Not good sex, apparently.
Whose side are you on?
And now she was arguing with herself. She shook her head again at her unusual flightiness and opened the shower door.
Thirty-five minutes later, she walked into the kitchen. Charlie and Polly were finishing the last of their food. Both glanced up at her and gave her happy grins, then went back to finishing their kibble.
“Thanks for feeding them,” she said.
“No problem. One scoop each, right? That’s what you gave them last night?”
“Yeah.” She stood in the center of the kitchen with her hands on her hips, staring at her dogs.
“What’s wrong?”
“I want to take Polly with me today, but that means leaving Charlie at the house by himself.”
“Leave him here.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, why not? He seems to be housebroken. I have stuff to do to get ready for next week so he can hang out here. No big deal.”
It was a big deal. Charlie and Polly were her fur babies. “Thanks.”
Jase gave Bree a head tilt and finished pouring coffee into two travel mugs. “Sugar is on the table. Milk is in the fridge. I don’t do that flavored crap.”
Bree smiled at the idea of Jase waiting all year long for eggnog-flavored coffee creamer. “Just milk.”
They finished making their to-go cups and headed out to Jase’s truck. The drive to Bree’s house seemed much quicker now that she was paying attention. Jase really didn’t live that far from her. Twenty minutes in the country made them practically neighbors. They had probably passed each other on the road, in the store, in any number of places over the years without ever realizing it.
Jase pulled in behind Bree’s SUV and put his truck in park. “You got an extra house key?”
Bree took her keys out of her purse and removed one from the ring. “Kitchen door.”
Jase grabbed her behind the neck and pulled her to him, giving her a hard kiss. “I want you back at my house tonight. Don’t make me track you down again,” he warned.
Bree gave him a baleful look. “You have Charlie.”
Jase grinned. “Oh yeah. Look how that worked out.”
“Jackass.”
“Brianna, honey, can you take a look at my hip? I keep feeling a click when I walk.”
“You were shagging again, weren’t you, Ms. Mary?” Bree asked, referring to the Carolina dance similar to the swing.
“Well, you know William just won’t take no for an answer,” Ms. Mary said.
“Uh huh. And it had nothing to do with the jive competition I saw flyers for last week?”
“I couldn’t very well let someone else take my title. Janice Wilkinson told Emily she and David could take me and William. She may be five years younger than I am, but she couldn’t shag her way out of a broom closet.”
Bree couldn’t help but laugh at the unintended double meaning of what Ms. Mary said. “Let’s take a look at you and make sure you didn’t actually throw out your hip. You need to take it a little easier. You’re not five years younger, you know.
Ms. Mary lay down on the portable massage bed Bree had set up in one of the unused offices. “Oh honey, when you stop dancing through life, you may as well stop living. You’re only as old as you think you are. In my mind, I’m still twenty years old and driving boys crazy on the Strand in Myrtle Beach.”
“Well, you might want to have your mind talk to your hips, because they’re in their eighties.”
