I pulled a Yankee’s T-shirt over my head, stepped into a pair of jeans and tied my hair back in a ponytail.
Standing in front of the mirror, I stared intently at the woman who stared back at me. Although we looked alike, that was where the resemblance ended. I was cautious and she was confident. I was pragmatic and she was carefree. I knew he wanted me—and she knew she wanted him.
The line between good girls and bad girls was very fine, but very well defined. It was a line I was always careful not to cross, but I had never in my life wanted anything as much as I wanted to be the girl in the mirror.
Sixteen
...Just knowing that he was on the other side of the door was enough to send a chill up my back that would take more than a soak in warm water to eliminate...
I didn’t bring much to the conversation during lunch. He did most of the talking while I did most of the watching. I watched him move around the kitchen confidently, fluidly, exaggerating his well-muscled body. I was careful to cast my eyes away each time his head turned in my direction. I even took my hair out of its ponytail so that it fell like a curtain in front of my eyes, keeping them partially hidden from his view.
“I’ve gone through the house. There’s no phone, there’s no vehicle in the garage and would you believe, there’s no cable.” The corners of his mouth turned up slightly, as he added, “It looks like we’re going to have to find some other way to occupy our time until they decide to come back for us.”
I couldn’t tell if this was another attempt at humor or if he was being suggestive. I didn’t want to engage in open flirtation and give him the wrong idea, but I didn’t want to sound like a prude either.
“I’ve never been here before so I can’t suggest anything.” I looked around. “Did you see which road we took to get here?”
He shook his head apologetically. “I’m sorry, can’t say that I did.”
Our eyes locked for an uncomfortable moment, before he slapped his thigh with one hand, motioned to the door with the other and asked, “How about a walk?”
“In the rain?”
Holding out his right hand, he replied with a smile, “That would be romantic but... it’s not raining anymore.”
I took his outstretched hand, my eyes never leaving his. Standing next to him, I felt much smaller than five-foot-six. He shadowed me from every angle but somehow, I felt safety in his shadow.
He led me through the door and down the porch steps, never saying a word. I was beginning to think that the silence was making me more uncomfortable than anything I could have said. My mouth was open, but his words came out first.
“So I hear you’re the best pastry chef in Upper Darby?”
I laughed. “The best?” It suddenly occurred to me that I had no idea what the girls had revealed to him. “What else did they tell you?”
“Well, they didn’t exactly give away information. I inquired.”
Trying to appear casual, I said, “I may have heard that.”
He looked at me with one raised eyebrow, and continued, “You’re Meg Embry. You’re from Willoughby. You attended Kirkland, where you met Cory and Charlotte. You were much too good for the guy you just dumped and you’re the baker who puts the sweet in sweets.”
Thoroughly embarrassed, I let out a demure giggle. “I’m glad they didn’t exaggerate.”
“They told me general information only. I thought that anything personal should come from you.”
I was still grasping for something to say that wouldn’t scream school-girl-crush.
“I feel like I’m at a disadvantage here. I don’t even know you’re real name.”
“It’s Con, although I’m growing quite fond of Popeye.” He served his last statement with a smile that could melt the heart of the most cold-hearted man-hater.
I blushed and disregarded the Popeye remark. “Con, as in... Connelly, Connor, Conrad...”
“Connor. It’s my mother’s maiden name and the one name guaranteed to piss my grandfather off the most.”
“Ooh, family tensions?”
“My father’s father, oh yeah... you’d have to know old Jack. He’s quite a character and not accustomed to anyone, especially a woman, standing up to him. I think he finally met his match when he met my mother.”
His brief description painted a picture of a strong-willed, independent woman and I wondered if she was the one who inspired the confident aura that I found as sexy as the rest of his traits.
His complete frankness made it much easier for me to open up. He was being a good sport about our whole situation and I felt that I owed it to him to do the same, putting my discomfort aside as we made our way to the pond a few hundred yards away.