so glad you’re dating again,” Lauryn said.
“I’m not dating Marco,” she said firmly.
Lauryn’s brow furrowed as she turned to their other sister.
“Well, he wants to be her new boyfriend,” Tristyn said.
“And I’m not looking for a boyfriend,” she told both of them.
“It’s been more than three years,” Lauryn reminded her gently.
“I’m well aware of how long it’s been.”
“Brian wouldn’t want you to grieve forever.”
“I’m not still grieving,” she denied.
“Then why won’t you go out with Marco?” Tristyn demanded.
“I’m just not interested in dating anyone right now.”
“I understand that in theory,” Lauryn said. “But the man knocking on your door is a mouthwateringly tempting reality.”
“And she’s the married one,” Tristyn pointed out.
Jordyn couldn’t deny that Marco was mouthwatering. And tempting. But she was more scared than she was tempted. Because in the few short weeks that she’d known him, she’d realized that she liked him. And if she spent more time with him, if she actually went out on a date with him, she might find that she really liked him. Then that liking might lead to her wanting more, and she wasn’t willing to risk anything more.
“How’s Kylie?” she asked, referring to Lauryn’s fourteen-month-old daughter in a not-so-subtle attempt to change the topic of conversation.
“She’s getting so big,” Lauryn said. “And so independent. Since she started to walk, she doesn’t like being carried anymore.”
“Which probably isn’t a bad thing, considering that you’re going to be carrying another baby in a few months.”
“Not for another eight months,” she reminded her sisters. “Which is why Rob and I agreed not to tell anyone about the pregnancy yet.”
“We’re not anyone,” Tristyn protested. “We’re your sisters.”
Lauryn picked up the glass of spring water infused with cucumber and lime, and sipped. “He’s a little worried about having another child so soon,” she admitted. “Since Kylie was born, I’ve only been working part-time hours at the Gallery, and business isn’t great at the Locker Room.”
The Gallery was Garrett Furniture’s showroom where Lauryn had been a sales supervisor prior to her maternity leave, and the Locker Room was her husband’s sporting goods store downtown.
“How are the renovations on the house coming along?” Jordyn asked, hoping the shift in topic might ease the furrow in her sister’s brow.
But Lauryn only sighed. “They’ve stalled,” she admitted. “Rob’s been spending so many hours at the store, it doesn’t seem fair to expect him to tackle another job when he gets home.”
What wasn’t fair—at least in Jordyn’s opinion—was that her sister was living in a dump. Tom and Susan Garrett had given their daughter and her husband a generous cash gift for their wedding, with the understanding that the money would be used for a down payment on a house.
Lauryn had found what she wanted in Ridgemount—a simple craftsman-style house with pretty gardens and a modest backyard. Rob had agreed that the house was perfect, but he’d been reluctant to tie up all of their money in real estate when he was trying to make a go of his business. Instead, he’d convinced her that they could buy a fixer-upper for much less money and use the additional funds to purchase inventory for his fledgling business.
It was a solid plan—except that the fledgling business was now apparently a struggling business, and he’d done almost nothing to fix up the fixer-upper. In fact, the only reason the nursery had been fixed up before Kylie was born was that Jordyn had enlisted the help of Andrew and Nathan—two of their cousins—to get it done.
“I like that color.” Lauryn gestured to the polish that was being applied to her sister’s toenails in an obvious attempt to steer the conversation away from another uncomfortable topic. “What’s it called?”
“Cherried Away.” Jordyn pushed her hair behind her ear to show off her new purchase. “It matches my earrings.”
“I wish I was brave enough to wear color like that,” Lauryn said, her gaze shifting to her own toes.
“French pedicures are classic,” Tristyn assured her.
“Says the woman sporting Buxom Bronze on her feet and a quaternary Celtic knot tattoo on her ass.”
Tristyn grinned. “I get a lot of compliments on that tattoo.”
“We don’t want to know,” Jordyn told her.
“Maybe I do,” Lauryn said. “I’m an old married woman who needs to get her thrills vicariously through her single sisters—and since you won’t share anything about Marco—”
“Because there’s nothing to share,” Jordyn insisted.
“At least, not yet,” Tristyn said.
Thankfully, they were called upstairs for their massages, saving Jordyn from having to deny what she really wanted.
* * *
An hour later, the sisters walked out into the late-afternoon sunshine, and Jordyn’s gaze shifted to the empty property across the street.
“Did either of you hear anything about a new restaurant opening in place of Mykonos?”
“There have been rumors floating around for a couple of months,” Tristyn confirmed. “Is that why Marco was in the neighborhood?”
“He didn’t say, but that’s my guess.”
“You didn’t ask him?” Lauryn wondered.
“I did. He was evasive.”
“We could use a good Italian place nearby,” Tristyn said. “We’ve got three cafés, two diners, a deli, bakery, vegetarian bistro, pizza place, Asian fusion cuisine, Southern barbecue and Indian buffet, but nowhere to get a good plate of pasta.”
“The Spaghetti House isn’t very far,” Jordyn reminded her.
“I said ‘good plate of pasta.’”
“All this talk of food is making me hungry,” Lauryn said.
“Me, too,” Jordyn agreed. “Let’s head over to Marg & Rita’s before it gets too busy and we have to wait for a table.”
But Tristyn shook her head. “It’s my turn to pick where we’re going for dinner,” she reminded her sisters.
Which was technically
