“Maybe someone should tell them,” Shay said. But no one bothered to move—except to pass the popcorn.
“And ruin everyone’s fun?” Emerson jerked her chin to the senior ladies’ water aerobics team, who had left the community pool in their swim caps and suits to watch the show. Eyes big, camera phones rolling, they lined the upper railing of the senior center.
The guys set the table gently on the ground, their muscles straining until Harper heard a few breathy Oh mys flutter over from across the way. And okay, she might have groaned in appreciation too, but who could blame her? It was like watching three gladiators prepare for battle.
Harper smiled at the reference, then felt her body heat rise thinking about last night. It was a hot enough image to have her searing, and she wasn’t lifting anything heavier than popcorn.
After a round of high fives, the guys dusted off their hands and headed back for the storage shed at the far corner of the park. Only Adam stopped to stretch out his arms, lifting them up and over his head, which caused the waistband of his pants to slide down and over the two cute dimples he sported.
Shay turned to Harper. “Is that glitter on Adam?”
Harper tore her eyes off Adam and stifled a giggle. “It’s paint. I practiced some, uh, face masks on him last night.”
Shay snorted. “Then why is it on his lower back?”
Harper looked closer and smiled. So it was.
It looked like he’d missed that spot when showering this morning. Granted, she’d been doing her best to distract him with the soap—and other things. She’d distracted him into a frenzy, then he’d distracted her three times, before dragging her back to bed.
“Huh, I guess it is.” She stood. “Maybe I should go tell him.”
Emerson grabbed her hand and yanked her back down. “That smile says you’re going to do a lot more than tell him. So do all those curls.” Which were held together by a paintbrush and sheer stubbornness. “What happened last night?”
“I guess he likes curls,” she said, still fighting the ridiculous urge to giggle. “He likes it straight, and up, and down.” She shrugged. “He just likes it.”
And he likes me!
“Of course he liked it, you were probably naked,” Frankie said, rushing up to the stage. Her hair was wild, her eyes a little crazed, and she was sweaty—in her normal black-on-black with steel-toed accents. But she looked ready to cry.
Or punch someone.
Not equipped to deal with either outcome, Harper asked, “What’s wrong?”
“I’ll explain everything, but first I need water and I need you to open your shop,” Frankie said. Blanket was trailing behind, his sides heaving as if they’d arrived on foot, from twenty miles away. In a full sprint.
“Emerson, can you get a bottle of water?” Harper asked. Then to Frankie, “I’m not working today. I’m helping out at Beat the Heat.”
“Shit.” Frankie looked around at the crowd. It was still pretty sparse because of the early hour, but the crowd was growing. “I need to buy something. Now.” She looked at Shay, who was her sister-in-law, then handed her the leash. “You watch him. And you,” she said, looking at Harper, “come with me.” She grabbed Harper by the arm and dragged her away from everyone. “I need to buy a test for the . . .” She mouthed baby.
“Oh my God!” Harper took the woman’s hand in her own. “You’re . . .” Pregnant?
Frankie looked at their linked hands and back to Harper, obviously not comfortable with physical contact, or maybe it was public displays of affection, or neither. Harper released her hand and played it cool. “So the weekend getaway worked then?”
“I don’t know. I feel the same, but Blanket’s been acting weird, nuzzling my belly, giving it little love bites. Then last night he started dropping his teething rings on my belly. Two blue rings, right on my belly. It’s a sign, right?”
Harper stood there, mouth open, looking like a fish gasping her last breath. “Uh, I’m not sure alpacas have the gift of fertility detection.” When Frankie looked as if she disagreed, Harper asked, “Have you taken a test?”
“That’s why I’m here. I need you to open your shop so I can take one.”
“We don’t sell, uh, those at the Fashion Flower. Or the Boulder Holder.” In case that was her next question.
“You sell stuff on how to get . . .”—Frankie’s expression told her to fill in the word pregnant—“and stuff for when you’re . . .” pregnant . . . “but nothing to actually see if you are” . . . pregnant?
“Why don’t you go to Bottles and Bottles?” Harper said. “I know the pharmacy will have some. And why are we still not saying the word?”
“I don’t want to jinx it, and do you think I would be here if I could go there?”
“No?”