15 Shades Of Pink (3 page)

“I’ll be up around noon. Want to do lunch?” she asked.

I opened the door to the building. “Some of us have to work,” I whispered.

“Oh, you’re no fun.”

“And you’re all fun. We balance out.”

“Add Brady to my list. If he’s ever available, I’m in. We’ll have to check back in a few weeks. Nighty-night, Janey. Love you.” She blew me a kiss and let herself into her apartment.

Glad someone does
. “Back at ya,” I said.

The only reason I tried on seven different outfits the next day was because of the flaky weather report. Sun, rain, hail—make up your mind, weather people. Plus, purple and blue both played up my eyes, but which to choose?

Mr. Mew just looked at me with his big yellow eyes, so he was no help. I went with blue and hoped for the best.

Not that it mattered what I was wearing, I decided, driving to the baseball field. Brady would be a good friend to have. Yep, just what a girl like me needed, another good-looking guy friend. But I left my loose, brown curls down, because sometimes they looked cute bouncing on my shoulders. Or so Miranda told me. And as much as I liked running around without makeup, I put on pale lipstick, eyeliner and mascara. I looked as good as I could without appearing as though I’d tried. It’s a hard balance to strike.

I was hoping Brady wouldn’t be as hot in the daylight, so that maybe I could shake these feelings, but his tight white pants and McGinty’s Bar t-shirt only made his assets more visible. I nodded in approval. Hopefully, he was friends with equally gorgeous men. The mythical ones, who valued personality and humor in a girl over looks. He was so losing this bet.

I waved to him when he spotted me leaning against the chain link fence surrounding the field. He was practicing with his teammates and tossed the ball to the guy on third base, then ran over, leaving a trail of red dust in his wake. I tried to remember the last time I’d made it to third base and I was coming up blank.

“You came,” he said with a smile.

And that hasn’t happened in a while either
, I thought to myself. “Only to prove you wrong.” I wrapped my fingers around the metal links.

“Nope, I think I’m going to have a new T-shirt to keep the ladies in line.”

I tried to swat his arm but he ducked out of the way. “Go sit down and cheer for me. But don’t get too hoarse. I’m awesome; you’ll have lots of cheering to do.”

“Clearly you’re awesome. You have to be, to make it to the bar league, right?”

“Try not to cut yourself with that sharp tongue. I don’t have any band-aids on me.” He shook his head, laughing, and ran onto the field.

Brady was good. He scored three runs, made a couple of key catches, and had a gaggle of girls waiting for him when it was all over. Shocker. But after some casual chitchat, he pushed his way past them and came over to me.

Yes, me—the only girl there wearing sneakers instead of high-heeled sandals, zero jewelry, and a “Wanna Smurf Around” t-shirt.

“Impressive, as promised,” I told him as he sat down next to me on the bleachers.

He jabbed his thumb over his shoulder. “We’re heading to a pub down the street to celebrate our crushing victory.”

He didn’t have to say so, but I knew this is where he was going to put his theory to the test. I should have been nervous realizing I’d soon be trying to charm his friends with my wit and personality. But I knew it was going to lead nowhere, and being right was so much fun. Plus that “She’s Taken” t-shirt would come in handy.

“It’s close enough to walk. You ready?” he asked.

“Let’s do it.”

Eight of us sat at a big table, sharing wings and war stories from our high school sports careers. Or lack of a career in my case. “I’m just saying, how many concussions do you need to suffer on the volleyball court before you realize it’s not your calling? The coaches pawned me off on each other until I finally gave up sports and joined the drama club. And they kicked me out for being too dramatic.”

Brady’s friend, Flynn, just laughed and shook his head. “What kind of volleyballs did you use? I remember them being very soft.”

“True, but the floor was quite hard when the ball hit me and knocked me over.”

Flynn’s eyes swept over me. “You should have moved on to beach volleyball. You certainly could handle the uniform.” Up went a sexy eyebrow. “I could teach you a few moves this weekend. Bunch of us are hitting the beach on the South Shore if you’re interested.”

I almost ducked, hearing the flirty comment sail my way, like an errant volleyball. I looked over at Brady, expecting a told-you-so smirk, but he was frowning. “She can’t make it.” He scratched his head. “She just had a pre-cancerous mole removed. A great big one on her back. It was all hairy. And lumpy. She has to stay out of the sun unless she’s totally covered up.”

