“Not if you get up and get dressed and tell me what’s going on.”
“Fine.” Olli got herself into a seated position. “This requires hot water and eucalyptus.” She started down the hall to the master bedroom, Ginny in her wake.
She got in the shower, and Ginny sat on the closed toilet in the separate room. While Olli stood in the hot spray, the misty eucalyptus coming up to greet her, her mind cleared. She started the story with, “He didn’t even tell his family about us until one minute before I got there.”
That had caused a slight sting in Olli’s chest, if she were being honest with herself. He’d told her about the picnic five days ago. He’d known she was coming, and he’d belonged to his family for forty-six years. He hadn’t anticipated their reaction to him bringing a woman to their family picnic?
Was he embarrassed of her? Had he been lying every day this week when he said he liked her, when he called her beautiful, or when he held her hand?
If he had, he was a very, very good liar.
“I don’t think Spur would do that,” Ginny said, and Olli realized she’d vocalized every question and all of her insecurities. She hadn’t even started washing her hair yet, either, so she focused on that while Ginny spit out reassurance after reassurance.
Olli got out of the shower and wrapped a towel around herself. Ginny came out and stood just behind her. Their eyes met in the mirror. “You really like this man,” Ginny said softly.
Olli could only nod.
“Come on,” Ginny said, gently turning her. “You go put on something that makes you feel sexy and powerful. I’ll braid your hair, and we’ll make cookies. Then, we’ll take them to Spur and see how he reacts to a gorgeous, brilliant woman who shows up with chocolate.”
Ginny’s dark eyes sparkled, and Olli was so grateful for her. She hugged her best friend tightly, and said, “Thank you, Ginny.”
“Don’t thank me yet,” she said. “I’m going to make you deviate from your recipe schedule.” She nodded as she started to leave the bathroom. “I’ll go make sure you have the ingredients for fudgeys.”
“It’s oatmeal this week,” Olli said, but she knew she wouldn’t win against Ginny. She did love fudgeys, and they were twice as chocolatey as any other recipe Olli had.
She got dressed in the sexy white shorts she’d worn to the picnic yesterday—Spur hadn’t even commented on them—and skipped the navy tank top she’d chosen just for him. Instead, she put on a red t-shirt with a whitewashed heart across the chest and went out into the kitchen.
Ginny looked up from the recipe book and surveyed Olli’s fashion choice. “Those shorts are amazing.”
“Thanks,” Olli said, finally feeling an inkling of a smile returning to her face.
“Sit.” Ginny rounded the island and pulled out a barstool. “Two braids or one?”
“Two,” Olli said. She loved wearing braided pigtails, and she didn’t care if she was a little too old to pull off the look. She wasn’t going to the mall to hang out. She was going to make cookies and maybe walk down to her perfumery, and then go back to bed.
Ginny’s slender fingers were cool and quick, and she braided Olli’s hair while she talked about a man she’d met at the homeowner’s association meeting she’d attended last night. Olli had gotten several texts close to midnight about Curtis, so this wasn’t news to her, but she did ask a few questions.
“You’re dancing around it,” Olli said as Ginny put the rubber band on the end of the second braid. “Are you going out with him or what?”
“Yes,” Ginny said with a smile. She wouldn’t look at Olli as she set the comb on the counter next to the brush. She cut a glance at her out of the corner of her eye. “Tonight, in fact. I also may have told him I had an amazing friend who made the best chocolate fudge cookies in the entire South.”
Olli burst out laughing, and that further cleansed her soul. She stood up and hugged Ginny again, both of them giggling. “Fine. You win. Do I have everything for fudgeys?”
“Yes, you do,” Ginny said. “I took the liberty of getting most of it out.”
“How kind of you,” Olli said dryly. She went into the kitchen and tied an apron around her waist while Ginny took the barstool she’d just been sitting on.
An hour later, she had thirty fudgeys and a new outlook on the week. She could find someone to be her fake boyfriend by Friday. Heck, she could put it out on the Internet tonight and have men calling in the morning. Some people would do anything for a job.
“Good luck,” she said as Ginny took her foil-wrapped plate of fudgeys. “Have fun. Call me tonight, when you get home.” They embraced again, and Ginny left. Olli stood with her hand on the doorknob until her friend got behind the wheel and backed out of the long driveway.
Then she closed the door, retraced her steps to the remaining fudgeys, and stacked three on top of one another for herself. She stood in the kitchen and ate them, trying to decide if she should go to the perfumery or just get back on the couch.
Her doorbell rang, and she turned toward it, expecting Ginny to hurry in and say she’d forgotten something. She didn’t, and the doorbell pealed again. This time, someone with very big hands also knocked on the door.
Olli’s pulse started to bounce around inside her chest, because she only knew one person with big hands who could be knocking on her door right now.
She strode over to it and opened it to find Spur standing there. He balanced a plate of cookies in one hand while his other was about to knock again.