All Summer Long

Charlie laughed. “A man with a plan.”

“I wasn’t the only one. Diane talked to me about my future. She pointed out I couldn’t be a model forever. She’s the one who suggested I go to college. Think about my future.” His smile faded. “She was killed five years ago in a car accident. I was on a shoot when I got the call. She was a force of nature and then she was just...gone. I never got to say goodbye.”

“I’m sorry.” Charlie put down the second half of her wrap.

“Thanks. I still miss her. The pain is different now. Not so sharp. But it’s still there. She was the best thing to ever happen to me.”

Charlie knew better than to offer some stupid promise that things would get better, or that he would be fine. Sometimes a person simply had to sit with the pain and deal. That was probably healthier than what she’d done, which was try to pretend it had never happened.

While loss and betrayal were different, they both left scars.

Clay picked up his wrap. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to get into all that with you.”

“I’m happy to listen.”

Maybe it was an illustration of how twisted she’d become, but she almost envied Clay. At least he’d loved once. She never had and wasn’t sure she wanted to. Loving someone meant engaging in a level of trust she wasn’t comfortable with. But belonging like that sure sounded nice.

“Part of the reason I wanted to settle here when I retired was to be near my family,” Clay said. “In the past couple of years, I’ve wanted to be closer to them.”

Charlie couldn’t help grinning. “Retired? You’re what? Thirty?” She grabbed a fry then held it up in the air. “I know, I know. Being a butt model is a young man’s game. You told me.”

“Beauty fades.”

She took in the dark eyes, the firm set of his jaw, the broad shoulders. His was still in full force.

Conversation shifted to more neutral topics. They finished their lunch arguing if the Dodgers would ever make it to the World Series again and whether or not the L.A. Stallions had a chance at a winning season.

“Stallions not Raiders?” Clay asked. He took the last bite of his wrap and waited.

“I know Oakland is physically closer, but I’ve always been a Stallions fan. I can’t explain it.”

Wilma appeared with the bill. Clay grabbed it before Charlie could.

“I’ve got this,” he said.

“Make sure you leave a big tip,” Wilma told him.

“Yes, ma’am.”

The old lady grinned, then ruffled his hair. “You’re not bad, kid. You can come back.”

When she left, Clay leaned toward Charlie. “Does she really get a say in that?”

“This is Fool’s Gold. There are very strange rules in play.”

He’d left a couple of twenties for what she knew to be a twenty-five-dollar tab, then stood. “Thanks for lunch,” he said.

“Thank you. With a tip like that, Wilma is going to be sending you personal invitations to return.”

“The food was good.”

She rose. “If you want, I’ll go over the application paperwork with you. To make sure everything is correct.”

“I’d appreciate that.” He pulled out his cell. “Want to give me your number?”

She nodded and rattled it off, knowing the hostess would be spitting nails if she knew. The difference was, Charlie wasn’t interested in dating Clay. But then maybe the hostess didn’t want to date, either.

They walked to the front of the restaurant, then out onto the sidewalk. Her truck was parked in front.

“That’s me,” she said, pointing.

“Okay. I’ll finish the application tonight and then call you.”

She started to say that was fine, but before she could form the words, he leaned in and kissed her on the cheek.

“Thanks,” he murmured and walked away.

She stood there, on the sidewalk, her cheek all tingly and her insides doing some kind of fertility dance. Even someone with her lack of experience got the message. She was attracted to Clay. Sexually attracted. Based on how quickly she was thawing, after a few more meetings she would be reduced to a screaming, sobbing groupie.

It was just her luck that after literally a decade of not having a single erotic thought, she found herself attracted to possibly the best-looking man on the planet.

* * *

A COUPLE OF days later, Annabelle Weiss slipped into the booth at Jo’s Bar and smiled at Charlie. “I invited Patience McGraw to join us. Do you know her?”

Charlie watched the pretty brunette walk through the door and pause for a second before heading to them.

“Sure,” Charlie told her friend. “Sometimes she cuts my hair.” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Annabelle glance at her short hair. Charlie rolled her eyes. “Stop it. Yes, I do get my hair cut professionally.”

“And it looks adorable.”

Charlie knew that adorable wasn’t a word that could ever be applied to her, but she accepted the comment in the spirit in which her friend meant it.

Patience approached their table. “Hi, Charlie,” she said, sliding into the booth.

Patience had grown up in Fool’s Gold. She had a daughter, Lillie, and was divorced.

“Hi, yourself,” Charlie said. “How’s it going?”

“Good.” Patience had big brown eyes and a sweet smile. “Were you waiting long?”

“I just got here,” Annabelle said. “Charlie is always hungry, so she was early.”

“I’m not always hungry,” Charlie muttered.

Patience laughed. “I was dawdling, I’m sorry to say. There’s this retail space I have my eye on.”

Annabelle drew in a breath. “You’re going to open your own salon? Does Julia know?”