Page 42 of A Lesson for Laurel

Jealousy was a new emotion for Easton. Or at least in adulthood.

As a child, he’d always wanted what his cousin had. A family that cared.

He got it when his aunt and uncle took him in and he never took it for granted.

But jealousy over a woman had never entered his mind.

He always felt if the woman didn’t choose him, then so be it. He wasn’t begging anyone. Could be why Rachelle got so snotty when she’d left him.

He wanted to argue that she broke it off, not him.

“This pizza is good,” Laurel said thirty minutes later, reaching in for another piece.

“Sure your hands are clean enough?” he asked. “You didn’t chip a nail, did you?”

She turned her hand around and looked at her pale pink nails. “Nope. They look good. I should get them done again soon. These have lasted pretty long. Especially considering the amount of work I’ve done with them.”

Laying pavers and fixing his dishwasher. He couldn’t tell you the last woman he dated that would know the first thing about holding a conversation about those things let alone offering to help or even watch.

“I like how natural they look. Not that it’s my choice or decision, just a comment.”

“They are my nails,” she said, turning and showing him. “I’ve had fake ones before, and have no issues with it. It’s a personal preference, but they can get in the way. I’ve got nice nails, but I just like them to be stronger so the polish doesn’t chip.”

“Have I said I like that about you?”

“Like what?” she asked, taking a big bite of her pizza and then wiping her mouth.

“That you look like a woman. You can dress up, dress down, doesn’t matter, but you pull off feminine yet you’re not weak. That’s sexy.”

“That might be one of the best compliments I’ve ever gotten,” she said. “Growing up, I was the hot tomboy. Let me tell you, the girls didn’t like it.”

He laughed. “I bet. You were the competition to get the guys that liked arm candy and then those that like someone to toss a football around with.”

She pointed her finger at him. “There you go. I didn’t care if I got dirty or not. If my makeup was rubbed off or I broke a nail. I might swear about breaking the nail, but I wouldn’t let it stop me from having fun.”

“Your ex liked the way you looked but not acted?” he asked.

“Pretty much,” she said. “I thought we talked about this.”

“We did,” he said. “Just conversation.”

“They didn’t like my job either. His mother loved me when we first met. I looked the part at their country club. I could talk the way they wanted and had the manners they were looking for.”

“Sounds like snobs to me.”

She snorted. “Yep. And if I made a noise like that, they’d turn their nose up at me too. It was a lot of work, but I guess I just wanted to impress them. I told myself I didn’t have to live with them, just make nice for a short period of time. Philip never cared in the beginning that I liked sports or could carry on conversations with men.”

“Bet he thought he had a prize there. A woman all the guys wanted and one that could hang with the boys.”

“That was it,” she said. “But when he got a flat tire one night and I said I’d take care of it—oh man, you should have seen his face.”

He burst out laughing. “Tell me you’re joking.”

“Nope. I did it. Faster than he could have gotten someone to come out and do it. He was so embarrassed. Really appalled. He kept arguing that he paid for a service for that.”

“I bet he was more embarrassed at the thought of anyone seeing you doing it and him watching.”

She giggled some more. “I picked on him about it but then tried to say he could explain it that he was confident enough in his masculinity and was an equal opportunity man that a woman could do it too.”

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