Until There Was You(68)
“Okay. See you around.” She flopped back down on the pillows and closed her eyes.
He stood there, suspicious. Maybe she was about to bury a knife between his shoulder blades. Or maybe he’d just really hurt her feelings. Maybe she really didn’t care if she ever saw him again. Or maybe…here was an odd thought…maybe she’d just used him for sex.
User’s manual—so handy. “You free on Sunday?” The words seem to fall out of his mouth without permission.
She opened one eye. “Maybe.”
“Want to do something?”
Her eyes stayed closed. “Something fling-ish that doesn’t imply commitment?”
“Um…I get the feeling I’m being led to my doom. Can I take the fifth and just see you again?”
To his surprise, she laughed and sat up again, reached out and patted his knee. “Sure, biker boy. Now get out. I have to go to work.”
He hesitated until she gave him an ungentle shove with her foot, then left, somewhat confused, mildly suspicious and…huh. And kind of happy.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“OMG. YOU SLEPT WITH him? Tell me everything. Every detail. Does he manscape?”
“What does that mean, Jon? I’m not g*y, remember?” Posey smiled. She was feeling rather smug. And deeply satisfied. And still a little tingly. She’d slept with Liam Murphy (holy Elvis!) and he’d actually asked her out again, even if he’d been very clear on what he didn’t want. But men always said stuff like that…at first. Right? And sure, in some cases, they continued to say it. But something told her Liam was different.
“Manscaping means does he have hair on his back? Tell me no. Please.”
“No back hair. Tattoo on his shoulder, though. A Celtic knot or something.”
“A little cliché, but we’ll let it pass. Hi, Lorraine, would you be a saint and give me a little more coffee? It’s so good today.”
She and Jon were eating breakfast at Rooney’s, the tiny little breakfast place on Miner Street. Generally speaking, you’d have to wait an hour to get a table on Founders’ Day Weekend, but as Jon knew and was adored by all in the food industry, the beauty industry, the retail industry and the school system, he’d only had to wave to get them a table on the patio outside, as well as two cheese Danish, on the house.
“By the way,” Jon said, “I’m getting you a Keurig for your birthday so you can stop drinking that swill of yours. Now, back to the dirt. Shovel.”
“Oh, I love Keurigs! Thanks, Jon! Okay, dirt…” She took a bite of her omelet and chewed smugly, if a person could do that. “Well, I always had this nickname for Liam. God’s Gift. God’s gift to women, right?” She grinned at her brother-in-law. “And he is. It was worth the wait.”
“The two-decade wait?”
“It’s more like one and a half, but yes.”
“He looks like he’d be a great kisser. Is he? Think he’d kiss me, just so I could tell?”
“No, I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t, and yes, he’s a great kisser, Jon. Like…legs shot out from under you kind of kissing.”
“Oh, hooray! Now I have something to picture when Henry’s at the hospital all night.” Jon took a long sip of his coffee, looking at her over the rim of the thick mug, his hazel eyes kind.
She knew that look. “What?”
“Nothing.”
“Something. You have reservations.”
Jon winced. “Well, okay, as your best friend—and brother-in-law—and cooking instructor—I have questions, let’s say.”
“Shoot.” She took another bite of the massive omelet, which didn’t taste quite as good as before.
“Back in high school, he was kind of a slut, right?”
She gave a half nod. “A bad boy. He took what was offered, let’s put it that way. Until he met Emma Tate, that is. The girl he ended up marrying.”
“And Emma…what was she like?”
“Oh, you know. Squeaky-clean, super nice. She’s the one who fixed me up for the prom.”
Jonathan’s eyebrows rose. “Ah. The prom. Where you had such fun?”
“My date stood me up. It happens.” She took a sip of coffee.
“It seems like more than that, since you still refuse to chaperone. Anyway, back to the Taming of the Bad Boy. He meets the princess, and they lived happily ever after until she dies. Is that right?”
“As far as I can tell.”
“Is he still—how did you put it?—taking what’s offered? Still a slut? Because I’ll beat him up if he is,” Jon said, and Posey smiled.
“Home-ec teacher takes on mechanic. I like it,” she said. “But no. I mean, I’ve seen women talking to him, but I think he’s pretty focused on his daughter these days.”
Jon nodded. “That’s what I’ve heard, too.” Jon had his thumb on the pulse, as a high-school teacher. “So, is this the real deal for you, Posey?”
Time for a mega-bite of home fries to stall. “Um…it’s all new. Just Wednesday night, you know?”
“But you already look like you’re in love.”
“Please,” she said, though she felt a telltale heat in her cheeks.