Page 20 of Under Daddy's Spell

She shook her head. Only twenty-eight, and she couldn’t keep up with what the kids were saying these days.

“He really is, dear,” Martha stated, throwing in her support. “But in my day, we’d have said he was far out.”

Tessa stifled a laugh at the startled look Georgia threw the older woman.

“You two will be the second and third to know after Angie. She already called first.”

She was only trying to appease them, however. Jordan would be first.

Since he’d left his voice mail invitation to dinner and jazz, they’d spoken twice but she hadn’t given him her answer. She needed to do that, fast, before he got the impression she wasn’t interested.

She definitely was, especially after seeing how he took charge today without hesitating. And how he always seemed to be watching out for her, urging her to run at his gym to stay safe, offering to intercede with Thompson, or dropping by to check on her A/C situation.

He was attuned to everything happening with her, it seemed, the opposite of what she was used to from men. Her dad being the prime example. But was going from checked out to being fully involved in everything going from the frying pan into the fire? She wasn’t sure, but her heart if not her head told her Jordan was worth the risk. ?

Chapter Seven

MIDMORNING ON MONDAY, before the lunch rush hit, Tessa ventured next door to check out The Body Shop with Angie in tow. Interested in joining because of the right-next-door convenience, her barista didn’t protest too much. Like Tessa, she had a fondness for the variety of high-calorie treats in the bakery case, although she had six inches on her boss and lots more room to hide her extra ten pounds, at most.

“Hey, look,” Angie exclaimed as they got swallowed up by the crowd on the sidewalk. “Channel 6 Action News is here.”

Tessa saw the Action News van double-parked farther down the strip in front of JoJo’s Hair and Nail Loft. And she couldn’t help but roll her eyes, seeing none other than the owner, JoJo herself, out on the sidewalk along with her staff and clients—two in foils getting color—gawking at the spectacle.

“Must be a slow news day,” she muttered, “when they cover the opening of a fitness center in a suburban strip mall.”

They made it through the door into the lobby. From there, it was another ten minutes to get inside since, judging by the hats and T-shirts proclaiming the Saints as number one, almost every football fan in the city had turned out.

“I’m going to check out my competition,” Angie announced as she tried to peel off to the right toward the juice bar. Tessa knew this not because she could see over the heads and shoulders of those surrounding her but from the brightly lit sign high on the wall with images of fresh fruit proclaimingJuice Bar.

From the constant whir of a blender adding to the cacophony of noises—shouted greetings, conversation, and laughter—they were likely offering free samples. A smoothie with a scoop of protein was all Angie would find and hardly what she considered competition.

She was about to tell her that, but she’d already squeezed between two Mr. Atlas-sized guests and was out of earshot.

Alone and feeling like a stump amongst a stand of loblolly pines, Tessa stood on tiptoe. But try as she might to see around, over, and between the mass of bodies, she couldn’t find Jordan.

“Can you believe Trent Baker is here?” a young man behind her gushed excitedly. “And Antonio Alfonso?”

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