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Six
“I’m not sure this is a good idea,” Aubrey’s mother said for the eighteenth time, or was it for the eightieth time?
“Yes, you’ve made that clear.” Aubrey swiped shiny lip gloss onto her mouth and, satisfied with her reflection, turned to her mother and held out both arms. “What do you think?”
“You’re so beautiful it’s hard to believe you came from me.”
“You’re still a fox from head to toe, Mary Collins. Never let anyone tell you differently.” Aubrey fiddled with her naked fingers. “Did you pack any of my jewelry when you went to my apartment? I’d love a ring or a necklace.” All she had with her were the diamond stud earrings she’d been wearing the night of the cook-off.
“I didn’t think to grab any, but I do have a Christmas gift socked away for you.”
Aubrey pressed her palms together. She loved nothing more than Christmas, unless it was early Christmas presents. “I beg of you. I’ll never ask for another thing again if you give it to me today.”
“Some things never change.” In her bedroom, Mary pulled open a drawer in her jewelry chest and plucked out a blue Tiffany & Co. box.
“Mom.” Aubrey stared, overwhelmed. Her mother had bought her nice gifts before, but a piece of jewelry from Tiffany was far from the norm. “This feels special. Unless I’m forgetting a few years’ worth of extravagant gifts?”
“No,” her mother said. “You are not forgetting. Your father and I had a very good year with our investments, and we’re treating our daughter.”
Aubrey opened the box top to reveal a delicate gold chain with a key pendant. In the center of the key was a diamond. “It’s...wow, so beautiful.”
“You’ll always have a home with us, no matter where life takes you. I bought it before your accident, but the sentiment is more apt now. Since you’ve been temporarily displaced.” Her mother hooked the necklace around Aubrey’s neck and turned her to face the full-length mirror.
Last night, Vic had called her and asked if she wanted to go out to a nice dinner. Aubrey had nearly leaped for joy. Dinner at her parents’ house and a trip to an ice-cream shop were nice, but she wanted to have a real date with him. Preferably one that ended in his bedroom, which she fully intended to talk him into as soon as possible.
That morning, in preparation, she’d taken a Lyft to Saint Tropez Salon for a trim. With her auburn hair styled in luscious waves, she’d then popped into the Rancher’s Daughter for something to wear tonight. Morgan had been behind the counter and had helped Aubrey pick out a stunning siren-red A-line dress. The skirt was knee-length and swishy, the sleeves missing, perfect to display her toned arms. At Morgan’s further insistence, Aubrey had also purchased a sexy, strappy pair of shoes—with low heels, since spindly ones weren’t a challenge she needed. The necklace from her mother pulled the entire look together.
“It’s perfect. Thank you, Mom.” She hugged her mother tight. When she let go, she noticed the worry lines etched into Mary’s brow anew. “Don’t start. He’s taking me dancing, not stock-car racing.”
“At least you took a car into town rather than drive yourself.”
“See? I listen sometimes.” Aubrey smiled.
“When you fell, you weren’t doing anything remotely dangerous. How can I be sure you’re safe out there?”
“I’ll be on level ground, and I’ll be with Vic. I’m in the best, most capable hands.”
Twenty minutes later, Aubrey opened her mother’s front door to find Vic beneath the covered porch. He wore a dark pair of jeans and boots, a collared shirt and a sport jacket. His shirt beneath was open at the collar, giving her a peek at the tanned column of his throat. And the way the jacket showcased his broad shoulders was nearly too much to process.
“Aubrey. God, you look beautiful.” His awestruck expression sent droves of goose bumps down her arms.
“Do you like it?” She held out the skirt and did a quarter turn. “Morgan helped me pick it out.”
“Hell yeah, I like it.” His cunning smile appeared, making her wish they could skip dinner and go straight to him taking this dress off her.
“What time are you coming home, gingerbread?” her father interrupted—on purpose—from his recliner in the living room.
“I don’t know,” she called back, unable to mask her frustration. To Vic, she said, “They treat me like I’m a teenager.”
“We do not,” Mary chimed in, sneaking up on her. “We are treating you like you have an injury. You shouldn’t press your luck.”
“I won’t let her out of my sight,” Vic vowed, but his eyes never left Aubrey’s.
The short drive landed them at the valet station of Sheen, a restaurant constructed almost entirely of glass. She’d wanted to try it the moment she’d heard about it. When Vic had mentioned the restaurant, she’d carefully asked if he’d ever taken her there and he’d said no. “It’ll be the first time for both of us.”
He offered his arm and walked them inside. The hostess swiftly seated them at the rear of the dining room, where a candlelit table for two was shrouded in shadows. Aubrey gawped at the kitchen, in full view in the center of the restaurant. What a unique and modern atmosphere.
He pulled out her chair for her and ordered a bottle of something she’d never heard of before. “What was that?”
