Page 5 of The Trouble with Sexy (Rock Canyon, Idaho 0.50)

He leaned over her shoulder and whispered, “Well I don’t know if it counts for anything, but I think that you have definitely grown out of your awkward stage.”

She looked up at him. “You really don’t think I’m awkward?”

He stared down at her, drowning in her eyes. “Not at all.”

She swallowed a little. “Gregg, we’re friends right?”

He cocked his head and gave her a small smile. “Of course.”

She twisted her hands in her lap. “And you’ll be honest with me?”

He sat on her desk and nodded. “Sure.”

She cleared her throat and whispered, “Do you think I’m sexy?”

He froze above her and his mind started searching for something to say.

She turned away from him quickly. “I’m sorry, please forget I said anything.”

He hadn’t liked the flash of hurt in her eyes, and blurted, “No! I mean, you just surprised me. I think you have a lot of really great qualities. You’re smart. You’re funny. You are really artistic. You’re attractive. You have a great work ethic. You’re a good person.” He paused and took in her blank expression. “Yes, you’re sexy.”

He could tell by the look on her face that she didn’t believe him, so he continued, “The trouble with sexy is people have different tastes. Some guys like girls in flashy skimpy clothes with big hair and cowboy boots. Other guys think shy girls that are less obvious are more desirable. Some guys check out a woman’s body and others look at her face. It’s all about personal preference.”

“What kind of girls do you like?”

Was she kidding? He didn’t really have a type, unless you counted busty redheads with blue eyes that liked to wear a lot of wool, but he wasn’t about to say that. Besides accepting his kiss at New Years, Ryan had been nothing but professional, and a good friend. He wasn’t going to jeopardize that by opening his big fat mouth. “I like girls who are confident. They need to be funny and like the same things I do—”

She interrupted him. “Yeah, but that’s not what makes you approach her right? Are you a leg man or a breast man?”

“What?” He couldn’t help the bark of laughter that escaped.

“It’s a simple question. Does a girl that walks into a bar wearing a miniskirt get you going or a low-cut top?”

This conversation was leading into some very dangerous areas, but he answered her anyway. “Low-cut top.”

She blushed at his quick reply, and at that moment he’d have given more than a penny to get a real good look at those thoughts.

Chapter Two

RYAN LOCKED UP the studio at five o’clock and gasped as a blast of frigid air hit her face. Maybe it would help to take her mind off the sting of humiliation she still felt from Gregg’s good-natured attempt to spare her feelings. Attractive? Great work ethic? Really? Funny how he’d almost choked when he tried to assure her she was sexy. She knew she wasn’t out-of-this-world gorgeous, but he could have done better than a gargled attempt to save her ego.

Thank God Mr. Francini had come in to ask Gregg to take pictures of some vandalism he was sure had been perpetrated by Mr. Nelson. The two men had been involved in a vindictive feud for the last fifteen years, and were constantly blaming each other for phantom acts of theft and sabotage. Gregg and Mr. Francini had walked out of the studio, and she was left alone to dwell on her very big problem. If she didn’t make a change soon, she was going to end up being the lonely, bitter woman Gregg teased her about: eating ice cream every night, wondering why she couldn’t find someone to love her.

She hadn’t exactly been honest with Gregg. She would have been excited about Valentine’s Day if she had a special someone to share it with. She was tired of being alone, and wanted to find someone. Someone who wanted to get married and have a family, someone who would love her for all her snark and insecurities. But that type of man was hard to come by. Especially when you had the sex appeal of a hermit crab.

She smiled over the analogy and thought of her large cardigans and high-necked tops as her protective shells. Her mother had never thought clothes that were in style were appropriate for her little girl, being too short and too revealing, and she’d urged her to earn respect based on her mind rather than her looks. Ryan had learned the lesson too well. She continued to dress conservatively, even though she’d watched the girls in stylish dresses and boots longingly. She once tried on a tight black dress at Macy’s for a date, and loved the feel of the soft material hugging her body, but all she could think of as she stared at herself in the mirror was her mother’s voice: Guys like a little something left to the imagination. Those are the type of girls they want to bring home to their mothers. She’d put the dress back on the rack and walked out empty-handed.

Her mother failed to mention that mothers might love conservatively dressed girls, but their sons sure didn’t.

She walked toward her Rav4 in The Local Bean parking lot and noticed that Gracie was just coming out of the shop. She was dressed in a tight-fitting red sweater dress, black tights, and knee-high black suede boots. Her blond hair was perfectly flipped, and Ryan was sure that her face was just as perfect. She envied the confident way Gracie held herself, and thought if she just had a little bit of that, maybe Gregg would look at her differently.

Girls like Gracie had always intimidated Ryan. It wasn’t even that they were prettier or that they always seemed to know what to say or do in any situation to have people hang on their every word. It had nothing to do with them and everything to do with how she felt around them. Tongue-tied. Quiet. Shy. She didn’t feel bullied, just never really noticed unless it had something to do with the color of her hair, which bothered her. Her hair seemed to draw teasing comments. More than once she had consi

dered dying the irritating strands, but could never spark the courage.

She’d tried to cope through awkward encounters with other girls with her own sense of snark and humor, but most of them found her strange and off-putting. She’d had a few good girlfriends who understood her, but none of them could help her with her current dilemma. They weren’t exactly . . . sex kittens.

Gracie must have heard her footsteps because she turned to see who was walking behind her. After surveying her, Gracie turned back around, apparently deciding Ryan wasn’t much of a threat. Ryan didn’t know what possessed her, but before Gracie got too far ahead, she blurted, “Excuse me, Gracie? Can I talk to you?”

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