“Hiya!” she said.
He stared at her, then realized he shouldn’t stare and tried to look away, but he couldn’t. “Uh, hi?”
“Something wrong?” she asked, walking around her desk and sitting down, crossing her very long legs. He now also knew that her underwear was shiny and purple.
“Just surprised.”
She blew a bubble and stuck her finger in it to pop it. Then she giggled. “Oopsies, hardly professional.” She plucked the gum from her mouth and dropped it in the wastepaper basket under her desk. “Well, lots of work to do. I have at least ten calls to make this morning to follow up on clients before you leave on your trip.”
“Ginger, what the hell is going on? Why did you...revert back?”
“Because this is really who I am, James. Plain and simple. And to be honest, the most important thing I learned from Madame Davenport is that being yourself is everything.”
He stared at her. Dumbfounded. “I suppose it is. I just thought—”
Never mind. Perhaps this was all part of the process of “finding herself,” being the woman she wanted to be. Sometimes you had to take a step back to go forward.
Not that this was a step back. Not really. Because as James stood there, trying not to stare at Ginger in her crazy getup, he knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he had some very strong feelings for this woman. Her clothing was beside the point. Or maybe the clothing was the point. He liked her this way; this was who she was. As was her more professional look. It was all Ginger, all part of the whole.
He liked her as she was. However she was.
So there was only one thing to do with this new information. Avoid, ignore, make himself scarce.
“Well, we both have work to do, so...” With that, he awkwardly marched to his office and closed the door, his heart beating five miles a minute.
In no time at all, Ginger O’Leary had gotten so far inside him that she had him all tangled up.
There was a knock on the door.
He cleared his throat. “Come in.”
She opened the door, a trail of her old perfume, the sexy spicy one, hitting him full in the face, full everywhere. “Before we get all busy, could I get your opinion?”
“Sure,” he said.
“Madame Davenport asked me the other day if I’d like to be set up on a blind date with a wonderful young man she knows, and, of course, I said yes. And not for an assessment either. A real date. With a real candidate to be Bluebell’s father. Isn’t that awesome.”
Was it hot in here? Had his collar shrunk?
“I thought—” He bit his tongue. It wasn’t his business, right? If Ginger had come to the conclusion that this was her look, then this was her look. He saw past the pound of makeup and skimpy outfit to the woman underneath, so why wouldn’t any other guy?
Crud.
“You wanted my opinion on something?” he asked, hearing his voice tighten.
“I was thinking for tonight’s big date I’d wear all black and be super elegant, but do you think I should go with color instead?”
Was that a tattoo on her shoulder? He peered closer and yes—yes, it was. Hot Stuff, it said. That hadn’t been there before, had it?
“I think whichever,” he said. “You look good in everything.” Which was the truth.
The old look tended to eclipse the real Ginger, so he wondered if that was all tonight’s date would see. The itty-bitty clothes, the over-the-top cleavage, the super-done hair with the big precise waves. You could barely see her gorgeous hazel eyes with all that black lining them, all that heavy mascara.
Maybe her date would be unable to resist her. Or maybe he’d think she wasn’t his type. Maybe he’d fall head over heels and carry Ginger off to the Wedlock Creek Chapel and they’d marry at midnight. Ginger would have her “quality” husband and Bluebell a “quality” father. Handpicked by his own godmother.
His heart lurched. Bile squeezed his gut. How could be so torn up about Ginger finding love with another guy when that was the whole point? When that was supposedly what he wanted for her because he wouldn’t be that guy himself.
So why couldn’t he bear the thought of her with someone else?
* * *
Amelia and Merry did a double take when Ginger arrived back at Madame Davenport’s School of Etiquette.
“So this is a surprise,” Amelia said.
“Big surprise,” Merry added. “I thought you really liked your new look.”
“I do. A lot. In fact, I’ve felt more ‘me’ the past two weeks than my whole life.” The realizations she’d come to, the streamlined look, the little bit of poise she’d managed to make part of herself. She did like the person she became—for the right reasons.
“So you look like this because...?” Amelia asked.
Should she tell them? They were James’s sisters, so she really shouldn’t talk about him behind his back. But then again, they were her friends, and part of her life here at the school.
Like Ginger could ever hold anything in anyway.
“I’m trying to unattract your brother,” she admitted.
Two sets of pale brown eyes bugged out.
“Wait—is there something going between you and James?” Amelia asked.
“He’s trying his best for there not to be. He likes me—that way—but he doesn’t want to. And he certainly doesn’t want the life he’d get with me. Instant fatherhood. Family man. Life laid out for the next eighteen years—for forever, really. And I care too much about him to let him ‘pick me’ when he needs to be a carefree bachelor.”
“Ah, I get it,” Merry said. “You’re trying to turn him off.”
She nodded, then wrapped her arms around herself as a chill crept along her bones. She’d shut him out this morning. In the weeks she’d known him, they’d been so honest with each other, but showing up looking this way, not telling him why, felt like a big fat lie. And she didn’t like lies between them.
