thong,” Mary Ann responded without hesitation.
That gave Penny a moment of pause. Then she chuckled. “Almost had me, but the thong gave you away. You’re cotton briefs, baby, all the way.”
And all that coverage was a bad thing? “Honestly, I don’t have everything planned. Not even I’m that anal.”
“You said anal.” Penny snickered. “Look, I’ve known you most of your life, and asking people about their feelings wasn’t always what Mary Contrary wanted to do when she grew up. She wanted to dance a ballet to a packed house, kiss whichever celebrity she was crushing on and tattoo her entire body with flowers so she’d look like a garden. You didn’t decide to become a shrink until after your mom—” Realizing she’d taken a wrong turn at Foot In Mouth Lane, she finished with, “You just didn’t!”
Slowly Mary Ann’s smile faded. Deep down, she wasn’t sure she could refute her friend’s claim. She had been a rambunctious girl at one time, giving her parents fits, talking and laughing too loudly, always desperate to be the center of attention and throwing tantrums when she didn’t get her way. Then her mom had died in a car accident. A car accident Mary Ann had been part of, as well. She’d spent three weeks recovering in the hospital. Her body had healed, yes, but not her soul.
Upon her release, the Gray household had fallen into a spiral of sadness, Mary Ann and her father whirling further and further away from the loving if combative family they’d once been. Over time, that sadness had bonded her and her dad. He’d become her best friend, making him proud her biggest goal.
When she’d told him she thought she might like to be a clinical psychologist like him, he’d smiled as if he’d just won the lottery. He’d hugged her. Spun her around, and laughed for the first time in months. No way she could’ve chosen a different path after that. No matter how much she hated studying. Still. Now she couldn’t imagine herself being anything other than a doctor of the mind. And for Penny to give her grief about it, well …
“Let’s talk about something else,” she said stiffly.
“Great. I’ve pissed you off, haven’t I?”
“No.” Yes. Maybe. Usually, they stayed away from the topic of her mother. Though several years had passed, the memories were sometimes too fresh, too raw. “I’d just prefer it if you looked out for your future, not mine.”
Penny sighed loud and long. “I shouldn’t have gone there, and I’m sorry. It’s just, all work and no play makes Mary a dull girl, and I want my sparkly girl back.” When Mary Ann offered no reply, Penny reached out and squeezed her hand. “Come on, Mary Contrary. I can still see the hurt. Forgive me. Please. We’ve only got, what? Fifteen minutes left, and I don’t want to spend it fighting with you. I love you more than anything or anyone and you know I’d cut off my leg and kick my own ass if I could. Maybe even cut out my tongue and nail it to your bedroom wall. And then I’d—”
“Okay, okay.” She laughed, the silly images her friend’s words evoked soothing her. “You’re forgiven.”
“Thank God. But seriously, girl. You really made me work for that one, and you know how I hate to work for anything.” Grinning that irresistible grin of hers, Penny dug a pack of ultrathins and a lighter from her beaded purse. She lit up, inhaling deeply. Soon a thick haze of smoke surrounded them and Penny was reclining in her chair, legs extended. “So what do you want to talk about? Girls we hate? Boys we love?”
Mary Ann cradled her mocha against her chest, leaning back as far as she could go. “Why don’t we discuss the fact that smoking kills?”
“No need. I’m indestructible.”
“You wish,” she said with a grin. But her amusement faded as a short but forceful gust of wind nailed her in the chest. She rubbed the spot just above her heart and gazed around.
That stray wind hadn’t seemed to affect anyone else.
Only one other time had she ever felt such a strong kick. Her stomach began to churn.
“If you won’t put the cigarette out for you, then put it out for me,” she said. “I don’t want to return to work smelling like an ashtray.”
“I have a feeling your roses will love you, anyway,” her friend said dryly and took another drag. “Take pity on me. I’ve been stressed and I need this.” As she spoke, she flicked the ashes on the pavement, attention wandering.
“What have you been stres—”
“Oh, oh, oh. Boy. Three o’clock. He just sat down at the table across from ours. Dark hair, movie-star face and muscles. Dear God, the muscles. Best part, he’s totally scoping you. Best part for you, that is. Why isn’t he scoping me, too?”
Mary Ann’s heart immediately soared into hyperspeed. First that strange wind, and then a dark-haired boy nearby? Please be a coincidence. Leaning forward, shielding her mouth with her hand, she whispered, “Is he dirty?”
“You mean, perverted? I don’t know, but I’m willing to find out. He’s hawt!”
“No. I mean dirty, as in mud and some kind of black gunk all over him? Like motor oil? Are his clothes ripped?”
“His face is dirty, yes. Well, kind of. It’s smeared, like he tried to clean up. But his shirt is clean and oh, so perfect. God, his hair is dyed black but the roots are blond. I wonder if he has a tattoo? That’s sexy. How old do you think he is? Eighteen? He’s tall enough to be legal. And oh, my God, he just looked at me! I think I’m going to faint.”
Besides the shirt, the description fit. Maybe he’d changed.
An emotion she couldn’t name skittered through her. That he might be here …
She’d meant to stop by her mother’s grave before meeting Penny. It was along the way, after all. But she’d taken one look at the boy, experienced that strange gust of wind, and had only wanted to escape.
“I saw him earlier,” she said. “I think … do you think he followed me?”
Eyes widening, Penny shifted in her seat and unabashedly peered over at him. “Probably. A stalker, do you think? God, that’s even sexier!”
“Don’t stare!” she gasped, slapping her friend’s arm.
Unhurried and unrepentant, Penny faced her. “Well, I don’t care if he’s the Tri City Butcher and keeps human hearts in his locker. The more I look at him, the more I like him. Very—” she shivered “—bad-boy chic. I might offer him my heart.”
Bad boy. Yes, that fit, too. Mary Ann didn’t have to turn to remind herself of what he looked like. His image was burned into her mind. As Penny had said, he had black hair with inch-long blond roots. What she hadn’t mentioned was that his face was as perfect as the Grecian statues she’d seen in her world history book, even with the grime. For the briefest of moments, when a beam of sunlight had hit him, Mary Ann would have sworn his eyes were striped with green, brown, blue and gold. But then the ray had disappeared beyond a fluff of clouds and the colors had melted into each other, leaving only an intense black.
The color didn’t matter, though. Those eyes were feral, wild, and she’d felt that undeniable shock of wind—bizarre wind that had ended as quickly as it had begun. For
