“Hey,” Ginny said again.
Shepherd looked at her begrudgingly, willing his eyes to not go full heart-on, or whatever the hell Chris had called it. “We gotta warn Noah,” he said, “before the whole charade goes up in smoke.”
“I know,” she whispered. Her breath was soft on his face, and it smelled like cinnamon gum and the cheap coffee they served for more than it was worth. Her hand was still in his,her fingers laced through his own. So much warmer than they had been just a half-hour ago outside, when she’d hatched this plan. When she’d called him Obi-Wan.
How would she look in the Princess Leia buns? Fantastic, he’d bet.
Shepherd closed his eyes. The hearts were flying out of them, he could tell. Damn it all.
Ginny kissed his cheek. Soft and chaste. It was over before it even began, but he felt it. From his cheek to his chest and his stomach, all the way down to the bottom of his feet. “Thank you, Shepherd.”
Shepherd cleared his throat and opened his eyes and stared at her ear for fear of completely losing the last shred of calm and collectedness he was holding on to.
“Yeah. Yeah. It’s nothing.” He cleared his throat again, like the noise could do something about the shaking, jittering feeling coursing through his veins. “Come on. Let’s extricate the target and get to work on your plan. I’ll text Noah and bring him in on things.”
THREE
“OK,” Ginny said from the corner of her mouth, “you get my mom to a table; I’ll pay Mr. Martin the rent.”
“What?” Shepherd tugged on her hand. “What? Why? Why me and your mom? Why you and Mr. Martin? Ginny, this isn’t fair!”
Ginny weaseled apart from him. “She’s a romantic, and you’re handsome! You’ll distract her much better than I will. Thank you, best fake boyfriend in the whole world.” She winked and walked away, and Shepherd inhaled a ragged breath. Beer hadn’t been cleaned up properly and was now going sour on the floor next to him. He looked for a mop and decidedly didnotlook at her ass.
Her perfect, upside-down-heart-shaped ass that her dark-wash denim jeans highlighted like it was an arrow and his eyes were the target. Handsome, she’d said.
She’d called him handsome.
And now she was laughing at something Mr. Martin was saying and opening up the cash register, and he couldn’t see her perfect butt anymore.
Noah was still talking to the couple they were trying to separate. Shit. Shepherd needed to text him and get him up to speed. But how the hell do you sum up a situation like this?
Hi, we decided it would be fun to live in a plot line of a 1990s sitcom. Thank God It’s Friday, am I right? Anyway, leave us alone, please and thank you.
Shepherd forced a grin on his face and swaggered over to Ginny’s mother. “Hello,” he greeted, setting a hand on her arm that wasn’t awkward or damp at all. Her silk blouse stuck to his palm. “Ginny and I would like to treat you to lunch. As I am … hoping to get to know you. Personally. On a personal level.”
Noah’s mouth fell open. “Uh,” he said, tilting his head so far it touched his shoulder. “Uh.”
Deandra Kent’s expression didn’t change. He suspected she paid for the feature. But the glint in her ice-blue eyes changed from disdain to curiosity.
“Lunch sounds good,” Mr. Martin said.
“Here’s your rent, Mr. Martin!” Ginny shouted. She shoved a thick envelope at the older man. “Thank you for coming in and collecting it! It saves on stamps and gas!”
Noah wrinkled his nose. “What the hell?”
Shepherd pulled his phone out of his pocket and tried to text with one hand behind his back. Noah was the person he texted the third most. He hoped his muscle memory was enough to pull up his name and not his daughter’s, because she sure would be confused.
No. Lex would be delighted. She lived for this kind of chaos. That was probably why she and Ginny got along so well.
Not that he thought about how well Ginny and his daughter got along, or that it made his heart hurt like he’d been punched in the chest.
“Please,” Shepherd said, his lips cracking from the force of his smile. “They’re making our pizza right now. Won’t you join us, Mrs. Kent?”
“Oh, it’sMs.,” Deandra said. Her curious eyes took him in, up and down and back again. A flirty smile settled on her lips. “And I suppose so. Though I’m not much of a pizza eater. Do you have salads in this establishment?”
“For you?” Shepherd winked. “Anything you want.” He hated himself and wanted to die. Where were the sinkholes Florida was famous for when you needed one to swallow you up and take you to hell?
Ginny hurried around the bar. “Have a good day, Mr. Martin!” She was still shouting. Her hands fluttered around the landlord as if she wanted to push him.
