“Yummy. Can’t wait.” Liv gave her a weak smile and stifled a yawn. “Seriously, Sophie, I’m just tired. I stayed up a little too late reading.”
Sophia shot her a skeptical look. “Right. And that’s why you look like one of my first graders who’s just been sent to the principal’s office.” She taught at an affluent private school in South Tampa that catered to the wealthy and gifted children of the city and she absolutely loved her job. Since it was summer, however, she had three months off to pursue her other love—art.
Liv knew Sophia was itching to go paint and was probably only hanging around the kitchen making blueberry pancakes because she was worried about her twin. She opened her mouth to protest that she was fine again when a rat-a-tat-tat sounded at their front door.
“Coming!” Sophia beat her to the door and opened it to the beaming face of Katrina O’Connor, their mutual friend since high school. As Sophia ushered Kat inside, Liv shook herself mentally. It was time she stopped letting these silly dreams affect her so much. She was Olivia Waterhouse and she wasn’t afraid of anything.
Despite being compassionate Liv was no pushover. She had worked her way through nursing school and always stood up for herself, even to the crankiest doctors who could verbally eviscerate anyone with a sarcastic word or two. She went car shopping and to the mechanic by herself and never got screwed over. And most importantly, she never took no for an answer—when she really wanted something, she went for it. So why was she letting a stupid dream put a crimp in her personal style?
Time to get over it, girl, she lectured herself sternly. It’s just a dream and he’s not real. Let it go and enjoy your pancakes. It’s a beautiful Saturday—anything could happen. But rather than cheering her up, the thought sent a shiver down her spine. That’s right anything could happen…anything at all.
“What’s your deal, Liv? You look like you saw a ghost.” Kat’s cheery voice broke her morbid train of thought and Liv looked up and tried to smile.
“Hey, Kat-woman. Heard you were bringing some blueberries.”
“Did better than that.” Kat put a large recycled cloth shopping bag on the round kitchen table and started pulling things out of it, like a magician pulling rabbits out of a hat. “Eggs, butter, ham, chives…” She stopped to push a wisp of auburn hair behind her ear before continuing. “Some fresh shitake mushrooms, goat cheese—”
“Whoa—whoa!” Liv was startled into laughing. “What the hell kind of pancakes are we making here, anyway?”
“Not pancakes—quiche. I saw this new recipe last night on Food Network—”
Liv and Sophia both groaned aloud at this, cutting her off. Kat was a paralegal at Linden and James downtown but she had always had grand aspirations when it came to cooking. Unfortunately, she didn’t like to follow a recipe so most of her culinary creations landed in the trash—a fact that didn’t discourage her in the least when it came to trying something new. Especially if she was working in someone else’s kitchen and didn’t have to worry about cleaning up the mess afterwards.
“Tell me something, Kat,” Sophia demanded. “Exactly how much of that stuff in the bag does the recipe call for?”
“And how much is your own addition?” Liv finished her twin’s thought effortlessly.
“Come on, you guys.” Kat pouted unconvincingly. “This one is going to be good, I can tell. And just because it doesn’t actually call for sardines and black olives doesn’t mean they won’t be good in there.”
“Black olives?” Sophia made a face.
“And sardines? Yuck! Are you making a quiche or an everything pizza?” Liv crossed her arms over her chest.
Kat noticed the gesture and grinned. “Ooo, nice nighty, Liv. Did we have a nocturnal visitor last night?”
Liv opened her mouth but Sophia beat her to it. “No one besides her dream man—whoever he is.”
“I didn’t dream about him last night,” Liv lied defensively. “And I wore this because I happen to like it—it’s comfortable.” In contrast to Sophie’s Sesame Street pjs and Kat’s sensible t-shirt and shorts, she had on her lacy black baby doll nighty. It was the one her ex fiancé, Mitch had given her and it had a short black robe and panties that matched.
Liv wasn’t wearing the set because she missed the jerk—she’d really dodged a bullet when she gave him back his ring and told him to hit the road. It was more a case of not letting something so nice go to waste. Mitch may have been a cheating bastard but he had good taste in underwear—underwear for her, anyway. He’d worn tighty-whities himself. Liv had always struggled not to laugh when he strutted around the house in them, thinking he looked so hot.