Page 19 of Love Like This

“What do you like to do when you have down time?” Spencer asked,as amazed at the question leaving her lips as she was by the disappearance ofAmelia Earhart when she’d learned about it in the third grade. And why in thehell was she thinking about the third grade during a work session? Where hadthe hard-core, hardheaded version of herself gone, and how did she get herback? This was bullshit.

“Me?” Hadley asked, touching her chest. “Oh. Well, I’m a big crimenovel enthusiast, but lately I’ve been into science fiction and fantasy.”

“You like to read,” Spencer said, happy to learn something newabout Hadley and wanting to know even more, for reasons she would mostcertainly classify later as stupid and a distraction from her larger goals. Regardless,she couldn’t stop herself. “What else?”

“I have a pretty tight-knit group of friends. We go to the beach,meet for coffee each morning. Oh! You know the place. It was the coffee shopwhere we met. Remember? The owner, Autumn, just had twins! They come hometomorrow morning, as a matter of fact, and I don’t know if I’ll sleep tonightfor how excited I’ll be.” She grinned with the purest of joy.

“You seem to get excited by a lot of things. I don’t think I’mwrong about that.”

“You’re not. I’ve heard that before, and I cannot deny theaccuracy,” Hadley said, her eyes sparkling as she shook her head in what seemedto be wonder. “But these babies are a whole new level of excitement. Surelyyou’d agree with that. You’d think these two were mine.”

“I can definitely see you doing well with kids,” Spencer said,reaching for an apple slice.

“And why is that?” Hadley looked intrigued. She reached for herwine as she waited on Spencer’s response. She held it very close to her lipswithout taking a sip. The gesture was…something to behold. Spencer blinked asher body hummed in appreciation. How was someone so sunshiny sweet and also soincredibly sexy?

“I don’t know. I suppose you present with a very definite warmth.It’s not hard to feel comfortable around you, and trust me, I don’t feelcomfortable around too many people.”

“I present with warmth,” Hadley said, straightening in her chair.“I think I like that. Who doesn’t strive to come across as warm?”

“I’m not sure I do.” Spencer heard how that must sound andbackpedaled. “I mean in the scheme of business, it works foryou, the sweet managerthing, which is great, but it would just get me run the hell over. I’m not ablond, blue-eyed California girl. I have to be formidable out there tocompete.”

“You are certainly that,” Hadley said, studying her as though shehad definite opinions on the topic. “You don’t give in easy, as I’ve certainlyexperienced tonight.”

“Well, doesn’t mean I’m that way in all areas of life.” She saidit with a smile and held Hadley’s gaze. It was a mild form of flirting. Evenshe could see that. Hadley, who had ditched the heels hours ago, scrunched upher feet—her toes, to be specific.

“Long day?” Spencer asked, gesturing to Hadley’s feet.

“What?” Hadley glanced down and turned the most impressive shadeof red. Uh-oh. What in the world was that about? “No. Just a habit I have. Afoot thing. It’s stupid.”

Spencer found the blushing to be not only attractive but amusing,which meant she couldn’t stop now. Sometimes she was such a dog with a bone.She dipped her head playfully. “I feel like maybe I’ve hit a nerve, and weshould explore that.”

“Not at all,” Hadley said, as if Spencer were insane. But thescoffing also brought on a glimpse of Hadley’s dimples, which she’d been awareof before but hadn’t seen fully showcased. Now that she had, she felt the heathit her own cheeks, because life was certainly different after one saw them.There was “before Hadley’s dimples” and after. She was finding that after was anice place to be. “But less about me, why don’t we get back to the skirt.”

“The skirt?” Spencer asked, trying to remember the thread fromearlier but failing miserably because what she had her mind on now was so muchmore satisfying. She sipped her wine.

“The knife pleats. The green. Remember?”

“Right. I’ll think about it.”

“You will? Just like that?”

Spencer made a note. “Consider your point made. Not that I likeit, but I’m willing to at least mull over your advice.”

Hadley sat back against the couch, enjoying the possibility of avictory. The dimples blossomed again and Spencer sucked in air. In that moment,she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she might be in a whole hell of a lot oftrouble.

And wasn’t at all prepared for it.

* * *

The beige two-story with the white shutters that stood prominentlyat the end of Westmoreland Street was Spencer’s. Well, technically it was hermother’s, but she’d grown up there, which made it hers by proxy. That2,300-square-foot house was busting at the seams with memories of Spencerracing in and out, hopping on her bike for a spin around the neighborhood or tosell lemonade on the corner. She’d apparently been an entrepreneur from thevery beginning, spending extra time to make sure her lemonade was worthy of theextra fifty cents she charged.

She dashed up the three steps—the second one with the loosebrick—that led to the quaint, covered porch suited for rainy day chatting andlet herself in. The delicious aroma of something savory hit her instantly, andshe took a deep, satisfying inhale. She located her mother in the recentlyredesigned all-white kitchen, still wearing her business suit from work as sheflipped a chicken breast sautéing in the pan.

“Please tell me you’re also making your famous white wine mushroomsauce.”

Sonora Adair turned to Spencer with a hand on her hip. “Therewould be no other way. Now kiss your mama and grab some plates from thecabinet.”

“Yes, ma’am. Hi, Pop,” Spencer said, and tossed her father asmile.

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