“James deserves the summer world trip. He deserves the next ten years to be free of heavy responsibility to anyone but himself. He’s given so much to others, and now it’s his turn to live the life of the wild and free. He can party. He can date a zillion women. He can take off for Vegas at a moment’s notice.”
Merry chuckled. “You’re talking about James.”
“You say that only because he’s been unable to do those things the past seven years,” Ginger pointed out. “You guys have always come first.”
“We know,” Merry said, her tone so reverent that Ginger reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze.
“So I’m going to make sure that James unfalls for me,” Ginger continued. “And I’m going to fall for someone else too. Larilla set me up on a date tonight. She knows how important it is to me to find a good father for my baby. So I’m sure he’s a wonderful guy.”
At this point, Ginger knew she’d be just fine on her own. A great mother. Her life was in order. She didn’t need a man to round anything out or make anything better. Yes, it would be nice for Bluebell to have a great dad. But she didn’t need to seek one out anymore; if she met someone organically, fine.
But that someone would have to be exactly like James. And there couldn’t possibly be two James Gallaghers in the world.
Yes, she would do just fine on her own.
“I’m sure your date will be a total catch,” Amelia said.
“Definitely,” Merry added.
Ginger adored these two.
“Want to know something?” Amelia asked. “Now that I know you, I don’t even see the makeup or tiny skirt while talking to you right now. It’s like I don’t even notice it. But when Larilla showed us a photo of you from the day you arrived at the school, that was all I saw.”
“I think that’s what happens when you really and truly see a person,” Ginger said. “And I’m glad you
do see me. No matter what I’m wearing or how much makeup is caked on my face. It means we’re true-blue friends.”
The sisters beamed. “Good luck on the date tonight,” Merry said.
She had a good feeling about it. Larilla was a shrewd, smart cookie. If she handpicked this guy for her, he had to be someone special. At the least, she’d have a nice time. But the pressure was off.
Ginger had no idea how anyone could be more special than James, but that was the point of going on the date, wasn’t it? To allow someone to be more special to her.
Tall order.
* * *
Ginger was getting ready for her date—dressed like the new her—when there was a knock on the door. She put her hairbrush on the dressing table and opened the door. Sandrine stood there, tears streaming down her cheeks.
Ginger pulled her into her arms for a hug. “Hey,” she said, dashing away her friend’s tears from the tops of her cheeks. “What happened?”
Sandrine sniffled and dropped down on the edge of Ginger’s bed. “If you ever need a dentist, don’t go to Landon Cole, DDS. Trust me, he’s the worst!” She broke down in a fresh round of sobs.
Clearly Sandrine hadn’t just come from a dentist’s appointment gone horribly. Landon was her boss. The one she was in love with despite having proved his jackassery during her assessment at the Cowabunga Café.
“I gave him the benefit of the doubt,” Sandrine explained, dabbing under her eyes with a tissue. “I figured he was just saying what he thought Madame Davenport might expect from an etiquette student. But today at work, as a patient left the examination room, he said, ‘I’ve always wanted to have sex on the exam chair. You in?’”
Ginger’s eyes bugged out. “You’re kidding. Please be kidding.”
She shook her head. “I wish I were. And I said, ‘That’s incredibly inappropriate.’ And he said, ‘Oh please, you’ve been after me since you started working for me. I see the way you look at me, the way you talk to me. You want it, so come and get it, baby. I’m done being the good guy.’”
“What a pig!” Ginger said. “How is that being done with being the good guy?”
“Meaning it turns out he’s engaged and has been good by not cheating. He’s revolting!”
Ginger shook her head, revolted. What an absolutely despicable human being. “So what happened?”
“I told him he was a disgusting pig and that what he did constitutes sexual harassment. You should have seen the fear on his smarmy face! I quit and stalked out.”
“Good. And report him to Madame Davenport. He can’t be on her list of ‘suitable’ men for practicums.”
She sniffled again and nodded.
“I’m so sorry, Sandrine. You’re a great person. He was a rotten egg, the clichéd wolf in dentist’s clothing.”
“Well, I guess it was a good lesson,” Sandrine said. “Just because someone seems like a catch doesn’t mean he is. And I admit I overlooked some red flags because he was so hot and a dentist. That’s on me. I won’t make that mistake again.”
Ginger nodded. “When someone shows you who they are, believe them.”
“Amen,” Sandrine said. She lifted her chin and then popped up. “You know what? I feel much better. Why am I wasting my tears on that walking, talking pile of horse dung? No more!”
“Got that right,” Ginger said. “And I’ll be paying very close attention on my date tonight. Just like I thought Alden was all that and a bag of Doritos just because he looked great and wore expensive suits and threw twenties around. Well, he was lower than low. Everything that matters is inside.”
Sandrine hugged her. “I’m so glad I met you. I hope we stay in touch after the class ends.”
“Of course we will. We’re good friends.”
Sandrine beamed. “I hope your date is amazing.”
