CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER SEVEN

HE COULDN’T SAY IT WAS THE REACTION HE’D EXPECTED, BUT WITH Laurel that was often the case.

“Damn me for what, exactly?”

“Because it’s exactly the right thing to say.You’re good at saying exactly the right thing, except when you say the completely wrong thing. But it’s usually the right thing anyway, just that I didn’t want to hear it.”

“You should’ve been a lawyer.”

“I’m eating another pot sticker,” she muttered.

She’d always delighted him, he thought, except when she’d irritated him. It was probably the same thing.

“Do you remember when we were all over at Emma’s parents’ for Cinco de Mayo?”

“Of course I remember.” She scowled at her beer. “I had too much tequila, which is only natural under the circumstances because, hello, Cinco de Mayo.”

“I think that’s hola.”

“Har-har. You played big brother and sat with me on the front porch steps.”

“It’s not playing big brother to have some mild concern for a friend in a tequila haze. But anyway.” He scooped some sweet-and-sour onto her plate with his chopsticks. “Earlier Jack and I were standing around, and I was scoping the crowd, the way you do.”

“The way you do.”

“Okay. I spot this blue dress with a great pair of legs and ...” He made a vague gesture that gave her a clear picture of the and. “I thought, nice, very nice indeed, and made some mention of same to Jack. He pointed out that the legs and the rest I happened to be scoping were yours. It gave me a hell of a jolt, I admit.” He gauged her reaction, judged surprise led the way. “In the interest of full disclosure, I also admit it wasn’t the first time. So whether or not it was the right thing to say, it was accurate.”

“I’m not a pair of legs, or an and.”

“No, but they’re still very nice.You’re a beautiful woman.That’s also accurate. Some have a weakness for pot stickers, some for beautiful women.”

She looked past him, toward the deepening shadows. “That should piss me off.”

“You’re also one of my oldest and most important friends.” Teasing no longer colored his tone. “That matters, a lot.”

“It does.” She pushed her plate away before she made herself sick.

“I think it’s also accurate to say something unexpected, or at least surprising, hit when you acted on impulse the other night.”

As dusk thickened, his garden and patio lights sent out a soft glow, and in the distance a loon’s eerie wail echoed. It struck him as oddly romantic, and somehow suitable.

“You’re being awfully delicate about it.”

“Well, it’s a first date,” he said and made her laugh.