sis.” She hugs the doorframe and swoons. “I’d do anything to see you happy, Iz.”
“I know.”
Laney takes off, and I lean back in my seat.
I’d do anything to see her happy, too.
And I did.
The Black Bear is congested with a flood of amped up girls in extra short skirts and tops that barely cover the northern hemisphere.
Holt’s cologne calls to me, and I scan the bar, but there’s no sign of him.
Baya waves as I step inside, so I go over.
“What gives?” I ask, following her to the back. “Free beer night?”
“More like open mike night.” She holds out a seat for me, and I take it—same dark, distal corner as the last disaster. I’m guessing Laney thinks it’s romantic to tuck me away in no man’s land with the next maniac on her list. “We’re auditioning for a house band. If the boys like ‘em, they can get a recurring gig. It’s something Bryson and Holt have been wanting to do for a while.”
“Nice. A sexy bass player equals lots of revenue from half dressed coeds. Sounds like win-win.”
“Speaking of win”—Baya takes a seat—“I saw that kiss the other night.” She leans in with her eyes bulging like a pair of hardboiled eggs. “Are you sure you need Laney’s dating service? Looks to me like you’re doing just fine on your own.”
I glance at the bar and spot Holt tending to a group of smitten girls at least six years my junior. One of them is Marley, Jemma’s baby sister. Crap. Just looking at the way she’s fawning over him makes me sick to my stomach. Marley is cute and young and the exact kind of girl someone like Holt should end up with. Not the walking bag of issues I’ve become.
“I’m not really on the relationship track right now.” Heat floods to my cheeks as I think about that kiss, about that dream I had last night. If I was into relationships I know exactly where I’d look first. “Anyway, Holt can have whatever girl he wants, and, by the way, I qualify to be his much older sister. We’re just friends. Really, it’s no big deal.”
“Who says age even matters? Did you see the cradle robbing that Edwards senior is partaking in? Emphasis on senior. I’m telling you, that man has socks that are older than ‘Jenny.’”
A dull laugh pumps through me. “Yeah, but he’s a man.”
“So? Break the double standard.” Baya strums her candy pink nails over the table. “If a man can date someone younger so can a woman.”
“Look”—I take in Baya with her perfect hair and flawless complexion—“I’m not really into making new inroads for women’s lib and for darn sure I don’t want to be the poster child for cougars the world over.”
“Chill out, Izzy. You’re not that much older than him.” She reaches over and touches her hand to mine. “I get it. It’s not the norm, so it feels weird. If it’s any consolation, my mom had three years on my dad, and they had one hell of a marriage.”
“Still going strong?”
She sags in her seat. “My dad passed away when I was in junior high.” She inverts her lips as if holding back tears. “But I know for a fact my mom is glad she didn’t let a little thing like their age difference stop her from the best relationship she’s ever had. My brother and I are kind of glad, too.” She reaches over and gives me a brief hug. “You’ll figure it out.” She looks past my shoulder and frowns. “Here we go. Have fun on your date, Iz.”
Baya takes off, and Laney appears in her place. Next to her is a seemingly normal, rather nice looking man—who could be my father. And there’s that. I guess my ageism runs in both directions.
“Cliff Lancaster.” He extends his hand, and I gently shake it.
“Dr. Cliff Lancaster,” Laney whispers with excitement. God, does she really see me with this guy? It’s obvious Laney can’t see past the M.D. in his name to properly observe the fact he’s old enough to be our father. And why do I suddenly feel like introducing myself as Jenny?
“Izzy,” I say it forced in the event my tongue decides to take a U-turn without my permission.
“How about a tall cold one, Dr. Lancaster?” Laney pulls his seat out as if he were a girl. Geez. Note to self, trip Laney for the hell of it tonight, preferably while she’s holding a tray full of cold