucky sapphire studs in her ears, per Jeff’s orders.
“Try not to be too easy. Make him work for it.”
