Page 11 of Fairy Godmothers Aren't Cheap

“Don’t you find that?” he asked.

“I don’t…” My tongue got all twisted, my imagination running wild at the suggestion of a one-night stand with James. His strong biceps like a vise around me, his weighty, muscular body…. Wow. Forget it becoming parka weather out here, break out the shorts. I resisted fanning myself and muttered, “I never. I…”

“You’ve never-ever?”

“No!” Out of habit, I glanced about for eavesdroppers judging me, then lowered my voice. “Not like that. I’m not a—you know. I’m just not someone who moves fast, or is into one-night stands.”

“But you think I am?” James said, tone wounded.

It took me a moment to realize he was kidding, and I barely refrained from giving him another shove—this one out of frustration. What was with me tonight? Yeah, I wanted to touch the man, but shoving him? That was hardly a good way to show how I felt. The move didn’t even work for fourth graders on the playground.

“You’re frustrating,” I grumbled.

He flashed me a triumphant grin and let his shoulder bump into mine as we meandered in the direction of the staff parking lot’s entrance.

I struggled for a way to recover the conversation, so it didn’t end on the note of my spectacular awkwardness.

“Where are you taking her?”

“Probably Earl’s.” He gave a one shoulder shrug.

“Fancy.”

He gave me a dry look. “Not really, but not everyone loves Peter’s.”

I gave a dramatic gasp. Peter’s Drive-In was a long-established burger joint in the city and had the absolute best milkshakes. Plus, when you ordered a large fries, it came in a shoebox. Mind. Blown.

Okay, so they didn’t do that anymore. But still. Impression made. They meant business and I could totally climb aboard that train.

“Real women love Peter’s.”

“You’re not real, Char.” He bumped his shoulder against mine, giving me a look of affection that made me hope he’d cancel his date and see me as ‘real’—whatever that meant to a single hunk like him.

* * *

“It should be right here,”I muttered to myself, pacing outside a row of single-storey businesses. On my walk to YFGM’s address, I’d promised myself I’d extricate myself from this erroneous invoice, laugh off anything fairy godmother-like, as well as act tough in the face of a potential scam.

But I hadn’t expected to find nothing.

Studying the buildings coated with dust with their air of neglect, I couldn’t find Your Fairy Godmother. I didn’t know whether to scream in frustration or to relax in relief.

I took another scan. I wasn’t a city girl, and sometimes street addresses left me muddled. If the address wasn’t ‘go a mile past the large pine,’ I got lost, and tenth was an odd, east-west strip through the city, scattered with more parking lots than buildings. To further limit my options, the Canada Pacific’s main rail line ran behind the south-facing row of buildings instead of there being an alleyway.

It was this or nothing. And it was looking like nothing—a dead end.

However, this would be a great place for an underground nightclub.

Train? What train? They’d never hear it over the thumping music.

I counted off the businesses again, determined to get to the bottom of YFGM. 810, 1210, 1410. 1010 and 1010B were completely absent.

“1010B, 1010B,” I muttered to myself on the empty sidewalk. I scanned again and there it was: Photocopies and Beyond. How had I missed it the first few times?

I mean, to my credit, it was one of those skinny places that was basically the width of a door with a tiny window above it to let in a bit of light. Since there was no second level to the buildings, it was probably just a staircase that led to a basement.

Creepy.

Although…nightclubs were often in basements. But so were kidnapped women, according to awful TV shows that refused to leave my memory banks. Why couldn’t every scene with Luke fromGilmore Girlsstay rooted in my mind instead? They weremuchmore pleasant.

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