Melody glanced around to see if anyone had overheard.
Ginny stared at the ceiling. “No one’s listening except me and God, so spill. Are you and the fire chief burning up the sheets yet?”
She waited until they’d cleared the church before answering. “Am I not allowed to have dinner with a man without causing all sorts of speculation?”
“Sure, if it was just dinner, but I’m not blind. Ever since he hit town, the fire chief’s been eyeing you the same way Mr. Cranston’s Saint Bernard eyes Mrs. Kendall’s miniature dachsund—like he wants to gobble you up. In one…big…bite.”
“Ginny, am I a dog in this analogy?”
“Hey, we’re all animals when you get right down to it.”
“Yeah, well”—she kicked a stone off the sidewalk and frowned—“if anyone’s a dog, it’s him. Yes, we had a lovely dinner Friday, but due to the crash on the double A, the evening ended at my doorstep. Last night he came over after his shift, we unleashed our animal sides and ‘got right down to it,’ as you say. This morning I woke up alone, on my sofa, with a note stuck to my forehead that read, ‘Thanks for the booty call.’”
Ginny stopped cold. “He did not stick a thank-you-for-the-booty-call note on your forehead!”
“No. But he might as well have. The note said ‘Sweet dreams,’ and he left it on the coffee table, propped up against an empty beer.”
“Aw. That’s kind of cute.”
“‘Cute’ is not the word. Why didn’t he wake me up and say good-bye properly?”
“Um…because he wanted to let you sleep?”
“Okay, fine. If he’s such a gentleman, why didn’t he say something in the note about seeing me again?”
“Mel, you were in a long-distance relationship too long. Josh isn’t in New York or DC. He’s right here. Right there.” She stood on her toes and pointed down the street to the firehouse. “You know where to find him. He knows where to find you. There’s no need to pin down every detail. Relax and go with the flow. You want to keep things simple and easy, right?”
Yes, she sure did, and she needed to take a step back here, because they weren’t getting involved. They were having fun.
She started walking again, toward her parents’ house for the obligatory Sunday lunch. Ginny had a standing invitation, especially since her parents had taken early retirement and moved to Florida.
“So, when we’re getting together next is a detail I should let work itself out?”
“I think so, but if you want to plan a date, you can call him and ask him if he’s free.”
Melody cringed at the notion. “I know I’m in the minority here, but given that our last ‘date’ consisted of sex, sex, and more sex, I feel a little bit like a slut asking him for another one.”
“You might have to unlace your corset first, Miss Melody.”
She laughed. “Fine. I’m old-fashioned. I’ve been out of the dating scene for, um, let’s see…my whole life. I get what you’re saying, though. Basically, I shouldn’t take offense at waking up this morning all alone, with no next date firmed up.”
“Were you expecting him to spend the night?” Ginny looked at her with something like pity in her eyes.
“I don’t know—”
“You’d planned on breakfast in bed?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not a complete moron.”
“Afterward, a bended-knee proposal?”
She laughed. “All right. I hear you. We’re casual. I can d
o casual.”
“Good.” Ginny giggled back. “’Cause I bet Josh does casual real well.”
“No doubt. Casual defines his entire situation here.”