Page 53
She looked good.
Not good for somebody whose ass was apparently expanding at an alarming rate, either. Just good. The dress hugged her waist, skimmed her hips, and showed enough cleavage to make it very clear she had not dressed for a staff meeting.
“Dale can choke on a protein shake,” she told her reflection. “We look hot tonight.”
She added earrings. Then she changed her earrings, then changed her necklace to go with the new earrings. She checked her lipstick one last time, then picked up her phone from the dresser and unlocked it. She read the last text message from Mac.
Leaving now.
Sent twenty-three minutes ago.
Jodie’s stomach fluttered.
They’d barely seen each other since Arden and Kyle’s. Mac had spent the week in Denver on another detail, which meant their newly discovered ability to kiss each other senseless had been put on hold and they were reduced to text messages and late-night phone calls once the principal was tucked safely in bed.
She heard the sound of Mac’s truck pull into her driveway.
“Oh, God.”
She looked at herself again. Nothing had changed in the last thirty seconds. Hair still good. Makeup still good. Breasts still exactly where she’d left them in the push-up bra.
You are not a teenager going to prom. Go let him in.
She spritzed on her perfume—an indie called “Georgia O’Keeffe” by Poesie—and slid into a cute pair of flats. She wasn’t about to risk heels.
The doorbell rang before she made it out of the bedroom.
“Coming!”
Excellent. Yell that at the man you haven’t had sex with yet. Very subtle.
Jodie grabbed her purse and headed to the door, resisting the urge to check herself in the hallway mirror on the way. When she got to the front door, she took a deep breath before opening it.
Mac stood smiling on her porch, holding a bouquet wrapped in brown craft paper and tied with twine. He wore dark slacks and a white dress shirt, open at the collar and fitted cleanly across his chest and shoulders. The sleeves were rolled to his forearms, and Jodie forgot the clever line she’d meant to say.
His gaze dropped from her face, traveled slowly down the dress, then came back up again.
He forgot to say hello. Looks like we’re on the same page.
Jodie smiled. “Fancy—”
“—meeting you here.” Mac grinned at her. Then he seemed to remember the flowers in his hand. He raised the bouquet.
“These are for you.”
“Oh, thank you. Please, come in and I’ll get a vase.” She stepped back and Mac walked through the doorway. She half-expected his shoulders to brush either side of the frame. She couldn’t believe he’d carried her into her house only a couple weeks ago.
And now he’s back, and he’s all mine.
“I guess you already know your way around,” she said, feeling a little jittery as she walked toward the kitchen. “I’ve got a vase in the—”
“Top shelf in the cupboard to the left of the sink. I saw it when I was looking for a glass.” Mac was right behind her.
“Exactly.” She opened the cabinet and Mac reached up and past her. He took the vase down and turned on the water. He filled the vase and set it on the counter while Jodie undid the twine and unrolled the paper sleeve.
“These are beautiful.” Instead of the roses she’d expected, the bouquet was composed of daisies, larkspur, stock, sweet williams, and Indian paintbrushes.
“I passed by a farmer’s stand on my way back from Denver and saw them. They grow the wildflowers themselves.”