My mouth dropped open and I glared at him. Who did he think he was—
me
? And why was he shooing off the very men he’d been trying to set me up with? I excused myself to hit the restroom and jerked my head, signaling him to follow me.

As he caught up to me outside the bathroom, I pretended to fan myself. “Gosh, Mr. Quinn, how could I have forgotten my great big sunbonnet today to shield me from the venomous rays of the sun?” I crossed my arms. “And did you have to make the mole hairy? God. Did I miss the purpose of today’s little exercise?” I tried to sound mad, but he flashed these puppy-dog eyes at me that would undoubtedly get him out of any jam.

He grabbed my shoulders. “I know. I’m sorry. He definitely seemed interested, but he’s no good for you.”

I swatted away his hands. “I’ll decide that for myself once I see if he has six-pack abs or not. And I suspect he does.”

He looked at me, incredulous. “And you say men are the ones after looks.”

“Without money or power, six-pack abs are a nice consolation prize.”

He shook his head. “He’s got the abs—and three ex-fiancées. He left each one within the month before the wedding.”

I leaned back against the wall next to the kitchen. “Cream of the crop you’ve got here for me today. Thanks, Brady.”

“I kind of forgot about that. Normally, I don’t think about all that bullshit. But with you, I have to.”

“Compliment or put down? I just can’t decide.”

“You deserve better than that, Jane. Plus, I’m a little scared of you.”

I slugged his arm and pushed past him into the bathroom. Truth was, none of his friends would do. Not while he was hanging around. But I had to face the facts—if he was trying to set me up with his buddies, he must not be interested in me.
Deal with it
.

He was waiting for me when I came out. People were clearing away from the table and he dropped a few twenties by the check to pay for our share.

“Thanks,” I said.

“I’m lucky I could cover it. I got lousy tips last night because someone was distracting me all night.”

My first thought was Miranda, but then I realized he meant me.

“Hey, I could have set you up with Miranda in exchange. She was definitely interested. It’s not too late.” How much did it suck, saying that?

He looked down at me, and his eyes locked on mine. “I’m not interested.”

I sucked in a little breath. “You’re going to have to explain that to me one of these days.”

He just shook his head. “Maybe one of these days you’ll figure it out for yourself.”

We stopped walking when we reached my car. “So, day one and no success. I’m still dateless. That T-shirt is going to look so cute on me.”

He ignored me. “Good news. My buddy, Dave, is having a barbecue this Wednesday night. Kind of a hump-day thing. How ‘bout I pick you up at six?”

“Should I bring anything? Nothing homemade. I’m not that kind of girl.” Just wanted to get that out in the open.

“Nope. Just your acerbic wit. I’m sure you’ll be serving up rounds of it.”

I really didn’t want our day together to end. In a movie, this is where we’d make an awkward attempt to kiss each other and it would end up being so awesome, we’d tumble into the car only to emerge rapturous and flushed, hours later. Or maybe interrupted by the police in a slapstick scene.  Or aliens in a sci-fi movie. Or a killer in a horror flick. I shuddered, imagining
that
, but I still wanted a kiss.

But he just patted the roof of my car, waiting for me to get in.

So, I climbed in. It was getting late, and duty called at the vet clinic the next day. Poor, furry suckers didn’t know their early morning joy-ride was going to be the end of their manhood. There were three neuters scheduled for the next morning. That’s something a girl needed to rest up for.

“See you Wednesday,” he said.

I waved goodbye, pretending I wouldn’t be counting down the hours. All seventy-two of them.

Brady picked me up in his Wrangler, and I was more excited to see him than the time I saw Santa behind our house the night before Christmas. I hoped this hot, funny guy wasn’t going to just turn out to be make-believe, too. I liked him more and more each time I saw him.

“Did you tell Miranda what you’re up to?” he asked.

“Since she lives across the hall from me I would’ve, but she’s down on the Cape this week at someone’s beach house. Apparently the dry cleaner is the new place to meet hot men.”

“Or at least cleanly-dressed men.”

