Page 62 of Let It Breathe
Reese squeezed her eyes shut and gritted her teeth. “I was talking to my cousin. I mean—never mind. I’ll see you at seven.”
Reese hung up the phone and set down her letter opener, not sure whether to kill her cousin or herself.
“You have a date!” Larissa squealed.
Reese shook her head. “No. You don’t get to dress me this time.”
“Please? No front-clasp bras, I promise.”
“Larissa—”
“I’ll be good, I swear. Pretty please?”
Reese sighed. “Fine. But nothing slutty, okay?”
“Your version of slutty or mine?”
Reese stared at her.
“Fine,” Larissa said, rolling her eyes. “Nothing slutty. I can do that. I can do your hair, too, right?”
Reese smiled in spite of herself. “Sure. You can do my hair. You want to come to my place, or should I come to yours?”
“Yours,” she said. “I have a date tonight with this new guy, but I’m afraid Joey might try to stop by my place to see me again.”
“How the hell do you manage this?” Reese asked. “Seriously, I get hives just thinking about the one date.”
Larissa beamed. “It’s talent.”
“It’s something, all right.”
“This will be fun,” Larissa said. “Don’t you feel better now that you’re dating again?”
“I’d hardly call the thing with Bob the Boob-man a date. More like a visual assault.”
“Good point.” Larissa shrugged. “Okay, so Bob is out. Really, you can’t rely on your ex-husband to set you up with a quality man. I have a good feeling about this vet guy, though.”
“You’ve never met him.”
“No, but he came to rescue Leon, didn’t he? Must be a nice guy.”
“He’s a recovering drunk.” The second the words left her mouth, Reese felt a rush of shame. Still, it was something she couldn’t overlook. “I mean, I assume he’s an alcoholic. Clay found him through AA.”
Larissa stared, her smile fading into something a bit darker. She folded her arms over her chest. “Since when did you get to be a judgmental snob about that?”
Reese reached for her letter opener, then stopped. She pressed her palms against the desk, weighing her words. “Look, I just think it would be irresponsible for someone who makes a living hawking alcohol to get involved with someone who nearly ruined his own life drinking it.”
“We still talking about the vet here?”
Reese looked down at her hands. “I need to get out in the field to check the nitrate levels. You okay with coming over around five?”
“Sure,” Larissa said, standing up and striding toward the door. “But don’t think I didn’t notice you failed to answer that question.”
Reese sighed but couldn’t think of a clever comeback before Larissa had disappeared down the hall. She finished editing the newsletter and printed a copy while she dialed her mom’s phone.
“Hey, honey,” June answered in a chirpy voice. “What’s up?”
“Larissa and I just finished up the e-newsletter. She also put together a little direct-mail piece for the wine club to explain the whole wine-down-the-drain thing.”
