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“It sounds like teenagers playing out-of-tune instruments in somebody’s garage.”
She turns down the music and sadly, stops dancing. “I think it is. You remember Skye? Mitchell and Deena’s daughter? She raved about the band when she picked up that dress I gave her. I wanted to give them a try. In the spirit of supporting local music.”
“You’re even more dedicated than I thought.”
She flashes an indignant look. “Some of their songs are enjoyable.”
I stare her down. “We’ve been listening for almost an hour, and I wouldn’t call any of those songs enjoyable.”
“It probably helps if you’re dating one of the guys in the band.”
“Yeah, well, you’re spoken for, so you’re free to turn that racket off at any time.”
She holds my gaze for several long seconds. This might be where I get the pointy end of her defensive stick. Not for the teenage warbling coming from her phone, but in defense of herself. I can’t remind her this is all pretend and then claim her as my own.
Why did I ever do that first part?
Oh, right. The threat of imminent bodily harm from her father via shiny new Callaway golf clubs. Also: Huge, unwieldyfear that this is all too much. Too soon, too big, too vulnerable. Distance seemed the wiser choice, but I haven’t done so well with two days of it. I don’t want more.
Finally, her mouth tips up. “You sound like an old man.”
I release the breath I’ve been holding. “That music makes me feel like an old man.”
“Maybe it should. You’re more than twice their age.”
I put my hand over my heart. “Salt in the wound, princess.”
We go out front to admire her work. The window is an explosion of flag-themed merchandise, but that feels just right for the Fourth of July.
“Festive,” I say.
“I like it. Glittering and full of charm.”
“Just like you.”
Her mouth takes on a skeptical slant, but her eyes light up when she looks past me. “Hi!”
At this point, I almost expect to find Josh behind me, but I don’t think she would greet him with that much warmth. I turn to see two older women almost on top of us on the sidewalk. They both have gray hair, a slight stoop to their shoulders, and sly smiles.
“Lila!” one says. “How nice to see you.”
“We won’t keep you long,” the other says, eyeing me. “We can see you’re busy.”
Lila slips an arm around my waist without hesitation. “Ada and Isabel, this is my much older boyfriend Grant.”
The two womentskand laugh over her teasing. I glare down at her, but she’s wholly unrepentant, lightly digging her fingers into my side like she’s searching for ticklish spots.
“He doesn’t look much older to me.” Ada lifts her eyebrows scandalously.
“Behave.” Her friend rolls her eyes as if she’s used to these antics.
“What can I do for you?” Lila asks.
“We just wanted to let you know we’re pushing for you to get that tourism job.”
“I only wonder why they haven’t given it to you already,” Isabel adds. “You’re the perfect fit.”
Lila’s fingers on my side go still. “I didn’t realize people knew about that.”
