Page 2 of Five Minute Man
Chapter 2
While waiting for theserver to take their order, Holly told her friend Liz about the “five-minute man,” as she had dubbed him in her own mind. They were at their weekly dinner—Holly’s only consistent, voluntary socialization. Liz didn’t find it nearly as funny as she had.
“You don’t actually believe that kind of stuff is possible, do you?” Holly accused when she saw that faraway, dreamy look Liz sometimes got in her eye when they talked about some of Holly’s storylines. Liz was the best sounding boardever.
Liz twirled the stem of her wineglass between perfectly manicured, blood-red nails while she considered her answer. One thing about Liz: she was one of the few people Holly knew who really cared about whatever came out of her own mouth. If she said it, she meant it. The fact that she wasn’t saying anything now spoke volumes.
“Jeez,” Holly murmured when the response was taking longer than it should have. She took a sip of her unsweetened tea, scowling as the tip of the decorative lemon slice pushed up her left nostril. “Haveyouever had one?”
“No,” Liz finally answered. Like the good friend she was, she snatched the lemon from Holly’s glass and relegated the offending slice to time-out on the bread plate, which remained empty for them both, given the insidious evil of carbs after six p.m. Liz’s unsweetened red wine didn’t count since it was listed as a nightly staple on her latest “sugar equals Satan” diet, which was yet another reason Holly continued to see Liz on a regular basis—she was no natural Skinny-Minnie, either. “But I’d like to think it is possible. That there is some man out there capable of making me feel that way, pushing all the right buttons inside and out. I would think, with all the steamy stuff you write in your stories, that you’d believe in something like that, too.”
Holly scoffed. “That right there is exactlywhyI write those stories. Because if I didn’t, there’d be no sex worth talking about in my life at all.”
Liz giggled and covered her mouth.
Holly closed her eyes and let the blush wash over her. “Our waiter is right behind me, isn’t he?” Not just any waiter, either, but a totally hot, college-age cutie with big brown eyes and an ass they had both been discreetly ogling all night.
Liz nodded.
“Is he smiling or beating feet with a horrified look on his face?”
Liz’s eyes, the only part of her face not covered by her hand, flicked over Holly’s shoulder. “He’s definitely smiling.” The words came out slightly muffled.
Holly exhaled. Today was just not her day.
She took a deep, fortifying breath and addressed the young stud. “I won’t be having dinner, after all,” she said wryly. “Turns out that the foot in my mouth is actually pretty filling.”
Their waiter, whose name tag readBrandon, – gave her a hundred-watt smile that probably got into more coed panties thanStayfree. He leaned a bit closer, lowering his voice. “For what it’s worth, I think you’re pretty hot for an older woman.”
Holly hid her mortification behind a polished smile she had perfected around age eleven when puberty took a noticeable hold. “I’m flattered, Brandon,” she said, lowering her voice as he had his. “With charm like that, you’re going to be chasing them away someday. You know, when you’re old enough to shave.”
Liz turned away, hiding her laughter.
After a brief moment of widened eyes, Brandon laughed, too. “You’re all right. And just for the record”—he leaned down farther and winked—“I use my dad’s electric shaver twice a week now.”
Holly couldn’t help it. She laughed. The kid was just too damn cute for his own good.
Two hours later, while clearing away the remains of grilled chicken and veggie entrees, Brandon picked up the best cash tip he’d had all month.
