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“Looks, brainsanda soul? I didn’t think any of them came that fully equipped. Go ahead, tell me all the romantic details—the where, what and how of your big lovey-dovey exchange. I promise not to gag. Too much.”
“I, uh, didn’t say it back.”
Totally inappropriate whooping broke the cultured silence in the restaurant. “There’s hope for you yet, girlfriend.”
“I didn’t say that I don’t love him, only that I didn’t tell him.”
“And why didn’t you?”
“Nerves. I was chicken.”
“What a load of crap. He said it first, you had nothing to be afraid of.”
This is why she’d called Lasha for lunch—and why Scott had loathed the woman. Her friend might not have much experience in the love department, but she knew Andie to the core. Lasha never sugarcoated her opinions—which seldom meshed with Andie’s—but she supported whatever choices Andie made. And that’s why Lasha was her best friend.
All traces of sarcasm and raunchy humor disappeared as Lasha reached for Andie’s hand. “Honey, being tightlipped with your feelings won’t make it hurt less if things don’t work out. You know that better than anybody.”
Andie managed a little nod and a whispered, “Thanks.”
“For reminding you of the miscarriages? Sure. What are friends for, if not to dredge up your most painful memories?”
“I haven’t forgotten…in fact, I’ve been thinking about them a lot lately.”
“Oh, shit. Tell me you’re not knocked up.”
“I’m not.” Not that she knew of, anyway.
“Thank god—you’ve been through enough hell in that department.” Lasha’s phone vibrated on the table, its blaring ringtone treating the restaurant patrons to explicit song lyrics. Typical Lasha, she let the entire chorus play through before hitting the mute button and shoving it back in her purse.
They were the center of attention once again. “We’re going to be blacklisted from this place.”
“Don’t worry, I’m on very friendly terms with the manager,” Lasha said as she exchanged the check for three crisp twenties.
Andie looked around for a manager-type as they headed for the exit. “Is he in the current rotation, or have you already cut him from the roster?”
“Current all-star, but you’ve got the wrong team.” Lasha’s nod indicated a gorgeous redhead standing behind the bar.
“Wow, she’s beautiful. Nice boobs too.”
“You should see them in the flesh.”
Okay, so this was a new vein of conversation—and lifestyle, even for Lasha.
“Um, since when are you bisexual?”
“Since when are you a cougar?” Lasha asked, hand on hip, smile on her face.
“Point taken.”
Her friend doled out the usual hug and cheek-smooch before folding herself into a sporty two-seater better suited to an exotic dancer than an accountant at a livestock feed plant. “So. You going to tell the hunky veterinarian that you love him, be all conventional and stuff?”
“First chance I get.”
Chapter Fifteen
MASON
“What?” Not the nicest way to answer Cara’s page from the front desk, but he was sick of politely dodging her sexually laced offers every time he turned around.
