Yikes, she was a sad, sad case.
With new resolve, Petula pulled out blush, eye shadow, and mascara, determined to at least feel extra pretty this morning.
As she inexpertly applied the cosmetics, she pondered her hair. Up like usual, or down?
Up. Definitely.
She didn’t want to make it look like she was going totoomuch trouble.
Ten minutes later,Petula almost made it out the door without running into her brother, but in her flustered state, she’d forgotten the sandwich she’d made for lunch. Sneaking back to the kitchen, she grabbed the bag from the fridge and turned around swiftly, running head-first into a hard chest.
“Damn, Stat. I hate it when you do that sneaking up thing.”
The man was six-two to her five-three, and was grinning like a fool as he looked down at her. “Speaking of sneaking, I smelled perfume, and wondered who’d snuck into our house.”
So, sue her. She’d decided to smell good. It was none of his business.
“Hah, hah. You’re a riot.”
“I am. And now I see that you’ve also done something girly to your face,” he snickered. “Go get ‘em, tiger,” he encouraged with a smirk.
“You’re an ass,” Petula grumbled.
“Nope.” Stat stepped close and gently surrounded her with one of his big, warm hugs. “Just a brother who’s got high hopes for the sister he loves, and is feeling a bit…giddy.”
Giddy wasnota term she’d ever heard come out of her “take no prisoners” brother’s mouth, but she got it. He was excited for her.
She hoped she didn’t let him down.
“I want to make sure you know I’m actually trying, here,” Petula emoted softly into his flannel shirt. “Because it would be so easy to self-sabotage.”
“Uh, uh. No deliberately fucking this up,” he chided tenderly. “It looks like a man has finally caught your attention, and for that I’m beyond happy.” His voice grew firm. “But if he hurts your feelings in any way, you only have to let me know and I’ll come beat the crap out of him. Got it?”
Now Petula chuckled. “Down, boy. Down. You know those Sothards. He’s not going to purposely do anything to upset me. But…” She had to state her worries one more time, “…he can’t be blamed if he can’t handle all the skeletons in my closet.”
“Let’s not borrow trouble. It’s early yet. Go.” Statler pulled away and turned her toward the door with a mild push. “Drink coffee. Have fun.”
“I’ll try.”
Petula’s first impulse,as she pulled up in front of the Bear’s Claw, was to drop her car back in gear, drive to the gas station down the block, run into their bathroom, and scrub her face clean.
She glanced at the coffee shop.
Rats.
Julian had arrived before her. Of course he had. And he was already sitting at a table, waving to her from his seat by the window.
Suck it up, Petti, she told herself.It’s only an hour.
Actually, it would be forty-five minutes, tops, since she had to drive to the UPS hub and pick up her truck that would be loaded by the time she punched in.
She could do this. She could.
She returned Julian’s wave, then grabbed her keys from the ignition. Petula sucked in a fortifying breath, pasted a smile onto her face, and got out of the car. She walked slowly to the front door as if it were a gallows march, pushed her way into the already bustling place, and…
Julian stood, giving her arealsmile as he pulled out her chair.
“You look beautiful today,” he stated sincerely, then hastily added, “Not that you don’t always, but I can tell you’ve done something different.” He looked puzzled, perusing her, as would a guy who’d grown up without sisters around to clue him in.
