Page 3 of Dream a Little Dream

“Fair point. Now what? I gotta get moving on a plan to make it happen.”

“That’s all you. You’re the idea-girl-that-could and will. However,” he tossed his dark hair as if it would move, “I’d be happy to consult on the numbers since you tend to be the dreamer in our duo. No pun intended, ma’am.”

“You nailed it all the same.”

Not the first time I’d heard that one. Living in quaint little Dreamer’s Bay did fit my personality like a marker to its cap. And Jonathan’s numbers prowess was what made him the hottest financial planner in our adorable city. People scheduled sessions with him months out because he knew money management and had a unique vision for how to protect and grow accounts. “I will definitely take you up on that option. I may have already put together a small budget for your perusal. Was just waiting for this conversation to hit send.”

I descended the four short steps of the ladder first and waited at the bottom, accepting the crutch he handed off so he could climb down easier, a system we didn’t even have to speak about, it was so second nature.

“Well, hit send already,” he said, reclaiming the crutch. “We’re not getting any younger. Speaking of old things, are we going to the Chaplin marathon next weekend? I need a popcorn slash sticky floor fix.”

“I can’t. There’s a seminar in Charleston for new rental hosts. It covers a lot of the basics, and I thought I might make it a weekend in the city. Want to come? Say yes. I can promise espresso martinis and gentle galivanting. We can even find a western bar so you can cowboy flirt.”

His eyes lit up with delight. “Cowboys are such trouble.”

“You tell me daily.”

He thought on it. I could already predict his reservations. “Not keen on passing up a good galivant-cowboy gaze session, but…” Jonathan hesitated. As much fun as he could be, he was also cautious about being away from his built-in remedies should his arthritis flare. As someone who lived with chronic pain, some of it quite debilitating, he had to plan well in advance for the worst and be ready to sideline himself. He didn’t like to stray too far from home. “I think I’m gonna let you grab all the big-city fun for both of us. Have an extra martini in my honor.” The light behind his eyes had dimmed slightly, a reminder of his limitations.Ah, fuck. I didn’t care for this at all. My chest squeezed uncomfortably. Jonathan came with an adventurous heart and less than cooperative body. It didn’t seem fair.

I sighed but, of course, understood. “Are you sure? There might be a very handsome man in Charleston looking for a cute, numbers-minded man from a small town.”

“From your bare lips.”

“Who needs lip gloss for attic sorting?”

He exhaled, seeming to hang on to the daydream an extra beat. “Even so, the Charleston Man may need to come to me.”

“Fair enough, Jon-Bon.” That old high school nickname would never get old. I slung an arm around his shoulders and kissed his cheek with a smack, which inspired a blush. He wasn’t the most touchy-feely guy, but I forced him to indulge me once every few months. He needed the practice. “Until then, you’re stuck with me. For I’m a lonely sap.”

“You’re apickysap,” he corrected. “You get hit on way more than me on dating apps. I’m jealous with an extra shot of jealous. But I’m never speaking about it again because I hate giving compliments. There.”

I stood taller. “I accept your jealousy and would like to thank the academy of queer women for their online attention.” I shrugged, considering why I never seemed to connect with any of them. “I just want to make sure that I’m investing my time in the right person. That’s all.” And, yes, I could admit to having a more discerning palate when it came to women I’d consider dating. Too important not to.

Jonathan frowned. “Right. And what exactly would make her most worthy of your person? I mean, this week.”

“Smart, driven, funny, and attractive, at least to me.” I waved four fingers. “Those are the ones.”

“The quadfecta,” he said.

“That’s a word?”

Scorn rippled off him. His signature. “It’s like your father wasn’t a compulsive gambler who took you to the track on his weekends.”

“Well, I love the word. Thank you for the introduction.”

He walked slowly toward the living room, the crutch moving in time with his right leg. “The quad is a good list. And I believe you’re gonna find her one day, Savvy, and have a glorious ride off into the sunset. Maybe there’ll be some lip gloss there waiting for you. But I’m going to need you to keep your mind open and flirt a little more. Sway your hips. Toss your hair like you own the room and find everything downright funny. Women like that.”

“Do they, though? I’ve decided that I’m not sure what women like.” I scoffed, my own signature, and led the way into the dim, dormant kitchen. Memories from the past played out all around me like an old film reel. The nostalgia grabbed me by my throat and squeezed, stealing my focus. I used to lounge on top of that kitchen counter,chatting away about the girls I admired—translation: crushed on—while Lindy layered her amazing chicken lasagna with the precision of a renaissance sculptor.

“I flirt,” I said quietly, attempting to pull myself back into the conversation, an anchor to the here and now.

“You think you flirt.” Jonathan placed the crutch against the counter and a hand on his hip. “But you refuse to fully commit to the act because it means you’ll be vulnerable to whatever comes back. You’re good at eye contact. But I have the unfortunate job of informing you that that’s about it.”

“I’m wounded and won’t recover,” I said flatly, turning to him, fully involved now. I sighed, giving in. “Fine. What am I doing wrong? Prove your expert status.”

“Iaman expert because I’m a noteworthy observer of people. The successful flirtersdomore. You have to give signals. Hold that eye contact you’re so good at for longer than necessary. Laugh more openly. Like this.” He demonstrated an enthusiastic feminine giggle I would never attempt, nor should anyone. “Oh, and shoulder bumping is big. I’ve watched women do that often.” He bumped mine. “To be playful. To bond. To stir up a little heat.”

“I flirt in my own way, okay? I just don’t feel compelled to do so unless I’m interested, and that hasn’t happened in a long time.”

---