Page 78 of Legs

“Anyway,” I said, “there’s too much going on to focus on him. I’m picking courses soon, and the luncheon is this weekend.”

Gwen stopped, and I nearly slammed into her. “Are you wearing that hot outfit I bought you?”

I shoved her forward. “I am. My mother might have a cow, but I don’t care. I feel sexy in it.”

“You are sexy, in that and in your sweats.”

We made our way to the street, and I scanned the road for a motorcycle, as usual. When I didn’t see Jimmy, disappointment rolled over me. I’d have to sort through my feelings soon.

* * *

For the next few days, I continued on in my indecisive haze. A dimmer had been set to my world, removing the bounce from my step, the cackle from my laugh. My mother’s luncheon was a welcome distraction.

The Healing Hearts function was in full swing, the outdoor tent swathed in pink, gray, and white flowers. Original paintings were showcased against the sides, each in memoriam of someone lost to heart disease, all up for silent auction. My mother had commissioned one for my father—a sailboat cresting a wave, conquering the seas. He’d have loved it.

I smiled for what felt like the first time this decade. As I took in the space, my mood brightened further, and when I noticed the drink stations, my heartrate rocketed, each beat pounding to the jazz band’s drumline.

Just as Jimmy had suggested, five displays had been set up, each hosting a different wine. No labels were visible, only blind pours offered. Guests swirled and sipped and squinted, trying to guess the grapes, even the years and wineries. I doubted many would come close, but their enjoyment was obvious. The activity was the perfect way to loosen up the crowd, and their wallets. The concept was brilliant.

Jimmy must have been helping my mother with the event, even after we’d broken up. If he’d been struggling as much as his texts suggested, as much as I had been, working with my mother, who’d never breathed a word of their communication, would have been challenging. But he hadn’t backed out, because he was a good man. A man whose emotions had gotten the better of him, but that meant he was passionate. And fiery. And sensitive.

And worth fighting for.

Which is exactly what I suddenly wanted to do: fight for him. Because a life without that kind of electricity was no life at all.

Thanks to my mother, I’d paid my tuition this morning, but the act had lacked a certain thrill. Not calling Jimmy to share the news had been excruciating, his daily absence diluting my enjoyment of everything. He was sunshine, not me. I was a grape thirsting to ripen, his energy my life’s blood, and I was done putting him off.

My mother, unfortunately, chose that moment to nearly careen into my side. “Laura Ketlar has done nothing but take credit for my work. Ordering the rentals doesn’t mean she singlehandedly”—she waved an impatient hand through the air—“organized the event. She didn’t lift a finger to help with the grunt work.”

As hard as I tried to listen, my heart had migrated to my throat, my need to escape and call my bad boy all consuming, but the fundraiser was a big deal. My mother needed my support. “Well, I’m impressed. You’ve outdone yourself this year.”

She scanned the space, one eyebrow expertly raised. “The caterers are a server short. They thought they’d slip it past us. The whole thing is shameful, really.”

That and the unrest in the Middle East. “No one has noticed, and look how many people have bid on Dad’s painting. The whole thing is a success.”

She squeezed my elbow. “You’re right, as usual. It’s just taken so much time and—” She stopped midsentence and scrutinized my wrist. “Is that a rash, Rachel? Is your purse on you? Use some cortisone right away and again tonight. If it’s not better in a day or two, make an appointment with Dr. Rancor.”

“On it,” I said. No need to share that it was a mosquito bite. Why rob her of her daily dose of overreacting?

A trait that had her examining my choice of wardrobe. “And that outfit is way too revealing. This isn’t a costume party.”

“That’s a shame. I was counting on winning the Most Likely to Get Arrested for Prostitution costume award.” I could only imagine how she’d react to my piercing.

“Honestly, Rachel. You and your brother will be the death of me. And did you hear Piper Lewis named her daughter Feather? Of all the things.”

She ran with her new topic, and I didn’t bother keeping up. I glanced at my legs, admiring their length in my heels and short skirt. No, my outfit didn’t blend with the pantsuits and cocktail dresses adorning the crowd. The notion only heightened my confidence. If anything, I felt sexier. Jimmy would have stood out, too, if he were here. All rough and inked, drawing curious looks from the guests. He would have had me hypnotized.

“Ma,” I said, interrupting her rant. “If Jimmy and I were still together, would you have given him a hard time, too? You know, asked that he dress a certain way, have him cover his ink?”

She placed her hands on both of my cheeks, sending her shoulders pads near her ears. “You’re my girl, and I’m sorry for what I said. You look beautiful today. I’m just stressed and nitpicking.” She patted my cheek and released me.

The compliment was lovely, but she’d avoided my question. “What about Jimmy, Ma? When I was with Gabe, you banned us from your parties. Would having Jimmy here have made you uncomfortable?” Her answer didn’t matter. It wouldn’t sway me from my decision to accept Jimmy’s apology, but it would be nice to know she’d have welcomed him here.

Her reply came slowly. “When you were with Gabe, I’d been going through a tough time. Most of my friends were friends of convenience, and I never really felt like I fit in. I took some of that out on you. Things are different now. I’ve met wonderful women through this organization, and Jimmy is nothing like that Gabe boy.”

I held my breath, nosy and nervous. “So you like Jimmy? I mean, it looks like you’ve been working with him on this event, so I’m guessing you’ve spent time with him.”

Her eyes sparkled, like when she’d passed me my tuition check, pride in her glowing smile. “When I first saw Jimmy, I only saw his rough exterior, and those…tattoos. Afterward, I saw a strong man who was led by his emotions. A potentially dangerous combination, but Jimmy has a heart of gold. Your father would have liked him, too. I’d be proud to have him here.”