“Pointer sisters? I’ve never heard them called that,” I get out through a giggle.
“Well,” she begins with a haughty sniff, “that’s because most of your generation lack class and tact. It’s one thing for me to use the word nipples with Abe when we’re alone, but quite another to be out and about using the word in front of other people. My pointer sisters situation is no one’s business but my husband’s. And don’t get me started on that horrible, wretched P-word,” she hisses. “Again, what you refer to it as in the privacy of your bedroom is up to you, but calling it that in public is just appalling.”
I may need a little brain bleach. The idea of Millie and Abraham Andover using dirty words in the bedroom is something I never want to think of again.
“So, hair down?” I ask, steering the subject back to safety.
She studies me silently as she takes a sip of her wine cooler. After she swallows, she nods. “I suspect Tyler will enjoy seeing you with your hair down.”
I one hundred and ten percent know my face is turning a flaming tomato-red.
“Millie! He’s my boss.”
“He’s your very attractive boss,” she answers. “Don’t think I didn’t notice the way you two were looking at each other the other night. There’s chemistry there.”
“I repeat, he’s my boss.”
“And I’m your neighbor. Try telling me something I don’t already know, child.”
“Well—”
“Long-winded speeches about things you don’t think are appropriate will just have to wait,” she scolds. “He’ll be here any second. Go fix your hair.”
Looking at the clock, I see she’s right. “You win this time, but we’re going to talk about this and soon. You can’t play matchmaker between us.”
She raises her bottle in acknowledgement but stays silent, so I turn and head down the hall to the bathroom. I don’t even know why I follow her advice on the hair front, but I do. I work quickly to take out the six bobby pins that are holding my half-up style in place. Once I’ve set them all back in the medicine cabinet behind the mirror, I brush my hair until it hangs below my shoulders just right, like a shiny, raven waterfall. Giving myself a quick onceover in the mirror, I nod at my reflection. I’m a little flushed, but I’m going to pretend that’s because I’m in a rush. Not because my hotter-than-sin boss is coming to get me.
When I hear a firm knock on the front door, I let out a nervous squeak. Giving myself a stern look in the mirror, I set my hand on my stomach and take a deep breath. It’s not like he’s here to take me to prom, for God’s sake. I shouldn’t be so keyed up. I see him every day, both at work and at home, when he stops for a chat each night when he’s out walking Boo. I need to chill out and remember tonight is about new friends going to a bar to have dollar drafts. I repeat the same thing to myself through three more deep, cleansing breaths before I square my shoulders, turn, and leave the bathroom.
He’s just inside the door in the living room, talking to Millie. Tonight, he’s in black jeans and a black T-shirt, and he’s not shaved the five o’clock shadow he starts to get at the end of each day. When he hears me coming, he turns my way. I had a mental debate about what to wear tonight, and in the end, the knowledge that I’m going out with my co-workers trumped any desire I had to wear something a little dressier. Thus, I’m dressed relatively simply in a pair of black jeans that are tight but not “oh my God, why is that girl showing us her business?” tight, a pale-pink off-the-shoulder top that tucks into the jeans, and my new favorite pair of black wedges. So, stylish, but not club. The way Tyler’s eyes sweep over me from head to toe has me pretty sure that in his opinion I look good.
“Your hair is longer than I imagined,” he murmurs as I walk toward him.
I stop and reach up with my right hand and smooth it self-consciously. “Is it too much?”
He shakes his head as he takes three steps toward me. Frowning, he stops in his tracks and shoves his hands in his pockets. “No,” he says, his voice gravelly. “It’s beautiful. You’re beautiful.”
We stare at each other for a second. When Millie clears her throat, I feel a blush spread over my cheeks. I don’t think I’ve ever been a big blusher, but since meeting Tyler, it’s like I’m powerless to stop it. I know darn well it’s just giving Millie more ideas too.
“You better go before all the good parking spots are gone,” she says. I wonder if Tyler notices her tone is laced with amusement.