“Yeah, but Hot Guy came charging to your rescue like a knight in shining armor.” Liz propped one booted foot on the rail. “I bet he likes you.”
“Likes me?” Fiona scoffed. “The man barely knows me. He was just mad about the noise, nothing more.”
“He wouldn’t have given you his number if he was only concerned about the noise.” Liz swirled the wine in her glass. “Twenty bucks says he wants to strip you naked and lick you like a lollipop. Have you called him?”
It took a few seconds for the question to sink in, because her brain was stuck on the naked lollipop licking. “Why would I?”
“Um, because he’s hot? I think that’s reason enough.”
Fiona’s phone buzzed to signal a new call. Much to her relief, it wasn’t Dennis. But it wasn’t a number she recognized, so she sent the call to voicemail and set the phone back on the tiny table between the chairs. “He said to call if Dennis came back. That’s a pretty narrow parameter.”
“That might be what he said, but I doubt that’s what he meant. Just send him a text thanking him for the assist.” Liz sipped her wine. “Or better yet, bring him a batch of your double fudge brownies. One bite and he’ll be putty in your hands.”
“You’ve seen the man. With a body like that, I doubt he pollutes it with brownies.” To have a rock-hard body like that, he probably maintained a strict diet of tofu and tree bark, in addition to all that running and whatever else he did for exercise.
And although she understood the importance of a balanced diet and exercise, she’d come to terms with the fact she’d never have the figure of a fitness model. A body like that required ridiculous amounts of hard work and discipline, and there was no way in hell she’d give up brownies. Or wine. Or pizza. Or a million other things that were simply too delicious to live without.
“Then consider it a litmus test. If he doesn’t eat brownies, he’s simply not worth your time.” Liz set her glass on the table, picked up Fiona’s phone, and swiped at the screen.
“What are you doing?” A sense of unease slid down Fiona’s spine.
After a few more swipes, Liz started to type. “Sending Hot Guy a text.”
“No!” In a panic, Fiona grabbed for the phone, but Liz held it out of reach.
She tapped feverishly at the screen and then hit the Send button with an exaggerated flourish.
“There. Now we wait.” Liz looked like the proverbial cat that just ate the canary. “Good thing you only have one Joe in your contacts. Otherwise, I might have sent it to the wrong guy, and wouldn’t that be embarrassing?”
Fiona stared at the phone as though it might sprout teeth and bite her. “Dare I ask what you sent him?”
“Oh, come on, when have I ever steered you wrong?” Her friend smiled sweetly. “I thanked him for his help last night and asked if he’d like to come up for a game of naked Twister.”
Spots danced in front of Fiona’s eyes. She could feel the blood draining from her face. This was worse than the time when Liz gave her number to that guy with no chin at the bar. Seriously, it was like he just had a slope from his mouth to his neck. “Please tell me you’re joking. Otherwise, I’ll have to find a suitable lake to dump your body.”
That got a laugh out of Liz. “Relax, I’m just jerking your chain.” She held out the phone. “Here, see for yourself.”
Fiona snatched the phone from Liz’s grip. As she read the message, relief nearly knocked the wind right out of her. There was nothing lewd in the text, a departure for Liz, just a brief message thanking him once again for his help last night with Dennis.
“I appreciate you keeping it G-rated.” And grammatically correct, without any of the shorthand commonly found in text messages. It actually read like something she’d type, because her teacher brain refused to send anything that read as though it were written by a teenager.
Liz raised her glass in a mock toast. “I aim to please.”
The breeze kicked up, ruffling Fiona’s hair as she set the phone back on the table. After months of scorching summer heat, it felt good not to sweat. The guy on the news said a winter storm was heading their way. If that actually happened, temperatures might dip low enough to make it feel like Christmastime, at least by Florida standards. Folks from up north might still find it balmy, but true Floridians broke out the winter gear when thermometers dipped below seventy.
Little by little, the stress of the day drained from her system, and she sipped her wine as she watched a middle-aged woman walk her dog on the path below. The short-haired terrier stopped every few feet to mark a tree, or a bush, or any other upright object. Only three more days until winter break, and then she’d be off until after New Year. Plenty of time to rest and recharge.
Her phone chimed with Dennis’s ringtone again, and the stress snapped back into place. Why couldn’t he just leave her alone? With a sigh, she picked up the phone.
“Don’t answer that,” Liz said.
“I didn’t intend to.” She sent the call to voicemail, but before she could set the phone down again, it buzzed to signal an incoming text.
Liz’s gaze slid to the phone. “Bet you a dollar it’s Hot Guy.”
“His name’s Joe.” If they kept calling him Hot Guy, one day she’d slip up and call him Hot Guy to his face, and then she’d have to move. Or change her name. Maybe both. Just thinking about it made her heart skip a beat.
Fiona swiped at the screen. Sure enough, it was a response from Joe, and she barely suppressed the urge to smile as she read the message.
