Page 25 of Home Body
“Thanks. Hey, what do you hear from that rambunctious daughter of yours? How are she and Jessa doing in Mexico?”
Llayne smiled. “Last I knew, they were thinking of becoming beach bums. They love it.” She got into her car, rested her arm on the sill of the open window, and said, “You know, don’t you, that I’ve fallen in love with your rambunctious daughter. You’re a wonderful mother, Dalia.” She started the car, waved, and drove away.
Dalia stood there staring down the long, dirt driveway as their new friend turned onto the county road and disappeared. Llayne had said, “looking for their biological parents.” That conundrum had been churning in her mind ever since leaving the nursing home.
If Agnes Singleton wasn’t her mother, who was?
CHAPTER 17
“Hey, pretty ladies, how’s it goin’?”
Kenyon and Jessa turned to get a gander at the dude who’d sidled in-between their barstools to ask his question. True, he was gorgeous. Buff body. Natty shorts. Torso-hugging tee shirt. Tan. Movie-star brunette hair. Perfect teeth. Kenyon immediately wondered how much those pearly whites had cost.
“Can I buy you girls something more to drink?” he pressed on in a bratty staccato American accent.
Kenyon could have sworn he puffed up his chest as he said that, like a peacock making sure to be seen in all its glory.
The women looked at one another, a silent message passing between them.
“No thanks,” Kenyon said, pointing at their fresh strawberry piña colada daiquiris. “We’re fine.”
They turned back to their drinks. He didn’t move, irritating the hell out of Kenyon.
“Aw, come on. One more drink won’t hurt,” he insisted.
“We said ‘no’,” Jessa reminded him.
Not to be rebuffed – his fragile, overblown ego out of control now – he refused to cease and desist. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m…”
He cut off Kenyon with, “I’m a nice guy, I promise.”
“You didn’t let me finish…” she tried again.
“In fact,” he interrupted, “I have a friend who could join us for a nice foursome.”
“Dude!” The bartender cut in. “Go away. The ladies don’t want to talk to you.”
The “dude” scoffed, his face flushing with anger. “Fine. Shit. Just trying to be friendly here.” He skulked away.
“Thanks, Bart.” Kenyon read off his name tag and offered a hand to the bartender. They shook. Jessa did the same.
“He’s been like that all week with every woman who comes in.” Tall, thin, and blond, with a relaxed American accent, Bart shook his head. “Some guys just don’t get it that not all women want to be honored with the glory of their domineering presence.”
“We were just talking about that very thing yesterday while lounging at the pool,” Jessa said. She ate the strawberry that floated on top of her drink then took a big slurp through the stripy straw.
They’d put on their beach coverups after swimming in the ocean and come into the bar, which wasn’t busy this time of day. Jessa had talked Kenyon into having an alcoholic beverage for a change.
“I promise one drink won’t get you drunk,” Jessa insisted.
“It better not,” Kenyon snarked. “I don’t ever want to do that again. Once, the night before my wedding – well, you know, my wedding-funeral – that one night was enough sloppy, mindless, falling down drunkenness to last me forever.”
They’d been happily chilling out, sipping on their drinks that promised not to get them drunk, until so rudely being interrupted.
“Tell me, please,” Bart said now that the intruder was gone, “what would it look like for a guy to get your attention in a good way? Not like that.” He gestured toward the door where the dude had stormed out. “Let’s say you’re in a bar in the evening and a guy wants your attention. What should he do?”
“Let’s see,” Jessa said. “For me it would have to be subtle, romantic, or funny in a good way.”
