She leaned back from the mirror, lifting her hair this way and that. Up or down? Down said casual, just two friends going to dinner. If anyone saw her and Brody together, she could play it off as just a friendly meet-up with a distant acquaintance. Up said fancy, maybe a date. There was no way to pass off fancy hair as a casual get-together. Fancy hair said she’d put in time, effort. That she was looking to score.
Which she was.
But she didn’t want anyone else knowing that.
Including Brody, who seemed completely determined to keep their relationship—or friendship, as he always corrected her—on his terms. Which included his stopping by at random times over the last week, eating cookies, testing her new recipes and nagging her to do something with her baking instead of giving it away. He didn’t talk much, but listened just fine as long as the conversation wasn’t about him. Which meant Genna did all the talking. She hadn’t realized how much she had to say, things she couldn’t say to the other people in her life. Frustrations and worries, dreams and fears.
But nothing about them. Nothing personal. The minute she’d bring up that night ten years ago, Brody would shut it down. If she mentioned their first meeting two weeks ago, he changed the subject.
And the few times she’d tried flirting?
He’d walked out.
Genna dropped her hair and pressed her fingers to her temples.
Clearly, it was going to be a hair-down kind of evening.
But she wanted it up.
She sighed. Yeah. She was going crazy.
“Hey.”
Genna jumped.
She’d been so focused on her image, she hadn’t heard Macy come in.
Her stomach tightened with nerves that had nothing to do with Brody, but everything to do with her relationship with him.
“What’re you doing here?” she asked, glancing from Macy to the clock. Brody wasn’t due for twenty minutes. Hopefully she could shoo her friend out before he got here.
“I came by to borrow your printer. The caterer emailed me the final contract,” Macy said, her tone distracted as she gave Genna a suspicious twice-over. Clearly the first glance had tipped her off. Genna brushed her fingers over her hair, hanging loose and casual, and bit her lip.
“What’re you doing?” Macy asked, stepping farther into the room. Her gaze swept from Genna’s dress to the three others tossed on the bed, then landed on the tangled pile of shoes next to the closet. Her arched brows demanded information.
Genna didn’t want to give it to her, though.
Macy would judge. And since Brody had been stubbornly reluctant to take his hero dues, especially in public, the gossip had shifted. Now the lunchtime buzz wasn’t as much about Brody Lane, the military hero. It was more speculation with a whole lot of rehashing his past.
Macy, like Genna’s parents, would buy into the speculation, rather than trusting the hero buzz.
“I’m just trying on outfits. You know, playing girl for a change.” Just because she lived most of her life in jeans didn’t mean she didn’t have a great wardrobe of things she never got to wear anywhere. Especially the shoes. A girl who stood five-ten barefoot and only seemed to date insecure men never got to wear heels. Since Brody was secure as hell and six-two, she’d figured this was a great time to scuff those soles.
But she didn’t want to tell Macy that, either.
“You’re going out?”
“Maybe.”
“With Stewart?” Macy said, looking at the four-inch, pointed-toe stiletto pumps on Genna’s feet.
“Eww. No. He collects troll dolls. Remember?”
“Then who are you going out with?”
Crap. Genna gave the clock a wincing glance and realized she wasn’t going to get out of this. She took a deep breath and put on her most confident face.
“With a friend for a friendly dinner. Sort of repayment for a few dozen cookies, a cake and a couple of pies. You know how everyone pays me for my baked goods in favors or in exchange?”
“I don’t remember you getting all dressed up when Mr. Jenson bought you lunch last month for making his granddaughter birthday cupcakes.”
“That’s because Mr. Jenson bought me a hoagie and a side of fruitcake off the lunch truck and he didn’t even invite me to the party.” And, of course, there was the fact that the sixty-year-old pharmacist looked nothing like her hot and hunky SEAL.
“So. Who’s been eating your cookies?” Macy asked suspiciously.
Sadly, no one. Since Macy wouldn’t understand or appreciate that joke, Genna just shrugged.
“Genna...”
“Brody Lane,” she blurted out, throwing her hands in the air. “There. Now you know. I’m going to dinner—a casual, just-between-friends dinner—with Brody Lane.”
From the horror in her eyes and the drop of Macy’s chin, maybe it’d have been better if she’d said she was going to dinner with an ax murderer.
“Like I said, it’s just a thank-you meal. No big deal.”
Macy’s mouth worked, but nothing came out. Good. Genna knew she wasn’t going to like hearing it when her friend recovered.
Pretending her spine wasn’t so tight it’d take a chiropractor and a sledgehammer to crack it, she moved to the full-length mirror to check her dress. Was it too fancy for a simple dinner between friends?
Red and fitted with a sweetheart neckline that made the most of the very little she had, the bodice hugged her body to the waist before flaring into full pleats to just above her knees.
She sneaked a glance at Macy’s expression in the mirror. The other woman looked like she figured a straitjacket would be a better fit.
“Okay. What? Go ahead and say whatever you have to say. But do it fast, because Brody’s going to be here in ten minutes and I’m leaving.”
“You’re crazy. Don’t you remember what happened last time you chased after this guy? How furious your parents were? In case you forgot, your mom ended up in the hospital and your brother in jail.”
Praying for patience, Genna reminded herself that this was her oldest, dearest friend. And that she was too heavy to throw out the window.
“Joe stole a car. That had nothing to do with me, my actions or Brody. He would have gone to jail even if I was sitting at home eating popcorn and watching reruns of Friends.” Something she’d told herself, and her parents, a million times over. Dammit, she wasn’t to blame for her brother’s choices. “And Mom went to the hospital because she had an asthma attack. Again, in no way related to my actions that night.”
“Her
