Page 51 of Make Mine Sweet
“Interesting response.” Now she’s blushing, which is even more interesting.
“It’s, uh…” She shakes her head, hands raised. “I’m not getting into it. Just don’t use it.”
“Is this like the m-word?” That’s Iris’s big ick. Doesn’t matter the context, anyone who says it gets a smack. When Tess looks at me blankly, I whisper, “Moist.”
She cackles, and at least half of it is a squeal, but it might be the best sound I’ve ever heard. It’s open and spontaneous and entirely her.
“Yes. It’s exactly like that. Absolutely forbidden.”
“I’ll be sure to avoid it.”
We both settle down again, our attention turning to the shenanigans going on in the grass. August is trying to get Dutch to fetch a stick, but he’s too addicted to tennis balls to understand the intent. August goes so far as to put the stick in his own mouth to demonstrate, but Dutch remains mystified.
Tess leans forward like she’s going to intervene, but relaxes again. “It probably can’t do much harm, can it? How many germs can one stick have?”
I know better now than to point out we have no idea where the stick has been.
“I’m sorry about his diabetes. I didn’t realize.”
She lifts a shoulder. “It was scary at first, and it was a steep learning curve, but we’ve got it under control now. The monitor and pump were a game-changer.”
“That’s good.” Still must be a constant source of stress for her.
“But if I never see the inside of a hospital again, I’ll be a happy camper.”
“Same.”
“Is your accident why you came out here? To…rest and recover?”
She sounds so hopeful, even though she must suspect the truth. She’s seen enough of me since she moved in to know I’m doing neither.
I came out here to avoid my problems and hope a solution magically appeared. Add in some feeling sorry for myself and a dash of wishing for a time machine, and you’ve just about got the whole of my three months in Sunshine.
But now…wallowing doesn’t have the appeal it once did.
“I’m here for the views.” I hold Tess’s gaze long enough for a blush to creep over her cheeks again.
Best color I’ve ever seen.
SEVENTEEN
TESS
Sometimes you just need a spontaneous girls’night. My friend, Lila, returned from her week-long hike this afternoon, so Wren and Hope wrangled her into an evening out to help her decompress. Get some real food in her after a week of trail mix and granola bars. But mostly, they want to hear all the juicy gossip about her new boyfriend.
Wren and I were both a little shocked when Helena Parrish, Lila and Hope’s mother, came in this afternoon to casually drop that bit of info. Actually, nothing about her gossip was casual—she grinned so wide you’d think she was the one with the new man.
Mom, incidentally, stayed mum about her own new man. Typical.
The four of us slide into a booth at Delish, and Amy passes out menus, smiling over our girls’ night like she has since we were teens.
She starts to leave us to consider our options—as though we don’t know exactly what we’re going to order—but stops next to me. “Is everything going all right over at the duplex? Ian’s not giving you a hard time, is he?”
I’d meant to at least check in with her and let her know August and I are enjoying the apartment—and befriending our recluse—but I haven’t found the time to stop by. And I really don’t want to discuss Ian with three sets of attentive ears here to latch onto everything I might say about him.
“My nephew’s been prickly lately, but if he’s extending that to you, I’ll talk to him.” Amy’s a sweetheart, but I have no doubt she would stand up for me with Ian if I asked.
A week ago, I might have answered differently, but now, I don’t need her running interference.
