Mr Right There All Along. Jackie BraunЧитать онлайн книгу.
already going nuts. You wouldn’t know I’d used this expensive new antifrizz stuff. I want my money back.”
“I don’t know. I think it looks nice. I like it when you leave it curly.”
“I don’t mind curly, but it’s heading toward steel wool. For the reunion, I’m thinking of having it professionally straightened.”
Don’t! He wanted to shout. But he doubted she would follow his advice. So, instead he lifted his shoulders. “Whatever you think best.”
Helga was back with Chloe’s coffee and refilled Simon’s cup.
“I’m considering dying it a different color, too.” She smiled at their waitress. “What do you think? Should I attempt blond?”
Helga issued that rude sound again. Before stalking away, she said, “Keep what God gave you.”
To Simon, Chloe said, “I think God could have been a little more generous in certain areas and, well, spread the wealth in others, if you know what I mean.”
“You wouldn’t look good as a blonde.”
She frowned. “I thought you liked blondes? The last three women you dated all looked like they just stepped out of the California sun.”
True enough, he realized, although it hadn’t been intentional. They’d been available and interested and, well, since he’d been available … He didn’t like how that made it seem, though he’d never pretended to have deep feelings for any of them. Nor had he made any promises.
He wasn’t his father … a man who made promises, vows even, with the ease of a politician, only to break them, as wives one through five could attest.
“Simon?” Chloe was staring at him.
He pulled himself back to the present. “Your coloring is all wrong for blond hair. You’re too fair.”
“That can be changed, too.”
He didn’t like the glint in her eye. “Please tell me you’re not thinking about tanning again. Remember what happened before senior pictures.”
She shuddered, making him sorry to have brought it up. She’d gotten the bright idea to lie under the heat lamp her grandmother kept to warm new litters of Persian kittens, and had wound up burned to the point of blistering on her cheeks and the bridge of her nose.
“Not tanning per se,” she murmured, but before he could question her further, she asked, “Will you be going for your usual run tomorrow morning?”
He frowned at the change in subject. “Why?”
“I was thinking of joining you.”
He couldn’t help it. His brows shot up. “Are you going to run?”
She wrinkled her nose, a sign she was insulted. “You don’t need to look so shocked. Haven’t you pestered me since Nana’s heart attack to do more cardio conditioning?”
He had indeed, worried that Chloe’s addiction to comfort food might take her down the same hardened-arteries path as her seventy-four-year-old grandmother. But he knew Chloe’s sudden decision to listen had less to do with his persuasive abilities than their upcoming class reunion. He almost called her on it. But the truth was, he liked the idea of having company during the runs he took four mornings a week.
“We can meet in the park at eight,” he said after a moment.
“Great.”
Her smile lasted until Helga arrived with their food. The cream-cheese-laden bagel beckoned. The way she swallowed before sucking in her bottom lip told him as much. Whoever had been manning the knife in the kitchen had been generous with the topping.
“Anything else?” Helga asked, her meaty hands resting on a pair of what Simon remembered a great-aunt referring to as good child-bearing hips.
No way he was going to point out that his so-called fresh fruit cup looked suspiciously like the syrup-drenched cocktail variety that came in a can.
“No. We’re good.”
More than half of the bagel remained when Helga brought the check. Chloe considered that a victory of the highest order. She’d actually sat on her hands to keep from finishing it off. Whatever it took, she was willing to do it. She had her eye on the prize.
“You promised me a walk,” she reminded Simon.
“So I did. And I never renege on my promises,” he replied. He always looked surprisingly serious when he made comments such as that, and now was no exception. “Do you have a destination in mind?”
“How about that little bookstore just off Fifth? We haven’t been there in a while.”
It was one of the few independent shops of its kind left in the city. And while Chloe had nothing against the big stores that held every title and obscure periodical under the sun and housed trendy cafes where patrons could get a good, if pricey, cup of coffee and read their purchases, she was especially fond of this place. It was the clear underdog. Chloe knew how that felt.
“Sure.”
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