“You have a baggie in your purse?”
“Honey, I’ve been through airport security four times the past month. And I don’t clean out my purses when I change them. I just dump everything from one into the other. I’m collecting baggies. I probably have three.”
“Excellent news, sweetheart,” he muttered and I chuckled again. Then he asked, “How often do you change your purses?”
I blinked, suddenly feeling we were in dangerous territory because I had a lot of purses. I changed them to go with my outfits and shoes so I did this often. And I figured I was in Indiana for the long haul so I’d not packed light, ergo, I brought my horses and kilns and about six suitcases of clothes.
I was worried we’d hit a Mike Flashback considering he told me his ex had over two hundred pairs of shoes and that didn’t scratch the surface of what she bought so I shuddered to think what her handbag collection was like.
Hesitantly, I shared, “Uh…a little more than not enough, a little less than too many.”
Mike was silent a second then his arm gave me a squeeze and he said softly, “Angel, you work and you earn your purses. I was just asking.”
“Okay,” I said softly back.
“Now kiss me, climb off and find me a baggie,” he ordered.
“For a good guy you’re pretty bossy,” I informed him and got another arm squeeze.
“Dusty, kiss me, climb off and find me a baggie.”
“Whatever,” I muttered then did what I was told.
I’d donned and readjusted my clothing and was yanking on my boots when I heard the whir of Mike’s seat readjusting so I twisted my neck to look up at him.
“I think we missed Kirby’s curfew.”
“I hope Darrin didn’t teach his boys how to use his shotguns,” Mike muttered.
I grinned and went back to my boots. “That would be a hope hoped in vain.”
“Lucky I keep a gun in my car. Though, not sure I want my first date with you to end in a shootout with a fifteen year old.”
“This would be bad,” I said through a chuckle as I straightened. Then I found my coat, shrugged it on and turned to him. “Dinner went okay, don’t you think?”
I thought it did.
No was funny, engaging and interesting.
Finley was quiet and watchful, taking things in. I thought this was partly because he was trying to be cool around Clarisse (or maybe he just was cool) and partly because his Dad just died, he had a lot on his mind so he wasn’t at that place where he could be his normal self. His normal self being a lot like No, funny, engaging and interesting but in a more laidback, confident way. No still had more boy in him than man. Even before his Dad died, Fin had more man than boy.
On the other hand, it took a while for Clarisse to warm up. She was a little standoffish and I didn’t know if she was being aloof for Finley’s benefit or because she wasn’t certain what to think of me. This took some time to melt away and eventually she became warmer, more animated. She was still wary but I began to get the impression that it was less that she wasn’t certain what to think of me and more worried about what I was going to think of her.
To help her with this, I didn’t fawn over her. There was only one way for me to be so that was what I was. I was me. Mike, too, didn’t make a big deal of things and was just Mike. She finally settled into it and gave us what I suspected was a hint of the real Clarisse. I wasn’t sure but I didn’t think we got all of Clarisse but what we got of her was sweet.
Confirming my assessment, Mike stated on a thoughtful mutter, “Reesee wasn’t Reesee. She was getting there but I think Fin being around put her off. You and Fin, it was too much for her.”
“They’ve got something going on,” I informed him.
“They do. And this is unfortunate since that’s not going to happen,” Mike informed me.
I blinked.
Then I asked, “What?”
“That’s not going to happen,” Mike mostly repeated.
“Why?” I asked.
“Why?” he asked back.
“Yeah, babe. Why?”
“How many reasons do you want?”
“How many do you have?”
Mike was looking at me but when he spoke again he twisted his torso so he was fully turned to me and he started counting them down, “First, he’s too old for her. She’s fourteen.”
“I learned tonight her birthday is tomorrow, Mike, so she’s very nearly fifteen.”
“Right. Then, he’s too old for her. She’s fifteen.”
“Mike –”
“He’s also had himself some. My guess, not a little. My guess, a goodly amount. And he’s not going to get any from my fifteen year old daughter.”
I felt my eyes get round.
“He’s had some?” I asked.
“Definitely,” Mike answered.
“Oh my God,” I whispered. “How do you know?”
“A seventeen year old boy that hasn’t had any acts like No. A seventeen year old who’s had a go or two acts like No. A seventeen year old boy who’s seen some action acts like Fin.”
“Holy crap.” I was still whispering.