“Sophie was in a fire a few days ago,” Iona explained to the two women. “The office building on Garcia that burned?”
“I heard about that on the news,” Betsy said. “You were in it?”
“Firefighter Nate, who is allegedly one sexy specimen, had to carry her out,” Iona said.
“Oh, my God!” Suri gently squeezed Sophie’s feet. “You poor thing.”
“Poor thing?” Betsy said. “Carried out by a hot firefighter? Sign me up.”
“A hot firefighter who cooked her dinner last night,” Iona added, and Sophie reminded herself this was allegedly how girl time went. Not that she had any experience with it. Serving alcohol was an effective icebreaker.
“Bet dinner’s not all that was cooking,” Betsy said, and Sophie couldn’t help thinking about the kisses on the balcony, in spite of her reluctance to share with these women she didn’t know.
“He was … perfect,” Sophie said, finishing up her champagne. “A perfect gentleman.” All three women stared at her, waiting for more, and she grinned, feeling the beginning effects of the alcohol. “Even when I didn’t want him to be.”
Betsy howled, and Iona reached out for Sophie’s hand. “You so deserve a good man, Soph. Are you going to see him again?”
“I don’t know. I kind of left it in his court.”
Both of the nail girls glanced up at her, and Iona let out a quiet “oh.” She watched Sophie with a question in her eyes.
“What was I supposed to do?” Sophie asked, knowing full well she was out of her element by a couple hundred zip codes. She couldn’t bring herself to admit that Nate had been the one to come to his senses and slow things down. She’d thought he’d been into it, would’ve sworn to it at the time, but now her confidence faltered, and she wasn’t sure of anything.
Suri had finished pumicing her feet and walked behind a marble-looking wall for a moment. She returned with the champagne bottle. “You get seconds since it’s your first time.”
“Heck, give her thirds for being pulled out of a burning building,” Betsy said.
“I’ll take you up on seconds anyway,” Sophie said, holding her flute up. She wasn’t a big drinker, but it was going down smoothly, she wasn’t driving, and she needed the liquid courage, considering the topic.
“If you’re interested in this firefighter,” Betsy said as she trimmed Iona’s toenails, “it’s better to have the ball in your court.”
Though Sophie was a point guard all the way when it came to her business, she was more of a bench warmer in dating, never having taken much initiative in her love life. If a guy made it easy for her and she was interested, she might give him a chance. More often than not, she bypassed involvement altogether. She took three sips of champagne.
“Are you interested?” Iona asked.
Too much.
There wouldn’t be a better opportunity to get advice. “Yes.” Ddmitting that didn’t mean she had to follow their suggestions.
“Hmm.” Iona tapped her pursed lips. “Is he working today?” Besty was holding up a sheet of nail color samples, and Iona pointed at a sparkly berry-colored one.
Sophie nodded, and her stomach sank with foreboding that she wasn’t going to like what Iona came up with.
“This is going to work perfectly. I have to bake six dozen of my special salted caramel brownies this afternoon for my grandmother’s retirement home—”
“Six dozen?” Besty asked, the nail polish brush suspended a foot above Iona’s toes.
“I do it once a month. She loves them. Everybody loves them. Which is why they’re the perfect thing to take to the fire station as a token of your thanks.” Iona directed the last bit to Sophie.
“My thanks.”
“For saving your life,” Betsy said.
“Of course.”
“Then you run into Nate and ask him out.” Iona’s eyes shined brightly with enthusiasm.
“I’ve never asked a guy out,” Sophie said, veering more toward dread than enthusiasm.
