She’d just made it out of the building when Bobby came jogging up to her. He was dressed in his regular uniform of raggedy jeans and a loud T-shirt, this one declaring his passion for zombies. To be fair, her tailored slacks and starched white blouse were her own version of a uniform. Ever since she’d set her sights on becoming a world-class wine expert, she’d dressed for the part, even back when she hadn’t had ten cents to rub together. God bless the Goodwill and consignment stores.
“Hey, Mol, this whole trading-cards thing. Can I get in on that action?”
She didn’t even hesitate. She wouldn’t wish that upon any poor woman. “Sorry, but no.”
“Seriously?” Bobby’s breath still carried the distinctive smoky notes of Cannabis sativa.
She took a step back. “Seriously.”
“Okay.” He shrugged. “See you next week.”
She stopped for a moment to watch him flirt with a young woman standing outside their building holding an armful of books before he went back inside. Had Molly ever been that relaxed, that young? Sometimes it felt as if she’d spent most of her life on a treadmill, running as fast as possible and gaining little ground. But that wasn’t completely true. At twenty-seven she’d already accomplished so much. As long as she stayed on track, there was nothing but success ahead of her.
Which reminded her...it was four-fifteen already, and she had a wine-tasting class at six, which meant she just had time to make it home for a quick shower and change before she had to be at Winesby to do her setup. She’d given the kitchen at the restaurant and wine shop the menu before the classes had begun. Tonight’s tasting was Focus on Red, which she particularly loved.
She made it onto the D train in the nick of time. Not surprisingly, she didn’t score a seat, but she wasn’t so squished that she couldn’t steal another glance at Cameron’s trading card. A brewmaster. A great-looking brewmaster with wavy dark hair, sinfully dark eyes and a mischievous smile. Okay, if he called while she was on the train, she wouldn’t answer. She’d wait. Call him back on her own time. The idea of finding someone she could actually talk to while they were in bed was proving to be very enticing. She just hoped he would be free on Sunday or Thursday, because she honestly didn’t think she could make it much longer with just her vibrator and fantasies of Benedict Cumberbatch to get her through.
Copyright © 2014 by Jolie Kramer
ISBN-13: 9781460336748
RIDING HOME
Copyright © 2014 by Vicki Lewis Thompson
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