Me too, Ginger thought. But then again, no big whoop if it wasn’t. She really would do just fine on her own. The old Ginger didn’t think she had what it took to be a good mother, let alone a single parent. She’d believed she needed a good father for her baby to ensure the best life for him or her. But what her baby needed most of all was love and a devoted mama. Ginger would lavish her child with all that and more. And she had her head on straight, a solid job, good friends and a world of possibilities at her feet.
She didn’t need a father for Bluebell to make up for her own deficits. Now she truly understood that. She wanted Bluebell to have a great dad because Bluebell deserved a great dad. Period.
I’ll be assessing you, Mr. Supposedly Amazing, she thought once Sandrine left and she was back in front of her dressing table.
Of course, it was hardly fair that he had such big shoes to fill, but once you’d experienced what a great man was all about, you couldn’t ever go for less.
Esme padded in and jumped onto Ginger’s bed, spinning around until she was satisfied with her spot.
“Isn’t that right, Esme?” she asked the cat as she put on a little mascara.
Esme raised her front leg and began grooming herself, which Ginger took as a yes.
Chapter Twelve
Ginger’s date was an attractive accountant named Tyler Witowsky. He was the nephew of a woman in Larilla’s book club. Ginger had always been a big reader, and of course, any time someone saw her with a book, that person would always say, with a totally shocked expression, “You read?” Eye roll. Anyway, books were the first topic of conversation. Ginger listed the last five books she’d read, which included a biography of Supreme Court Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg—amazing life—and a psychological thriller everyone had been talking about a few months back. And of course she’d mentioned the book she was reading now: Your Baby’s Development, Week by Week.
“My aunt mentioned that you were expecting a baby,” Tyler said, sitting across from her in Rustico’s, an Italian restaurant in Wedlock Creek. “So things didn’t work out with the baby’s father, huh.”
“Nope. But I’ve started over here in Wedlock Creek, and I feel really positive about the future for myself and the little one. I have a great job, great friends and now a great place to call home.” Technically, she didn’t have a home, but she would. She’d been checking out rentals and there were several options for two bedrooms and even very small houses a good distance from town that she might be able to even buy, thanks to her even better salary—including part-time over the summer while James was gone. She’d see.
“I’m impressed,” he said, his gaze thoughtful on her. “I’ll be honest and tell you that I can’t have kids of my own. A few girlfriends have said thanks, but no, thanks after hearing that.”
She shook her head. “That’s awful. There are so many options for having children. Biology isn’t everything.”
He smiled. “Well, here’s to options.”
She smiled back, and they clinked their sparkling waters. “You were probably taken aback though, when your aunt brought up the idea of going on a blind date with a pregnant woman.” Though now that she thought about it, he probably liked the idea because he couldn’t have children of his own.
“Well, I’ll be honest again. This isn’t exactly a blind date for me. I saw you when you first came to town, so I knew who you were. I was in the Solero Sisters Bakery getting a cake for my parents’ anniversary when you came in and ordered a muffin. Blueberry, I recall.”
Wow. He even remembered her order? “Oh. I don’t remember—I was so distracted by hoping Madame Davenport would take me on as a student that I barely noticed anything else before that.”
Which was true. Still, though Tyler was certainly pleasant looking, if she were honest, she’d confess he was not the kind of guy she’d notice right off. Now that he was sitting across from her, she saw he had nice dark brown eyes, and even though his hairline was receding, she liked the chestnut color. Fine, he wasn’t her type. But her type hadn’t served her well. No
w her type was quality human. That was all.
The waitress came over to take their orders. Ginger had a craving for pasta, something decadent and cream-laden, and ordered the fettuccine carbonara with chicken, prosciutto and peas. Tyler went for the Aegean pizza special, and they also got a starter of garlic knots, which Ginger was craving so bad she could wolf down the entire basket.
Did Tyler pull a Landon Cole, DDS, and scowl and gape at the carbfest of an order? No, he did not. In fact, he said her choices sounded really delicious and hoped they could share a bite or two of their dishes. She liked this guy more and more each minute.
Even if he wasn’t James Gallagher.
“Haley loved prosciutto,” Tyler said, glancing down at the table. His face fell, and unless she was mistaken, tears were glistening in his eyes.
Gulp. Haley must have been someone close to him who passed away. “I’d love to hear about her,” Ginger said. “Were you very close?”
He sighed, and just then the waitress returned with their garlic knots. She immediately popped one into her mouth, then realized she probably should have been more ladylike and pulled it gently apart or taken a bite instead of stuffing her face. But hey, she was pregnant and hormonal and had serious cravings.
“She has the most gorgeous blue eyes,” he said, taking a sip of his water.
Did he say has?
“Everyone who knew I was going on a date tonight told me not to talk about her or even bring her up, but come on, is that realistic? We only broke up six months ago.”
Six months seemed like a reasonable amount of time to have moved on. But then again, Ginger had never been in love.
Well, before now. Before James. And since there was no “them,” there was nothing to get over. It was like being in a perpetual state of...off-balance-hood. So Ginger was hardly one to be judging here.
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