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“Yes, and temporary, and that’s a plus right now. It’ll also be nice in say, five, six, maybe seven years to go for permanent.”
Her eyes, bottle green like the Colonel’s, went a little dreamy.
“Fall in love, take some time, think about starting a family. I’ve got to get me done first. God, these flowers are so sweet! How smart was I to get a gardener as a housemate?”
“The smartest. When my time comes—and Sam is definitely leading the pack—I want a big, crazy garden, so I have to have a big yard. Little house, no problem, but a big, giant yard.”
She lay back on the cool grass. “Shade trees and ornamentals, paths meandering through cutting gardens and butterfly gardens. Crazy birdhouses and water features. I want the works.”
Morgan stretched out beside her. “We should get a crazy birdhouse. I’m not sure what a cutting garden is, but now I want one.”
“I can make that happen.” She reached over, gave Morgan’s hand a squeeze. “I do love it here. Not the big, giant yard of my dreams, but it’s full of potential. Especially since you let me have my way.”
“We play to our strengths.”
“You should ask Gorgeous Guy over for dinner.”
“We don’t cook.”
“We can put something together. I can ask Mama for something simple but impressive. She’ll know. We’ll clean this up, then go in and figure out what you’ll wear on your date.”
“It’s just pizza, Nina.”
“Today pizza, tomorrow who knows? We play to our strengths,” Nina reminded her as she sat up. “Dating is my area. I think casually sexy for pizza date with Gorgeous Traveling Man.”
“I may not have anything that hits that mark.”
“Trust me, I can make that happen, too.”
She’d wondered if Gorgeous Traveling Man would breeze into the Round on Saturday night—then asked herself what it meant about her that she was disappointed he didn’t.
She told herself it was just as well, as they’d been slammed again. And she’d picked up a short afternoon shift when the Sunday bartender had an emergency appendectomy.
She’d gone straight from work to Nina’s family dinner, enjoyed some amazing paella, a lot of laughs.
After work on Monday, she biked home. Since she’d spent part of her brief downtime over the weekend checking and rechecking her finances, projecting how much she could afford, she’d talked to her office-manager job boss about the costs of taking down the wall, redoing the kitchen—new appliances, new counters, new cabinets. The works.
With that number in mind she biked home, adjusting her plans to fit those finances. Paint the cabinets instead of replacing—for now, because she refused to give up the kitchen island of her dreams.
When she parked her bike, Nina came to the front door.
“You’re cutting it close.”
“I’ve got an hour and a half. Nearly.”
“Get in here,amiga mia. We’ve got work to do. I’m doing your makeup.”
“I know how to do my makeup.”
“You know office-manager makeup, and just-flirty-enough-bartender makeup. But do you know sexy-casual-pizza-date makeup?”
“That’s very specific, but probably.”
“No probablys.” Nina ticked a finger in the air. “My bathroom. I set it all up. I got a stool for you, since you’re six inches taller than me.”
“Six and a quarter inches.”
“Rub it in, Legs.”
