Look at your trees then. Not me.”
“I don’t want to be inhospitable.” She thought his gaze flicked down her body in a quick caress, which was silly since she was in her standard gray coveralls.
Suddenly, she really hated what she was wearing. It was Saturday. Maybe she should have arrived in a tank top and cutoff shorts with a plan to find many reasons to bend over while working. Of course, that would be before the frostbite set in.
Lori turned her back. “Fine then. Work and talk.”
“About what?”
Shrugging, she made sure to sound casual. “Where was the first place you went in Europe? You studied there, didn’t you? Tell me about it.”
After a long moment of silence, he did. His voice softened after a time, as if he were talking to himself, but Lori absorbed every word and stored it away for later.
T HE BRIGHT RUBY PUSHPINS were reserved for special occasions. Shaped like faceted jewels, they made Lori smile each time she used one. She rolled the pin back and forth between her thumb and finger, then pushed it carefully into the word Córdoba.
Quinn’s story deserved a ruby pin. He’d described the buildings of Córdoba with passion, eyes sparkling, hands shaping the arches and doorways of the ancient city. He’d spoken of domes and spires and mosaics like an artist speaking of love or sex. And Lori had gotten turned on listening to him, embarrassingly enough. Maybe her fetish was architecture.
Once the pin was perfectly even with all the others, Lori stepped back to take it in. Pins covered most of Europe and spread out from there. Blue and black and yellow and green. Each pin representing a story someone had told her or she’d read in a book. Each color a measure of her desire to visit that place. The ruby pins…Those cities would be her first stops.
Someday.
She’d planned her escape from the first day of sixth grade, when the new teacher had shown pictures of her summer trip: sixty days of backpacking through Europe. Lori had felt her heart swell with lust. That passion had grown, building upon itself with every book she checked out from the library, every documentary she watched on PBS. It had filled her up all the way through high school, leaving no room for interest in boys. All her concentration had gone into saving and studying to get into Boston College.
And she’d done it. She’d gotten into the international business program, and even scored a coveted scholarship to spend a semester at a university in the Netherlands for her sophomore year.
Lori’s heart spasmed, throwing sparks of pain against the walls of her chest.
Her dad had been so proud, refusing to even admit to a hint of loneliness during the four months she’d been at college. And then—
“Jesus,” Lori cursed. Skulking down memory lane was one of her least favorite activities. She spun away from the map and hit the light switch, plunging her old bedroom into darkness. Before she’d made her way down to the first floor, the doorbell rang, and Lori sprinted the last few steps.
When she opened the door, Molly rushed in and pulled her into a hug. “You really want to go shopping? ”
Lori pulled away and her gaze fell on the Aspen Living magazine she’d left on the couch. A pair of shoes she’d been lusting after for three days graced the back cover, not that she could afford them.
“Yeah, I think I do.”
Molly looked from the magazine to Lori’s face and nodded solemnly. “All right then. Let’s go buy some shoes.”
“Okay. And…and a dress.”
Already turning toward the door, Molly froze to stare openmouthed at her. “My God. Are you serious? I thought you were all about jeans.”
“I was. But I’m turning over a new leaf. I think.”
“A new, sexy leaf! Considering how good you look in jeans, I think you’re about to rock this town. And I just saw the perfect dress for you last week. We are going to have So. Much. Fun. ”
Lori couldn’t help but grin back at her. “Okay.”
“I made reservations at Peak for nine, so we’ve got a full four hours. Let’s do this.”
She nodded. “Let’s do this.”
Once they were in Molly’s cherry-red SUV and on the road to Aspen, Molly gave her a searching look. “Soo…”
“What?”
Her friend shot her another meaningful glance, but Lori just shrugged blankly.
“So…” Molly said, “is this an ‘I’m every woman,’ Oprah kind of makeover? Or is it a ‘that guy is hot and I want to do him’ kind of makeover?”
Lori glanced down at her too-short nails, noticing that she hadn’t quite gotten the grease cleaned from one of them. She clenched them into fists. “Both maybe. I don’t know why, but I just feel like buying some heels. Looking like a girl. And I want to do someone.”
“Who?” Molly’s eyebrows had flown nearly up to her hairline. “Who is it?”
“I don’t know.”
“Ooo, did you see him at The Bar? The café? Is he one of the mountain bikers in town for the race? Maybe—”
“Whoa, there, paperback writer. I mean I don’t know who I want to do. Just someone. Someone tall and strong and cute.” With nice hands, something in her head added without her even considering it.
“Oh, my God!” her friend cried. Lori had a sudden, strangling fear that Molly was about to yell something about Quinn, but she didn’t. “Lori’s gonna get her groove on!” she squealed instead, just before she started singing “Super Freak” in a loud, off-key alto.
“All right. Okay. I want to ask you something serious. Ready?”
Molly pulled her mouth into a severe line and narrowed her eyes, though her nostrils still flared with amusement. “I’m ready.”
Tiny raindrops pattered against the windshield as they neared the summit, and Lori chose to watch those instead of her friend’s face. “Um…Those stories you write? Are they always…? Um…”
“Excellent? Why, yes, they are.”
“Shut up.” Lori drew a breath. Molly liked to crack jokes, but she was a good person and a great friend, and the only one Lori could even dream of talking to about these things. She set her shoulders and plowed ahead. “I’m asking if they’re always stories about things you like?”
Molly turned her narrowed eyes toward Lori. “Are you asking if I like S and M?”
“No! I mean…No, I don’t care about whether or not Ben ties you up and makes you call him Daddy.”
“Nice,”
