“Just don’t get too far into your head, Josie. Try to have fun. Try to remember that this is the guy you loved with your whole heart.” She hugged Josie. “And try to remember that if you marry him you’ll live here and we can hang out and have fun.”
The bakery was too quiet once Annabeth left. All Josie’s fears and insecurities reared up, reminding her how clearly wrong tonight was. She should get out of town earlier, put a few thousand miles between Hunter and her heart, for all their sakes. It was the right thing to do. Her dad was getting better now that he was listening to the doctor. And Lola was around to help keep him on the road to recovery. Now she needed a way out of tonight.
The phone rang. “Pop’s Bakery,” she answered.
“Wear your sexy underwear.” Annabeth’s voice was laced with laughter. “Not your cotton granny panties.”
Josie groaned. “There will be no underwear viewing tonight.” She chewed on her lip. “As a matter of fact, my head is killing me—”
“No, it’s not,” Annabeth argued.
“Yes, it—”
“Stop it, Josie,” Annabeth snapped. “You’re fine.”
“It’s my head. I think I know when I’m getting a headache.”
“Oh, please. You are chicken.”
Josie sighed. “Maybe. A little.”
“Well, that’s just pathetic. I have to get my kicks from naughty texts, while you’re passing up on the real deal.”
Josie’s interest was piqued. “Naughty texts? With who?”
“No one you’d know,” Annabeth huffed in exasperation. “Besides, texts can’t compare to actual kissing and touching. Period.”
There was a pause.
“Does your head really hurt?” Annabeth asked.
Josie closed her eyes. “A little.”
“Fine. Take Advil. Cancel tonight and add it to your list of regrets. Go to bed. Whatever.”
“Gosh, thanks.”
“You can’t expect me to support your life on the sidelines, Josie, you just can’t. Your dad is getting more action than you are.”
“Um, gross.” Josie winced. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Sure, I guess,” Annabeth muttered. “I mean, if there’s anything to tell.”
She hung up, put the cookies away and did a lightning-fast cleanup of the kitchen. She stopped to nudge her father awake before heading to the shower. A long, steamy, hot shower gave her time to consider her options. Lola and Annabeth said to listen to her heart, but Annabeth also said to listen to her libido. Unfortunately, or fortunately depending on how you looked at it, both her heart and her libido were supremely interested in spending the evening with Hunter Boone.
She could cancel tonight, book a flight and leave first thing in the morning. But then she’d be letting people down...again. And, dammit, she didn’t want to be that sort of person. She didn’t want to be her mother.
Okay, fine, then she was staying. She was going on the date with Hunter. And she was not going to overanalyze everything that happened.
Her closet didn’t have much to offer. She’d packed for caregiving and nights in with her dad, not dates or a night on the town. She had one black dress, no frills. A clingy wrap dress that was cut low but traveled well. Her only real option.
She laid the dress out on the bed and opened her underwear drawer. Pretty silky garments or practical cotton foundation wear. That was the real question.
Chapter Eight
Hunter tugged at the collar of his shirt, adjusting the collar and tie for the fifth time since he’d parked in front of Pop’s Bakery. He felt like an idiot. He was too old to be getting dressed up, to feel this tongue-tied and flustered.
Eli was right. What was he thinking? A vision of his fuming, red-faced son didn’t ease the knot in his throat or the twist in his gut. They’d never argued like that, ever. The two of them were thick as thieves, working through any disagreement without losing their cool. He’d raised his son to be rational, looking at a situation from all sides, putting himself in the other person’s shoes and keeping an open mind. And, thank God, Eli was like him—no drama.