“I don’t think that would be enough for Lacey.”
“Who said it has to be Lacey?” Jack laughed at the withering look he received from Mick. “Dude, you’ve really got to lighten up.”
“Okay. Maybe a group date. But no uniform. Too obvious. Next week sometime?”
“Tonight. Seems more casual to call last minute.”
***
Lacey eyed the ripe pimple on her forehead and ached to squeeze the life out of it, wondering if the urge to pop zits was somehow coded into her DNA.
Sometimes it was good to spend a Saturday night dateless. Of course, she hadn’t given herself many options lately.
Her cell phone rang. “Hello?”
“Hey, Lacey. It’s Mick. How are you?”
Just like that, her body reacted to the sound of his voice. It was almost embarrassing. “Oh, hey, Mick. I’m fine. How are you?”
“We’ve got some visiting Admirals. It’s been pretty hectic. Jack and I were headed down to O’Toole’s to detox with a beer. Wasn’t sure if you and your housemates might want to join us.”
Lacey swallowed. Hard. She really didn’t think she could handle another evening in his presence without her resolve crumbling. “Oh, thanks, but I’m not really sure what Maeve and Bess are up to tonight.” That’s good, Lacey thought proudly. Blame your friends.
As if on cue, Maeve peeked in through her bedroom door. “Did I hear my name?”
“It’s Mick. He’s wondering if we wanted to join him and a friend at O’Toole’s tonight.” Lacey shook her head furiously, making it obvious she did not want to go.
Maeve grinned and replied loudly enough to be heard on the other end of the phone. “Count us in, Mick! We’ll be there in an hour.”
Lacey sent Maeve a skewering glare. “Did you hear her?”
“Yeah. Is that Bess?”
“No, that’s Maeve.”
“Tell her an hour’s great with us.”
“Okay. See you there.” Lacey hung up, looking again at the zit on her forehead. At least he wouldn’t have a hard time being just friends with her looking like this. “Why did you do that, Maeve? Couldn’t you see me shaking my head no?”
“Was that what that was?” Maeve asked with feigned innocence. “I just thought you were shaking your head at the idea of being alone…again…on a Saturday night.”
Lacey pouted.
“Oh, come on, Lacey. You need to get out. Besides, I really want to get a better look at this guy.” Without waiting for a reply, Maeve marched down the hall to Bess’s room.
***
When Maeve stepped into O’Toole’s, heads turned. There was simply something about her that drew the eye. Her hair was perfect. Her nails were perfect. Her outfit made her look like she had just stepped off the pages of Vogue. In a perpetually casual city like Annapolis, it defied the rules to wear anything dressier than jeans. But Maeve always dressed a step above the rest, this evening in her favorite Michael Kors ensemble with subtle, yet glimmering accessories.
Lacey personified dull standing beside her in her capri jeans and T-shirt. She looked down at her flip-flops and cursed herself for not at least borrowing some heels from Maeve. But that would give the wrong impression, she consoled herself. If Mick was okay with just being her friend, he better get used to the sight of her in flip-flops.
Bess trailed them reluctantly. Sullen after being awakened from a nap, she seemed to go out of her way to fade into the woodwork. Her baseball cap covered her gorgeous mop of red hair and she hadn’t even bothered putting on one swipe of lipstick.
Given the choice, Lacey thought it wiser to sit on Bess’s side of the table rather than next to Maeve.
Lacey smiled encouragingly at Bess. “You look great. You really put yourself together fast. I envy that.”
Bess looked at her in disbelief. “What are you, blind?”
Lacey turned her attention to Maeve. “And you look fantastic, but that goes without saying.” She paused, hoping someone might send a hint of a compliment her way. Her ego was sadly depleted tonight, especially with Mount St. Helens poised to erupt on her forehead at any moment.
Maeve just looked down at Lacey’s feet and shook her head. “Here,” she said in disapproval as she reached down to her heels. “Trade.”
“No, I couldn’t.”
“Yes, you could. Aren’t they sassy? I got them on a little shoe shopping detour when I was on a buying trip in New York.”
Slipping Maeve’s shoes on, Lacey immediately felt better.
Satisfied, Maeve smiled. “Now I can say it. You look great, too, and fabulous choice in shoes, Lacey. And you,” she paused, eyeing Bess, “are a sport for coming. Sorry I dragged you out of bed. First round’s on me. What do you want?”