“I’m sure he’s both. And rich.” I was glad I didn’t have to tell Miranda about my “date” with Brady. She probably would’ve wanted to come along and I wasn’t willing to share. She had enough boys to play with.

Brady slowed the car. “Should we make a detour to the dry cleaner before the party?”

I leaned my head back on the seat and looked at him. “I’m good, thanks.”

He sped up the car. “Miranda sounds very different from you.”

I snorted. “And you didn’t draw that conclusion the other night from looking at us?”

“No, I mean the way she treats men. Like an all-inclusive ticket to amuse her. I’m surprised you’re friends with her.”

I tightened my grip on my purse. “You don’t understand.”

“Of course not, I’m a man. Enlighten me.”

I looked out the window, wondering how much to tell, but still wanting to defend her. “We met when we were kids. I was nine and she was eight. We were both in the cancer ward at Children’s Hospital. Leukemia, only hers was worse. Way worse.”

He reached over and squeezed my hand. “I’m so sorry.”

His hand on mine was like butter on a biscuit—only I was the one melting. I had to remind myself to keep talking. “Yeah, it sucked. But it sucked more for her. My parents were there all the time. I was never alone. But her mom was single; her dad took off before she was born. Her mom couldn’t lose her job, and she could only visit for a little while each day. So, we kind of took her under our wing.”

Brady pressed his lips together. “That must have been so hard for her.”

I nodded. “And then it got worse. I only had to do one round of chemo. She had to do more. I checked out of the hospital and she was still there.” Damn it, tears were pricking my eyes and it was too late to stop them.

“Tissues are in the glove box,” he said.

“Thanks.” I reached for one and blew my nose, knowing how pretty that must look. “I tried to come back and visit her as often as I could. I felt so guilty, knowing she was there, alone. We’ve been friends ever since. No one else really understands what it’s like to go through something like that.”

“And you still feel responsible for her?”

I hadn’t really ever thought of it that way, but he was right. “Yeah, seventeen years later, I guess I still do.” I picked at my thumbnail. “She has a bit of a “live life to its fullest” thing going on, thus her list of conquests. Kids with her type of cancer usually don’t live past forty,” I said, quietly.

He came to a stop for a red light. “That explains a lot.”

I shrugged. “So don’t judge her. And don’t judge me for helping her. It seems like fun and games, but it’s more than that.”

He reached for my shoulder and squeezed it. “You’re a great friend, but don’t put your life on hold just to make sure she lives hers.”

I sucked in a breath. He was wrong. Totally wrong. “I’m not. Not at all. Look at me with you here tonight, trying to wrangle up a date.” I swiped a stray tear off my cheek and put my defensive humor back in full protection mode. I hadn’t told too many people the story I’d just told Brady. But now it was time to change the topic. “So, who are the lucky fellows today, anyway?”

The car behind us beeped, and he pulled his hand away from me and started driving. “Some friends from college. Good bunch of guys, and they’ll love you.”

“Where did you go to college?’

“U Mass.”

“For their fabulous bartending program?”

“Ouch, that almost hurt. No, I got the most useless degree in the world—political science—and here I am, wondering what to do next.”

“Besides counseling dateless women.”

“Soon to be formerly dateless women.”

“Could be your new calling: matchmaker to the hopeless.”

His friend Jack had a fabulous house with a big back yard and a beautiful wife who laid out a spread of food that should’ve been photographed and put on a magazine cover. I would have been happy dating
her
just for the food. But Brady was right, a few interesting friends were there as well, and he made it clear when he introduced me that I was just his pal.

“Go get ‘em champ,” he whispered to me. He went into the house, leaving me outside with Brett the dentist, Tony the roofer, and Zach, who owned a store. We wandered over to a horseshoe pit. I was just glad no real horses were involved. That would certainly have had an ugly outcome.

“Jane’s on my team,” Tony announced. His big, black dog barked his approval and ran over to us.

That made me smile. He was my pick of the bunch, with long, dark hair, a killer tan and muscles to match. And he brought his dog along?
I’m in,
I thought. I grinned at him. “Confession time, before you tap me for your team.”

“Oh, no. You don’t play for my team?” He tried to look serious.

I playfully whacked him. “I’ve never played horseshoes.”