when she came downstairs from her room—which was awesome, by the way—Madame was nowhere to be seen. One o’clock came and went. No Madame Davenport. And according to their private lesson this morning, being on time was paramount—a new word for Ginger.
Then suddenly the front door opened and there he was.
Serious hawtness in the flesh. James Gallagher. Whoo, someone bring me a fan. He wasn’t in a suit today, probably because it was Sunday. He wore a long-sleeved button-down shirt and dark jeans, and she could barely drag her gaze off his biceps. My oh my, was he built. Look up, Ging, she told herself, treated to those blue eyes and sooty dark lashes, strong brows to match his straight nose. And those lips. Ooh, those lips.
One doesn’t comment on appearance except to pay a compliment... “Looking fine, Gallagher,” she said, practically licking her lips.
He chuckled, surprise in his expression. Come on, the man was super hot. Surely he knew. Hot men always did. Then again, he was sort of “buttoned-up,” and those types tended not to know they were total Hemsworths.
“Did Larilla get in touch with you?” he asked. “She texted me that she wasn’t feeling well and asked if I’d accompany you on the shopping trip. Normally one of my sisters would, but they’re out of town until tonight visiting my brother at the ranch he works on.”
“You’re up on the ‘mom’ look?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.
“I used to help out Larilla a lot,” he said. “I know all the ‘looks’—the mom, VP, meeting the wealthy parents, be taken more seriously and every other look the students are trying to achieve.”
She shrugged. “Huh. Well, in that case, hot stuff, let’s go.” He turned to open the door, letting her walk through first, naturally. “Am I supposed to take your arm? They do that in movies.”
“Moms don’t have to take arms. They have their hands full, literally and figuratively.”
She tilted her head. “Say what?”
“No need to take my arm. We’re not headed into the opera or a ball.”
“Oh.” But what if I want to? she almost said.
They headed down the sidewalk, passing big, beautiful houses like the etiquette school. Ginger could see Main Street up ahead. The Wedlock Creek Library was visible from where they were, and she could smell yummy bakery scents coming from the café she’d stopped in yesterday. She’d walked around for about an hour after being accepted into the school. She’d have explored more, but she got quickly tired of the gapes from strangers. They’re boobs, people! she wanted to shout. Big whoop! She could blend in more easily in Jackson. Here in this small town, she stood out big-time.
James walked beside her, and Ginger could also smell his yummy scent, something spicy and soapy and masculine. “So Larilla says the objective is for you to look like you could go from playground to PTA meeting. Quite a difference from this look.”
“Right?” she said, glancing down at her metallic silver leggings, belted tunic that didn’t quite cover her tush and showed off her cleavage, and strappy sandals that wrapped around her ankles. Her toenails were each painted a different color. “Although yesterday, when I was walking around town, a little girl told me she liked my toes. So maybe I get to keep my fun toenails.” She lifted her foot and gave it a wiggle. “You got kids?”
“Me?” He shook his head. “No, ma’am. I’d say anything to do with marriage and children is about ten years off in the distance when I’ve finally done everything I’ve wanted to do the past seven years.”
“What have you been doing instead?”
“Raising my orphaned quintuplet half siblings,” he said. “I took them in when they were thirteen and I was twenty-one, fresh out of college.”
She hadn’t been expecting that. Sowing the ole wild oats was what she’d thought would come tumbling out of his mouth. Not that she thought all men were hound dogs. She just personally hadn’t met one who wasn’t. Then again, her circle didn’t exactly include quality men. “Wait a minute. Did you say quintuplets? Huh. That couldn’t have been easy. They must have been walking, talking hormones.”
He laughed. “They were. I almost went bankrupt keeping them on Clearasil.”
She liked the sound of his laughter. “I guess I got lucky there. I’ve never had a zit in my life.”
“Not one?”
“Nope. I take after my mother and grandmother. Amazing skin genes. They’re both gone now. Crazy that my mom will never meet my baby. Or vice versa, you know?”
He glanced at her and nodded. “Ten years from now or so, when I finally have a child, I’ll feel that same way, I’m sure.”
“You’re really stuck on the ten years thing, aren’t you? Ever heard of an oops?”
“I’ve heard of oops,” he said. “I’ll just make sure it doesn’t happen to me.”
“Condoms break, you know,” she said, looking down.
He eyed her and nodded. “Stuff happens. It’s the one thing I know for sure.”
She lifted her chin, shaking off thoughts of Alden and condoms. “It’s weird knowing my mom isn’t on the earth anymore. I’d say the same for my dad, but I never knew him. What’s also weird? Picking out a dad for my baby without knowing what a good dad would be like. I mean, I only know from TV shows.”
“Picking out a dad?” he repeated.
“That’s part of why I’m taking your godmother’s etiquette course. To look the part so I can attract a good man to be a dad to my kid.”
He stared at her hard for a moment.
“Why are you looking at me like I grew another boob?” she asked. “I’ll be looking for a guy like you. You know—quality.”
“I could be a real jerk for all you know,” he said. “Step one to finding a good man? Fixing your good-guy radar. Trust no one on first glance. Make no assumptions.”
“That’s silly. People make assumptions about me based on how I look.”
“Touché,” he said. “But I’ll bet a lot of those assumptions are wrong.”
She tilted her head and looked at him. “They are. Like being hot and having big hair means I’m not going to be a great mom. Because I will be.”
He glanced at her again, and she wondered what was going through his mind.
“Hot mama!” a man’s voice called out as they turned onto Main Street.
Ginger glanced around for who catcalled her. Main Street was bustling with people, but there—she saw him, some jerk in a cowboy hat staring at her chest and wriggling his eyebrows at her. “Up yours!” she shouted back and flipped the guy the bird as she and James kept walking.
James shook his head. “Neanderthal. Who catcalls a woman—and when she’s
