Page 4 of More Than Pen Pals

“Nope. Next time we do lunch it’ll be all about me. Stop stalling and tell me about yourself. Were you born in Arkansas?”

“I was born in Missouri,” I explain, “but we moved to Arkansas before I turned two. My parents met in college and then moved to Arkansas after they graduated to be near my mom’s family. My dad is from Missouri.”

“Are you close to your family?”

“As close as you can be when you live hundreds of miles apart. I have a twin brother named Shannon who lives in Little Rock. My little sister is a freshman in college in Oklahoma. And my parents are still in my hometown about thirty miles outside Little Rock.”

“Ooh! What’s it like having a twin?”

“We’re not those kinds of twins who finish each other’s sentences or anything. When we were little, we were inseparable, but since we’re boy-girl twins, as we got older, we drifted apart a little.”

“Is he cute?”

“Who?”

“Your brother. Is he as attractive as you are?” She circles her finger in front of my face.

“Um, I don’t know how to answer that question.”

“Sure you do. Is Shannon handsome?”

Wendy isn’t going to give up, so I admit, “I guess so.”

“Do you have a picture of him?”

“I have lots of pictures of him, but not with me. I don’t carry my brother’s photo around in my wallet. Why do you care what he looks like?”

“You didn’t mention him having a wife, so I’m trying to determine if I should add him to my list of possibilities.”

I roll my eyes. I’ve not known anyone as boy crazy as Wendy since high school. “As I said, he lives in Little Rock. He’s not a candidate for your list.”

Wendy suddenly sits up straight and fluffs up her hair. “Speaking of my list,” she murmurs, while smiling like the Cheshire cat.

I try not to grimace at her manic expression, and I twist in my seat to spot who she’s focused on, since she didn’t finish her statement.

“No,” she hisses. “Don’t turn around.”

I swivel back toward her. “Ooookay.”

She gives a little finger wave to someone beyond me, her weird smile still plastered in place. I can’t resist looking again to see who could turn this normally confident woman into a mass of nerves. My gaze lands on a man being seated a few tables away. He’s tall—at least six-five—with dark brown hair. His charcoal gray suit is perfectly fitted to his athletic frame. No off-the-rack business attire for this guy. I only have a profile view of his face, but I can tell he’s handsome. He also looks familiar, though I can’t imagine I know him since I’m new to the city.

“I told you not to turn around,” Wendy says.

I face her again. “Sorry. Is it the tall guy back there?” I jerk my head in his direction.

“Yes.”

“Tell me about him.” I smile. “You know you’re dying to.”

Her face finally returns to normal, and then her expression turns dreamy. “His name is at the top of my list. He’s a lawyer at the firm in the building around the corner from ours. You know: Murphy, Hamilton, and Walker?”

I shrug. “Nope. Don’t know it.”

“His dad is one of the partners there.” She speaks to me, but she focuses on the man behind me. “He graduated from Harvard Law a couple years ago and came back to work for the family business. He’s a bit grumpy, but I know there’s a happy soul inside there waiting to burst out—with the help of the right woman, of course.”

“And you think you’re the right woman?” I take a bite of lasagna.

“Oh, I am most definitely the woman for Ash Hamilton.”

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