“Then he really wouldn’t forgive me. Besides, I don’t gamble when it comes to my hair.”
Connie sighed loudly. As if she wasn’t fussy about her own hair. My seventy-year-old secretary kept her mane the color ofa wheatfield at dawn, and she NEVER missed an appointment. “What about the other things?” she asked.
“Yes, I’ll find time to check on Donut Haven. Yes to Mike Raintree. Tell him he can have a phone conference at three-fifteen. And do not put off the pro bono case. I can do a later afternoon appointment for her, or I can even meet with her tomorrow. I wouldn’t mind.”
“Okay, I’ll get back to you on that. Enjoy your weekend, Dean.”
“You, too.”
“Do you have any plans tonight?” she asked.
“Yes, I have a date.”
“Did your mother set this one up?”
Connie usually didn’t comment on my family life, and never with snark. So much for wrapping up this conversation. I pulled into my garage and blew a kiss to my shiny new Polaris Ranger in the next stall, silently promising it adventures in the near future. I’d taken it to Sedona once, and I was dying to do it again.
I rested my head back against the leather seat of my Audi. “Was that a dig at my mother, or at me?”
Connie laughed. She feared no one. Oh, to be old enough to never fear the repercussions of anything. “Dearie, the fact that you took it as a dig should tell you something. You only go out with these women to placate her. She’s not even trying to marry you off. It’s just an exchange of favors from one socialite to another. It’s connection building, and you’re that little connector block. So, I’m going to give you some advice. Favors are optional. It’s good for her to be disappointed every now and again. Especially by you.”
I took in a deep breath and blew it out. Connie wasn’t wrong, but I wasn’t sure knowing that would change anything for me. “How long have you been holding onto that?”
“A long time. I’m sorry. You have enough on your shoulders without me tacking on what you should do with your life.”
“Well, you’re usually the one chasing these women off when I stop calling them back.”
“And you pay me well for it.”
“To answer your original question, my date tonight is not a favor to anyone. In fact, my mother wouldn’t approve.”
“Good. In that case, have an excellent time.”
I noticed she didn’t say, ‘I hope you fall in love and live happily ever after.’ It wasn’t just the awful setups I got talked into. Even when I was the one choosing, my dating life never went well. How could it when the one woman I wanted didn’t want me?
Tonight’s date would either be the beginning of changing that, or the moment I blew up a bridge that was already laughably, dangerously unstable.
Chapter 3 – Grace
“Dean!” Piper threw herself into his arms the moment she spotted him on the couch. I had already prepared myself for this moment. His Audi was parked in my brother’s driveway.
“Piper, my friend!” He hugged her before setting her down next to him on the couch and hugging her to his side. He knew I was standing there watching, but he gave her his full attention. It was only what I deserved. I did the same thing to him all the time.
He had this annoying habit of always wearing a silicone bracelet on his wrist, and tonight was no exception. Piper stole it from him and put it on her own wrist, flipping it around and then tracing over the letters with her finger.THE LOVE IS IN THE DETAILS. That’s what it said all the way around. He had to have a drawer full of them somewhere, because he never made her give them back, but he’d have a new one on the next time we saw him.
“Are you staying here, Dean?” Piper asked. “Are Uncle Isaac and Aunt Carmen babysitting you, too?”
Dean laughed. “I wish. I have boring grown-up plans. Like your mom does.” He glanced up at me then, and it took everyounce of poker-face mojo to keep from giving him any kind of reaction, even when his eyes took in my outfit and a slow smile broke out over his face. Yes, I was dressed up, and I’d taken extra care with my makeup. No, I was not going to be self-conscious about it. At least not outwardly.
He had to assume I was the world’s biggest ice queen. But that was better than the truth. Dean Kinney could never know how much I fantasized about him in the one place where it was safe to do so—inside my head. Usually late at night, when my mind wouldn’t turn off.
I had a cheesy romance movie addiction. But my fantasies about Dean were a bit more, um, passionate than the one-kiss endings between medium-attractive actors on the Hallmark Channel. This was because Dean was way beyond medium attractive, and I had years of being single to craft a killer storyline.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, my question sounding way more accusatory than it needed to be. Probably because it was aimed at both the Dean on the couch and the one in my head.
“Isaac and I had work stuff to discuss. How’s your shop?” He ran a hand through his honey-brown hair, and I did my best not to think about how he was days away from cutting it again. I liked the way it curled around his ears and up against his neck, especially when he had on a backwards baseball cap. Not that he was wearing one now. He was as dressed up as me: a pressed button-down shirt, slacks, expensive shoes. His dark socks had Coke bottles on them. Dean and his funky sock collection.
I looked down at my own deep violet dress and cute black peep-toe heels. I’d just added red highlights to the ends of my dark hair. I’d even managed to create beach waves after watching a YouTube video. For once, I didn’t look like my appearance was an afterthought. “The shop is fine.”
