My confusion must read on my face, because Nina hurries to fill in the blanks. “Grady met Deandra at one of the meetings, but he had the same problem we all did—everyone else was so much older. So she recommended that he give me a call.”
I feel like I’m being excessively stupid, but my brain is having a hard time putting all of this together. Matilda must be in the same boat, since she blurts out, “Why would you go to a meeting of former nuns?”
Grady shifts, looking a little nervous. “Because,” he returns, “I used to be a priest.”
Want more of the Seduction in the City World? The Common Threads series begins with Ewe Complete Me by Susannah Nix. Read on for a sneak peek!
Do you love romantic comedies? Then check out these other books by Smartypants Romance!
Stud Muffin -- She got arrested...again. And he's the former MMA champ who's going to help her get her life back.
Weight Expectations -- He's the bad boy in the office, and she's most definitely not looking for love.
Heart Smart -- He's a jerk with a capital J, and she's the co-worker determined to fix his bad reputation.
Sneak Peek of Ewe Complete Me by Susannah Nix
Slow walkers were a scourge upon the city streets.
It was all very well to live a leisurely, low-stress life, taking plenty of time to stop and smell the roses—so long as you did it off to one side so those of us with somewhere to be could get past you.
“Pardon me!” I chirped politely as I zipped around a young man strolling down the dead center of the sidewalk with his phone pressed to his ear.
He was too engrossed in his conversation to hear me, and as I drew abreast, his arm shot out to gesticulate at the person on the other end of the phone.
Fortunately, I had ninja-like reflexes when it came to navigating Chicago sidewalks, and I managed to avoid taking a forearm to the face by ducking under the offending appendage. I threw a glance over my shoulder as I hurried past, but the man hadn’t even noticed me—or how close he’d come to breaking my nose.
Unsurprising, really. I’d found as I progressed through my forties that men didn’t seem to see me anymore. It was as if age had rendered me invisible to them, no matter how faithfully I dyed my gray roots copper brown, or how many steps I added to my skincare regimen. (Nine, if you’re wondering. I was up to nine steps, and seriously considering adding two more.)
Never mind Mr. Forearm Tattoo, I had more important things to worry about. The store was supposed to open—I glanced down at my watch—five minutes ago.Fudgsicles!
I picked up the pace, dodging around obstacles and pedestrians like a high-speed Ms. Pac-Man, breaking into a sweat despite the chilly spring weather. Chloe had been scheduled to open this morning, but she’d called in sick an hour ago. I’d still been in my pajamas, unwashed and unshampooed, enjoying a rare late morning in, when she’d phoned to tell me she’d woken with a sore throat and fever.
Sidestepping a yawning young woman in scrubs headed for the hospital a few blocks away, I skipped over the leash of an old man’s wayward dog while giving a wide berth to a deliveryman balancing a stack of boxes. I was moving at a solid clip and making good time until I came up behind a pair of spandex-clad women walking two abreast down the sidewalk ahead of me.
“Excuse me,” I said to the back of their matching Lululemon outfits and bouncy ponytails.
No response. They continued chattering at one another, as oblivious to me as the young man on the phone had been. Apparently, my invisibility wasn’t limited to men.
I’d simply have to go around. If I made myself smaller, I could just squeeze by on one side?—
“Excuse you,” one of the women said when my handbag bumped her elbow as I squeezed between her and a parked SUV.
“Sorry,” I answered reflexively, feeling my face flush with a mix of anger and embarrassment.
It wasn’t my fault Ms. Lululemon had been rudely blocking the sidewalk, yet I couldn’t help the sense of shame that clawed its way out of the pit of my stomach over a small correction from a stranger. My dearly departed mother’s voice rang in my head, admonishing me from beyond the grave:Be polite, Dawn. Say you’re sorry, Dawn. Don’t get in the way, Dawn.
I grimaced and picked up the pace, knowing the sour feeling left by that one insignificant encounter would likely hang over my mood for hours. On the bright side, the sidewalk was mostly clear ahead, and I was able to make the final stretch of my journey down East Randolph without further mishap. I felt a small surge of happiness as I caught sight of the yarn store I’d opened last year.
Mad About Ewe was my pride and joy. Of course I was also proud of my two children, and of course they also gave me joy, but they were both grown, independent humans who made their own decisions these days. There was only so much credit I could take for them anymore. Mad About Ewe, on the other hand, was all mine. The first thing I’d done entirely on my own in my whole adult life.
I’d written up the business plan, picked out the property, furnished the interior (with some guidance from my artist best friend, Angie), and selected the inventory with painstaking care. Although some of the start-up capital had come from my divorce settlement, I considered it fairly earned compensation after twenty-four years of marriage to a world-renowned pulmonologist who’d spent more time at the hospital than at home helping me raise our children and keep our household running.
To be honest, I’d felt more like a personal assistant than a wife for a lot of my marriage. Two years after signing my divorce papers, I was still relishing my freedom. My younger son was off at college and the older one, a recent graduate, was living on his own. Which meant I had the house all to myself, and my time was my own to devote to my new career as an independent businesswoman.
As I drew nearer to the shop, I spied Linda, my most faithful customer, waiting on the sidewalk outside and looking rightfully impatient.Fudgsicles.
“Good morning, Dawn,” she said with a judgmental eyebrow arch. “You’re four minutes late.”
