Page 7 of Daring Lance

“That pitcher is too heavy is all. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have a problem,” Ruby retorted, her curlers bobbing around her head as she sat down on the left side of the couch, her ample girth taking up almost an entire cushion.

“I baked brownies as well,” chimed in Lily as she made herself comfortable in a chair opposite Ruby. She leaned over and patted Willow on the upper thigh, and Willow immediately sat down on the couch as well. “Not to worry, these are plain chocolate. I save my hash ones for Monday night poker. I’d make them more often, but I don’t drive, and it’s hard to get an Uber to wait around for you when shopping at the cannabis store. They always think you’re going to stiff them.”

Willow’s eyes jolted wide. She hoped her geriatric neighbor was joking. “Oh, ah, I’m sure these are delicious. I… how can I help you ladies?”

Each of the women’s gazes remained fixated on the large margarita pitcher, and Willow immediately reacted. “Oh, right.” She quickly poured the strawberry drink into four glasses, taking a sip of her own while wondering if it would be rude to pour herself a second one right away-although, judging by the way the woman slurped down their drinks, she would probably have to fight them for it.

“As I mentioned, I’m Bernadette, the resident realtor in the building—"

Willow smiled, finally catching on. “Oh, I’m not sure I want to buy yet. I’m renting my friend Madison’s place until I decide what I want to do.”

Bernadette waved a wrinkled, bejeweled hand in front of her. “That’s not what we are here about… although Doris in 1012 turned ninety-eight a few weeks ago, and we heard over canasta this afternoon that she’s not feeling too hot. Her place might be available soon, and I can guarantee you a good price. She has only one son, and that no-good schmuck will be ready to unload the place before they can zip up the body bag.”

“The no-good schmuck is right,” Lily quietly repeated before taking a large gulp of her margarita, half emptying the glass, Willow noticed. Not that she was judging her elderly neighbors; she hoped she was still throwing back cocktails as well as they were at their age.

“He certainly is a schmuck,” echoed Ruby between slurps of margarita. “Spoiled rotten, if you ask me. Seventy-eight years old and driving a red sports car like he’s some hedge fund manager millennial. As if a fancy car keeps anyone’s focus off of all of the liver spots on his arms. No thank you, not even with the lights off.”

Bernadette leaned in and with a wink told Willow, “Ruby invited him to her place for drinks, and he told her that she was too old for him. She’s a wee bit bitter.”

Willow choked back a gulp of margarita. Holy cow, she could get to like these ladies. “Well, I will keep the condo in mind, thanks.”

Lily licked at the few brownie crumbs stuck to the corner of her lips and then took a sip of her margarita before looking Willow straight in the eye. “I need you to translate my website.”

Willow’s head involuntarily jutted back. “Your website?”

“Lily’s Lingerie. You’ve heard of it, haven’t you?” Bernadette thumped the base of her cane on the ceramic tile, and Willow edged toward the back of the couch.

“Lily’s Lingerie? I’m not sure that I have. I don’t typically shop for lingerie online.”

“Oh, my goodness, we will definitely fix that! You’ll loveLily’s Lingerie.Everyone does.” Lily exclaimed proudly. “Opened the online business two years ago, and business is booming. I’ve gone global, but I don’t think I’m reaching a broad enough target base because my website is only in English. I need it translated into multiple languages, and Lance said you speak six other than English. I want my website translated into all six.”

“Pass me a brownie, Ruby, before you’ve eaten them all,” chirped up Bernadette.

Willow bit back a smile. While she found the women charming, she didn’t have time to help them with their website. She currently had three television series and two full-length movies commanding her attention. She could only imagine the lingerie the website sold, and visions of granny panties, the title her friends gave to full size women’s briefs, danced before her eyes. Nope, she needed to let the women down gently and was about to do that when the doorbell rang again.

“Oh, my, I wonder if that’s Courtney? Perhaps her stool softeners finally got things cooking again, and she’s feeling better. Although, the gas those pills caused last time was terrible and went on for days,” pointed out Lily.

Willow stood up, not sure if she should answer the door or try to escape out of the bedroom window. After spending only a few minutes with the trio, she determined that she’d better answer the door. They were likely to jump out the window after her, and that certainly could not end well for any of them.

“Lance?” Willow allowed her eyes to do a quick glide downward, over the ever-constant snug black T-shirt that molded itself to his chest and flat torso before being tucked into his typical faded pair of Levi’s. Too late, she realized her mistake, as now she could barely think straight. Returning her gaze to meet his blue eyes did not help the fuzziness that overtook her brain.

“Hi. Do you have a minute? I may have volunteered you to help some of the ladies in the building and wanted to give you a heads up.”

Willow imagined running her tongue over the sleek muscles across his chest when his words finally registered in her brain. Wow, these margaritas certainly packed a punch, she realized too late. “Not may have.” She pulled the door open wide to provide him with a view of her living room and its occupants. “You did.” She raised a brow high on her forehead, all naughty thoughts about him pushed to the back of her mind, for now. Thank God.

The corner of one side of Lance’s mouth crept upward into a mischievous grin. “Ah, yeah, about that—”

Willow wrapped her hand around his upper arm, swallowing inwardly as she felt the hard muscles under her fingers, and yanked Lance into the room. “Please come in, Lance. I’m sure the ladies would love to see you. Perhaps you’d like a brownie?” Willow provided him with her best fake smile, and she was sure he knew it.

“I don’t want to interrupt or anything.”

Willow shook her head as she continued to guide him, rather forcibly, closer to the trio of octogenarians perched on her living room furniture.

“Lance, my, you look dashing this evening! Like a villain in one of those romance novels Selma in unit 1209 reads.” Ruby actually battered her heavily mascaraed eyelashes, and it was all Willow could do to keep from laughing.

Bernadette swallowed a large gulp of her margarita and set the glass down on the coffee table, a bubble of laughter slipping from her brightly purple tinted lips. Willow imagined Bernadette chose the color to match her house coat but didn’t care how it looked against her pale, white skin. Willow had to admit, though, that the lipstick did complement the lavender rinse in Bernadette’s hair. “And with a name like Lancelot, how could you think otherwise? Lily, I think you should create a line of lingerie using the name Lancelot!”

Ruby clapped her hands together, and Willow was grateful that a glass wasn’t in them. The elderly woman had already kicked back two drinks in the few minutes since she arrived. “That’s a wonderful idea, Bernadette. Lily, you could add a tagline, something like ‘The Lancelot Collection: Appreciated by Gallant Men everywhere.’”

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