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“Okay? Is there something wrong with your eyesight?”
They both looked back at Ty. He pushed his straw cowboy hat off his forehead and bent down to speak to the flustered girl in the window. She could barely compose herself long enough to write down his order. His bent posture showed off one of his best features, especially to the women who were sitting in the car behind him. His physique did wonders for an ordinary pair of blue jeans. Seemingly in no hurry, he was exercising his dazzling smile on the simpering waitress while waiting for his order to be cooked.
“I thought you were madly in love with Steve.” Sunny’s tone was peevish, though, if asked, she couldn’t have specified why she was annoyed.
“I am. But I’m not blind,” Fran replied. “Steve’ll benefit from my sexual fantasies. Cosmo says they’re healthy and harmless.”
“And you think Beaumont is fantasy material?” Sunny was curious about him, but didn’t want to come right out and ask leading questions. Perhaps Fran would take the bait and divulge information Sunny wanted.
“Don’t you?”
She shrugged. “He’s probably a lot like Ernie. It’s all exterior packaging.”
“Not the way I hear it.”
“Really?” Sunny asked innocently.
“Hmm. A friend of mine told me—” She suddenly broke off, casting a quick glance over her shoulder. “Hey, girls, if you’re finished, you can get out and play on your skateboards.”
Her daughters, who had gulped their lunch and were restlessly waiting in the backseat for Fran and Sunny to finish, whooped with glee and, taking their skateboards with them, scrambled from the car.
“Be careful,” Fran called.
At the sound of her voice, Ty turned, spotted her, and waved. She waved back. He smacked the girls on their bottoms as they ran past him and warned them to be careful on their skateboards. He then turned back to the window to take up his conversation with the waitress. Because of his
sunglasses, Sunny couldn’t tell if he had noticed her sitting in Fran’s car.
“What did this friend of yours say?” She hoped she sounded casual enough.
“Well,” Fran said, stuffing a catsup-drenched french fry into her mouth, “what it amounted to was that”— she licked salt from her fingers—“he was the best she’d ever had.” She swallowed her bite.
Sunny, who had nothing in her mouth, swallowed equally as hard. Unaware of her friend’s discomfort, Fran drew on her chocolate malt.
“He set hearts all over town aflutter when he arrived. They haven’t stilled yet.”
“Where’d he come from?”
“Florida, I think. Very hush-hush circumstances. There’s never been mention of a Mrs. Beaumont. Widows and divorcées have tried their best to remedy that. They flock to him.” Fran laughed. “I doubt he’s cooked more than three dinners for himself since he moved to town.”
“So he’s been involved with a lot of women?”
“No, that’s the problem. He doesn’t become involved.”
“Oh,” Sunny said unkindly, “one of those.”
“Not exactly.” Thoughtfully Fran stirred her malt. “My friend said that he laid his cards on the table before he ever folded his pants over the footboard of her bed. He told her up front that he wasn’t looking for a lasting relationship and not to expect one.”
“But she didn’t believe him.”
“I guess not. After a few weeks of dinner dates and multiple orgasms, he stopped calling her. She was heartbroken.” Fran paused in her story to shout out the window for one of her daughters to stop wheeling in the path of the other one.
“That’s been the pattern with any woman he sees,” she said when she resumed. “But from what I understand, he plays fair. He tells them at the outset that it’s temporary.”
“And they’re still willing to risk getting hurt? He can’t be all that good.”
Fran shot her a naughty smile. “But it sure would be fun to find out, wouldn’t it?” Sunny frowned; Fran laughed. “You know, Steve and I were worried about you the other night when we saw you dancing together. I didn’t get a chance to warn you about him before you left the party. But then I figured you could handle him. You two are so much alike.”
“Beaumont and me?” Sunny cried. “How?”
