interrupted.
Daphne made a face. “Language, Tippy.”
Tippy Lou snorted. “Sorry, Emily Post.”
Daphne rolled her eyes. “You’re right. I need something more in my life, but not with Clay. Ellery dated him in high school, for heaven’s sake.”
“Not for long, and is she dating him now?”
“You know she isn’t. She’s engaged to Josh.”
“Who has his own aura issues, but he’s not our focus at present,” Tippy Lou said, removing the tea bag and taking a sip. “It’s not like you’ll go to jail for doing the Caldwell boy. He’s legal. If you got an itch, and he’s willing to do a little tickling, let him, for goddess’s sake.”
“I will not,” Daphne said, setting the cup down harder than intended. Sudden tears welled in her eyes. To even entertain what Tippy Lou was suggesting made her feel dirty. Very, very dirty.
And tempted.
The last two years had been hard on her ego. Rex had found someone else pretty quickly. And yeah, it had been difficult seeing him happy with another woman, but Daphne had elected to ignore dating and sexuality and . . . just emotional complication. She’d spent her time traveling to book signings, attending large conventions, and flying into big cities for meetings at large boardroom tables where they set a bottle of water at one’s elbow and then proceeded to talk about obscene amounts of money, production schedules, and foreign rights. She’d gone from wiping up apple juice to nodding her head as if she knew what all those executives were talking about.
Problem was, she’d been Ellery’s mom, Rex’s wife, and John’s daughter for so long that she didn’t know how to be just Daphne. Not to mention she’d never had sex with anyone other than Rex. Being intimate with someone else made her feel as if she might break out in hives. What if she wasn’t good at it? How would she know if she sucked at lovemaking? Were the backs of her knees wrinkly? Her butt saggy? Her vagina stretched out?
She should probably start doing Kegels.
Tippy Lou gave her a soft smile. “You’re so hard on yourself, Daph. You worry about things that don’t matter. I’m not telling you to do something that makes you uncomfortable, I’m just saying life is short, honey. I know people say that all the time, but it’s true. And in that short life, you deserve some happiness, some comfort . . . some good sex.”
“Of course I do, but with the right person,” Daphne said, polishing off her wine. She eyed the bottle and thought about having another glass but decided instead to take it with her. Surely a nice rosé would be good with dinner. “I should get going. I need to get started on dinner. You sure you don’t want to come down and have a bite?”
“I’m good. Enjoy nature’s bounty,” she said, eyeing the crinkled bag of okra. “Including whatever the universe brings you in goodness.”
Daphne rose and set her cup in the old farmhouse sink, tucking the okra beneath her arm. “The universe has brought me plenty of goodness over the last few months. Dixie Doodle is getting her own show, my daughter is engaged and living in Shreveport, and I have a contract on a new house. I’m enjoying nature’s goodness.”
“But you’re not getting off,” Tippy Lou reminded her with a smirk.
“Since you’re so obsessed with having an orgasm, maybe you should screw Clay yourself.”
“That poor child couldn’t handle what I got,” Tippy Lou said, pouring herself another cup of tea.
Daphne laughed. “You’ve smoked too much dope, old woman.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Ellery shouldn’t have come to One Tree Estates.
Driving west had seemed like a good idea a few hours ago when Josh canceled their lunch date. Again. But now she felt like a thirteen-year-old staking out the hot quarterback’s locker.
The gift shop at One Tree Estates had only a few patrons, which made Ellery feel even more exposed. She browsed a rack of snarky wine-centered greeting cards while eyeing the tasting room beyond the sliding barn door.
Maybe Evan was in there pouring wine. Or working in the adjacent distillery, where they made vodka from grapes. Or maybe he was picking up his daughter from school, tousling her ginger curls and laughing about the silly antics of Farting Fredric Mooney, the scourge of the second grade at Hickory Hill Elementary School.
Or maybe Ellery had lost her damned mind for driving an hour and a half away just so she could . . . what? Spy on Evan?
Why was she so intrigued