Mom: I just wanted my boy back. Is that so wrong?
Asher: Geez. Favorites much?
Me: I’m just headed to Reno to see a friend. No need for a family freak-out.
Tiff: He’s avoiding the question. Which means… GIRL.
Kailey: Callum?
Dad: Leave the boy alone.
Mom: Cal?
Me: Fine. She’s a friend who happens to be female.
Tiff: Told ya.
Fran’sshort chestnut hair is pulled back into pigtails. Her apron is on inside-out—does she not realize that? She sits across from me in this booth in a very dead Stacks tonight. I’m confused because the other day, with the guys, it was crazy busy in here.
“Is yourOpensign on?” I ask.
“It’s Tuesday,” she says, as if this explains everything. “We’re never busy on Tuesdays.”
My eyes draw to her red lips. Not because they want to. Not because I’ve kissed those lips. But because tonight they arered—cherry red. And I’d be lying if I said it didn’t work for her. Fran has warm skin and chestnut hair. And red looks good on her.
I lift my eyes to her honey-brown irises. “Is that why I’m here?” I had invited her to Tesoro. But apparently, Fran is a busy one—school, work, and, of course, her dating life.
“Yes. Sal’s cooking tonight. No Glen. Sal doesn’t care if we sit and talk.”
I want to ask if I’m keeping her from anything, but I saw her cleaning when I came in. There’s only one man at the counter—the very man who Fran wished haunting on—and his breakfast for dinner is almost gone.
“Right. Okay, shoot. What can I help you with?”
“Well.” She squirms in her seat. “I told you that I like to remake scenes from movies. And I have some ideas for my next date with Paul?—”
“You mentioned it.” My stomach churns because I don’t care for used car salesman Paul and his viral videos.
“I talk to Rosalie about these things, but I’ve never gotten a man’s perspective.”
I nod, but my brain runs off all the way this could go wrong. What is she asking of me? And does she want my honesty?
“First of all. Red—is it my color?” Her lips pucker, and she waits for my response.
“Red.” I blink, bringing her dark, striking lips in and out of view. “Uh—yeah. Red looks good.” I’m thinking a mile a minute. I can feel the wrinkle sprouting over my forehead. “Is that something you’re, um… testing?”
“Yes. Ever since you kissed me outside that karaoke bar?—”
My pulse quickens with her casual mention of my abnormal behavior.
“I’ve been thinking about lips. In romance movies, we’re always drawn to the heroine. She always has great lips. Bright lips, full lips, red lips. You know?”
I nod—but I absolutely do not know. I’m not really a movie person. But I do know that red looks good on Fran.
“So, the red—it works?”
“It…works.”
“Great.” And then, as if she were taking my order, Fran pulls out her phone and makes a note before turning back to me. “Okay, second opinion: Would you find it strange if a woman left her shoe next to your car?”
