“Oh, Julia, look what you’ve done,” Luanne shook her finger.
The Daughter of the American Revolution stood up now, hands on her waist. “I’m merely a conduit to the past. We all have our path to take. I’m happy if this leads to personal insight.”
“But there’s nothing wrong with being sensible,” Grammy said, practically wringing her hands.
“Nothing wrong at all,” Luanne agreed.
“Did I say there was anything wrong with it? It’s just that maybe, for the first time in my life, I want to do something crazy. Something none of you would expect of me.” Emily crossed her arms.
From now on, she was going to do what she wanted, when she wanted, like Molly. No more Little Miss Perfect.
She’d show her family. She’d show everyone she could, at a moment’s notice, if the mood so struck her, be a wild woman.
“LET ME GET this straight. Your great-grandmother, your namesake, was a pilot.” Emily’s oldest friend, Rachel Harwood, leaned across the booth and touched the official pilot’s license, still wrapped in the plastic Julia had put it in.
Emily was still a bit surprised she’d been able to wrestle it out of Julia’s hands. “What do you think? Are you going to laugh, too?’
“Laugh? Why would I do that?” Rachel stirred her coffee. “Please. Let me just have a nice whiff of your leaded coffee. This decaf is killing me.”
Emily pushed her mug over and let Rachel take a nice long sniff. She obviously wanted Emily to feel sorry about the awful caffeine withdrawal, but she couldn’t dredge up even an ounce of pity. Rachel had switched to decaf because she was eight weeks pregnant.
It was Monday morning, and they were sitting in a booth at The Drip, one of Emily’s favorite places in town. Nothing could cheer her up like the strongest coffee in the Bay Area. “You don’t want to tell me that she doesn’t sound anything like me?”
“I didn’t expect you to have anything in common with a woman who lived in the first part of the last century,” Rachel said with a mini eye roll.
“Don’t you think she sounds wild and carefree?”
“Sweetie, women in that time were never wild and carefree. Get a clue.”
“But she was a maverick, for her time.”
“She sounds like she was bored,” Rachel said. “When you can’t vote, can’t work, can’t get birth control, I guess you get a little stir-crazy. Lesson learned.”
“I can’t believe you’re not impressed. I know I am. And from now on, I’m going to be a wild woman, too.”
Rachel froze and closed her eyes for a second. “You’re going to be a—what?”
“You heard me. I’m going to take chances and throw caution to the wind, and most of all, I’ll be the most impractical person you’ve ever met. Rachel, meet your new best friend. She’s going to be fun and carefree. Like a Rebel Without a Cause, but not so James Dean-y. I think you’re going to love me.”
“Where is my Emily and what have you done with her, you impostor?”
“I’m the new and improved Emily.”
Rachel put her hand on Emily’s arm. “Don’t let Greg do this to you.”
“This isn’t about him. This is all me.”
“Oh, the hell it is. You didn’t do anything wrong, so why change who you are?”
Emily sighed. “Because maybe I want to?”
“Only if you want to change for the right reasons. I’ve always said you can’t control everything. Sometimes the fun is in letting go and going for a ride.” Rachel rubbed her temple. “Okay. I get where you’re going with this. And I think I’m on board.”
“Thank you!”
“Why don’t we try this ‘new you’ on for size.” Rachel, who faced the entrance to the café from their booth, turned to point to a man who now stood in line behind her. “What about him?”
Emily glanced at the back of the man. Her back to the entrance, she hadn’t even noticed anyone come in. Still, she couldn’t see how a stranger had anything to do with this. “Him?”
“I’d like to see this new wild woman go up to that man and ask him out. Then I’ll believe you mean it. That will show me you’re willing to do this thing by relaxing Emily’s Dating Rules.”
“Can we start with something that doesn’t have anything to do with a guy? This new me doesn’t have anything to do with men.”
“Meh. I hear a lot of excuses. I don’t think you have it in you. It’s all right. Not everyone does.”
“I’m not afraid. There’s no point to it.” Besides, what if the man said yes? What then?
“Okay, okay, never mind.”
“What if he’s married?” That would be where she’d draw the line with this rebel thing. No married men. No thank you.
“Then he’ll say no.”
Emily raised an eyebrow. “Now who’s being naive?”
“I’ll have him checked out at the paper if he says yes. It’s one date, and it won’t kill you. And after that, you can go back to your dry spell.”
“Fine. I’ll do it. But if he says yes, you’ll have to find a way to get me out of it.” Emily planted her hands on the table, wrenched herself up and marched over to the man’s back.
It was a pretty good-looking back, as those went. Broad shoulders tapered down to long lean legs. Definitely fit, not that it mattered. Ask the man out. She could do that.
Rachel was worried about her, which was kind of sweet, actually. But even if Emily had stayed in bed for the better part of six months, she was back now and better than ever. Except, she wasn’t sure how she would ask this man out.
She’d watched Molly do this a bazillion times. Emily had to channel her inner Hoochie Mama. She was in there somewhere, under lock and key, and would now be released on an unsuspecting world. And this unsuspecting man. She’d probably come staggering out, waving cobwebs out of her way, but come out she would. Just for a minute.
Emily drew in a deep breath. In a voice as dripping with sex as she could conjure up, she said to the man’s back, “Hey, I think you and I should go out sometime. What do you say?”
The man had just paid for his drink and turned, coffee in hand, eyebrows up.
It was Stone.
Emily threw up her hand in surprise, and it accidently collided with his
