“Number one, everyone knows which house was owned by the founder of North Hills Railway. Number two, everyone knows where the mayor lives. Number three, your brother is a lieutenant with the police department and there was an unmarked police car sitting outside the house.”
Jamie huffed out a laugh as he buckled his seat belt, then looked right at her. Suddenly catapulted back to the morning, she remembered that odd moment when her alarm went off. She’d been dreaming all right, dreaming of Jamie under the cottonwood tree, hot and hard inside her, hot and hard against her. It was so real, so vivid, like the park and the basketball court were the only places they existed, her own bedroom looked unfamiliar. It didn’t happen often anymore; a life on the road, waking up in hotel rooms and friends’ apartments all over Europe, taught her brain to remember where she was and supply that information as she woke up. One night with Jamie disoriented her that easily.
“Ready when you are,” he said.
She tried to put the car in reverse, remembered she hadn’t started it, turned the key, then successfully reversed out of the driveway. Jamie had his fingers tucked into the weather stripping at the top of the window. His other hand rested casually on his thigh.
Apparently things weren’t going to be any different because they’d slept together.
“What were you two up to?” she asked.
“Mom wants us to clean out the eaves,” he answered. “She kept everything from our childhood. Every paper, every art project, every toy and game and book we ever owned is shoved into the eaves of that house. She decided, since I’m home for a month, that Ian could take some time off and we’d go through it all.”
“But she was the one who kept it,” Charlie said, trying to wrap her mind around a mother who cherished kindergarten art projects and role-playing fantasy games and merge with traffic heading downtown at the same time.
“Rule number one in the Hawthorn house is don’t argue with Mom.”
“What’s rule number two?”
“There is no rule number two,” Jamie said, stone cold serious.
“I met her a few weeks ago, when the kids started planning the banquet,” Charlie offered. “She seemed nice.”
“She’s very nice. She absorbed all of the good stuff from marrying a Marine turned cop, and brought her own brand of ladylike to it. Where are we headed?”
“NoDo. There’s a couple of boutiques there I’ve had good luck with in the past.” Charlie turned onto the brick-paved streets and nabbed a parking spot. “What time is it?”
“Just after five. Free parking,” Jamie said, and swung out of the car.
The sidewalks weren’t very crowded yet, although a few couples and groups occupied the patio tables at the restaurants interspersed with the shops and boutiques. Charlie reached for the handle to The Kicky Goose only to find Jamie’s hand closing on the wrought iron bar before hers. He gave her a smile and opened the door.
“Hi, Charlie!” Conscious of Jamie’s presence behind her, she gave Taylor a quick hug, then introduced Jamie. Taylor’s eyes lit with more than appreciation of a well-built male form. “What can I do for you?”
“I need a dress.”
“You always make it sound like you need a root canal,” Taylor said. “Or open heart surgery. It kills me. Kills me. Your body, and you wear workout clothes and the same schlumpy pants suits that hide your cute little fanny.”
“I’m a ball player, not a model.” She added hastily, “And a teacher and a coach.”
“If Tom Brady and David Beckham can be both, so can you,” Taylor purred, making Charlie laugh. “When do you need this dress?”
“Tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?! As in tomorrow tomorrow? As in, twenty-four hours from now?”
Jamie chuckled, presumably at Taylor’s flabbergasted tone. Charlie glared at him, and he wiped the smile off his face. “That’s so not funny,” he said.
“It’s not funny at all,” Taylor said. “What’s it for?”
“I need a dress for the banquet, and another one for the garden party tomorrow evening.”
“So you need a dress in twenty-four hours, and a gown in forty-eight.”
“A dress, not a gown.”
“You’re arguing with me. She’s arguing with me,” she said to Jamie. “She’s got her figure hidden in that sad sack suit, and arguing with me.”
“It’s hard to fathom,” Jamie agreed.
“I’ll go to the mall,” Charlie said. “Watch me go to H&M.”
“You most certainly will not,” Taylor retorted. “Lucky for you I like a challenge. And I like seeing you look absolutely fabulous.” She pointed at a rack along the floor-to-ceiling windows running the length of the shop. “Start there. That’s my summer party dress selection. I’ll pull gowns for you.”
Twenty minutes later Charlie was in a tiny dressing room with half a dozen cocktail dresses and three gowns she called “long dresses” just because she was stubborn. And nervous about modeling in front of Jamie.