Danger grinned, accentuating the barely-there dimple on his chin. “I have a dress code, Virginia. You work from home and look like you’re going on a fall picnic… with a maaann,” he sang. They’d obviously been spending too much time together.
“Newsflash. You, my friend, are a man.” Ginny looked down at the loose boho-style, rust-colored dress she’d chosen that morning. “And, this old thang? I just found it lingerin’ in my closet, so I thought I’d give it a whirl. ” She waved him off and fully committed todeny, deny, denythe fact that she’d specifically chosen this particular dress as she’d thought of the possibility of seeing Ryan that morning.
She heard the faintest reminder in her head from both her sister’s voices saying,We don’t wear clothes for boys, just as they had when she was growing up, but she flicked those pesky gals away. They’d sabotaged her. Chosen meddling over sisterhood.What did they know?
Did she have a wonderful time the other night? Yes. Had she repeatedly dreamt of Ryan’s green eyes as he softly whispered,You smell like warm brownies fresh outta the oven, Virginia, every night since he’d dropped her off.
Also, pathetically, yes.
But her sisters were busy bodies, and they would pay. She’d revoke their loft cuddling privileges. Or sabotage them in dominoes… Or teach their kids the wrong names for animals. The sky was the limit.
Ginny ran her hands over the cotton fabric of her dress and let her hands rest, clasped on her lap. “I just wanted to look nice to see my good buddy at work… and bring him a little lunch treat.”
“And…?” he wiggled his eyebrows, his ridiculously handsome smile tilting up his cheek. “I heard all about the Remillard mayhem last weekend.”
She covered her face with her hands and mumbled through her fingers. “Blehhhh. Who told you?”
“Oh, I got a first hand account from the man himself. Then from Carolina, who—by the way—was prouder of her work than a show dog on Thanksgiving Day.”
“She’s dead to me.” Ginny offered the spare scone to her friend and settled back into her chair once he took a bite.
“Hey, have you ever been to that record store in Honey Hill?”
He looked up from the scone, appearing slightly annoyed at the interruption of his love affair with her mama’s baked goods. “No. I’m pretty sure you’re the only person under thirty that even owns a record player, let alone knowin’ how to operate one.”
“Right.”Definitely not Danger, then.
“Good gracious, I’ll never get enough of your mama’s cookin’.” Danger groaned as he took another bite. “Are you surewe can’t just run off and get married now? I don’t wanna live a life without a permanent attachment to these scones.”
“You can’t use me for my mama’s baked goods,Daniel.”He hated it when Ginny called him by his given name.
Danger’s eyes narrowed. “I can try,Ginny.” And he’d been one of the first people she’d asked to call her Virginia. He only called her Ginny when he had a hankerin’ to irritate her.
“Your man bun is crooked.”
He flinched but didn’t adjust. “Is that any way to talk to a prospective husband?”
Ginny glared but held in her laughter. Danger had no more intention of marrying her than of cutting off his ridiculous man bun. Though she’d never admit it to him, he was the only person she knew who could pull it off.
A throat cleared and both their heads whipped to the door where Ryan leaned against the frame and then slipped, nearly toppling over at their swift attention. He had on a well-worn, Sugartree Armadillos’ t-shirt, sweats, and tennis shoes. And though he was dresseddowncompared to Danger, Ginny had a hard time looking away from him. He looked impossibly soft and warm and inviting.
“Oatmeal raisin cookies,” she whispered to herself like a swear word.
Ginny clenched her hands together just to keep from jumping out of her seat and running her fingers through Ryan’s wavy hair.
“Um, hey, guys.” Ryan righted himself against the door frame again and tilted his head in greeting to Ginny, holding up his bag lunch. “I thought we were havin’ lunch in here, Mac, but I’d hate to interrupt this breathtaking proposal.” Ryan, though a friend now, only referred to Danger as Mac, short for Mr. McDuffey.
Danger merely shrugged, an extremely satisfied smile on his face as he leaned over his desk into Ginny’s personal space. “I’ve told you before, Hood, until you call dibs, she's on the market.”
Ginny scoffed and ripped the final bite of scone out of Danger’s hand. “I amNOTup for dibs!” She popped the scone into her mouth, stood, and straightened her dress before pointing her finger in Danger’s smug face, chiding, “No more scones for you. You’re officially cut off.”
Ryan stood at attention, blocking her path from the office. “Were you gonna stay for lunch?” He gave his lunch bag another small shake.
She’d eaten at the school with her sister and Ryan enough times to know that he packed the same lunch every day. A turkey and cheese sandwich, salt and vinegar chips, an apple, and a single tootsie-pop. He ate it in that order, with the same people—either Caroline or Danger, depending on availability—at the same time. Every. Single. Day. The man was a creature of habit.
“I had a scone earlier.”
“Wouldn’t call that a lunch.” Ryan gave her outfit a casual once over but then settled his eyes on her face. “Were you goin’ somewhere? You look… well, you look cute.”
