“I only said I like things personal.”
She opened her mouth to add something, then snapped it shut. If she had banter experience, she would have been more apt to have a fast comeback. As it was, she floundered, but quickly willed herself to regroup. “I cook for people in their homes.”
“I know what a personal chef is. Raul Nunez cooks for me sometimes.”
Lucy bit the inside of her lip. Who didn’t Raul cook for?
“Well, if you know of anyone who’d like my services, it would be great if you could mention my advertisement, which will be in this Wednesday’s newspaper, or the bulletin board here.”
His posture was casual, his fingers hooked loosely around the basket’s metal handle. “I can do that. What’s your specialty?”
The way he said it had her questioning his intentions. He was playing around with her now that the shark girlfriend wasn’t next to him! Lucy fought against rolling her eyes.
“I don’t have any one specialty,” she said, not taking his bait if he meant to lead her into any kind of sexual innuendo.
She was so rusty in this department, she wasn’t sure if she was coming or going. He knew the game and she didn’t have a clue to the rules. She didn’t like this.
He smiled and her heartbeat snagged. “Maybe I’ll have to tell Raul I’ve hired you.”
The prospect both excited and dismayed her. She needed the business, but… Working for this man would be a challenge at best. He was way too confident and laidback about his presence. He had to know good and well what effect he had on women. My goodness, she’d seen Opal practically jump out of her panty hose to please him with those biscuits.
A man like Drew got whatever he wanted. It was a given. He just had to smile and he received.
Lucy opted to let his suggestion go. If he were serious, he could give her a call.
“So are you divorced?” he asked, the question taking her by surprise. He didn’t stand on ceremony, and she wasn’t sure if she liked his approach or not.
“That obvious?”
“No wedding ring, but that doesn’t mean diddly these days.”
“Yes, I’m divorced. And you?” She hated that she asked, but the question was on the table before she could shelf it.
“Never married.”
Bad news. A man his age who’d never married wouldn’t know how to spell the word compromise.
Perhaps his lack of matrimonial commitment was what caused that blank expression that suddenly appeared on his face. Maybe. Maybe not. But he did seem a little bothered by the status or, at the very least, self-conscious about it.
His broad shoulders captured her attention when he shifted his stance again. “How old are your sons?”
“Twelve and sixteen.”
“Tryouts for summer Little League will be at the Park and Rec field by Wood Creek.”
“I’ll have them there.” She’d always been an advocate of sports for her boys, and thankfully, they enjoyed participating. It kept them out of trouble, for the most part, and centered their focus on a team activity.
“If he makes the cut, I’ll be coaching Jason’s team.”
“He’ll make it.” Lucy’s conviction was steady. “He’s good.”
Drew nodded. “When he registers for school, make sure you get him on the high school team, too. We practice before the fall semester starts, so he’ll have to be there in August.”
“How could I find out more information?”
Drew set the basket on the end display of gourmet coffee, reached for his wallet, then handed her a card. “Give me a call.”
An indecisive arch lifted Lucy’s brows. She didn’t call men, but she guessed she’d have to make an exception. For the boys. Only for the boys.
The card was straightforward. Bold. Masculine. The type set blocky.
Andrew Tolman
Little League Coach and H.S. Athletic
Director
Wood Ridge Team and Red Duck
School District
P. O. Box 935
Timberline, Idaho 83691
Cell: 208-555-9452
“Call me anytime. I’ll make sure you’re sent the paperwork to have him play for Timberline High.” Drew tossed his wallet back into the basket, then added, “I’ll need your phone number.”
Lucy blurted, “What for?” Images of an indignant Jacquie Santini scratching her eyes out came into Lucy’s mind, yet for some idiotic reason, she lost her head and wished he wanted her phone number to ask her out on a date. Stupid!
Drew gave her that crooked smile of his. “How can I refer clients to you if they can’t call you?”
Flustered, she changed her posture and took back control. She was being an idiot, and just as ridiculous as Opal and her fast breathing at the diner. Even knowing she’d momentarily lost her common sense, Lucy staved off an untimely blush.
She recited her cell number—which was a moot point. It was on her business card, which was on the grocery store bulletin board.
“Okay,” he replied.
“You don’t need to write it down?” She didn’t know why she asked him that. She told herself she wanted to make sure he got it right so she could get the referrals.
Biting back a groan, Lucy wanted to just crawl into one of the mussels and close the shell on herself. She was so out of practice in the art of male-and-female conversations, she called herself every kind of pathetic. Why was she letting this guy get to her? He was bad news.
“You think because I’m a jock I don’t have a memory?” he asked, but he did so with humor.
“Uh, no. I just…well, my memory’s not what it used to be the older I get. So I just…well, I’m sure you’ll remember it.”
“I’ll never forget it.”
The self-assured way in which he spoke evoked shivers through her that she prayed like crazy he wouldn’t notice.
“How old are you?” he asked, breaking through her musings.
Recovering, Lucy had no problem in this department. “Forty-five. And I’ve earned every wrinkle and dimple.”
And that was the God’s honest truth. She was proud of being forty-five, and actually, she thought she looked better at this age than when she’d been in her thirties. She
