“I give it another month,” her dad said. “Two, tops.”
“Why? I thought you said she seemed nice.”
“Oh, she’s all right, if you’re into leggy blondes. It’s just that this thing Jase has going with—Whitney’s her name—let’s just say she’s all wrong for him. You know your mother’s talent for reading people? Well, she says it’s healthy for Jase to sow some wild oats before he finally settles down. And I agree with her.”
A twinge of guilt shot through her, because it didn’t bother her one bit, hearing that this...this Whitney was all wrong for Jase. If you had an ounce of decency in you, you’d want him to be happy.
“What do you mean, she’s all wrong for him?”
Liam shrugged. “She isn’t you.” He turned into the inn’s drive. “So of course it won’t last.”
Another eddy of guilt swirled through her. And right behind it, a glimmer of hope.
Because oh, how she wanted her dad to be right!
“IT’S SO SWEET of you to do this for me, Jason.” Whitney giggled. “You’ve been so sweet about chauffeuring me around that I don’t feel the slightest bit helpless.”
“Helpless? You?” Jase laughed. Somehow, she’d managed to keep her sweet and sensitive side intact, even while working with the associates and partners at a high-powered law office. Everyone in his life knew how much he disliked being called Jason, yet Whitney had never referred to him any other way.
“You really don’t mind spending your entire day helping me run errands?”
She’d asked, and given him ample opportunity to say no. Wouldn’t be right to hold her feet over the fire now, just because boredom had him counting all the things he could be doing instead.
“I know what it’s like when your car is in the shop.” Not exactly an answer to her question, but it beat hurting her feelings with the truth.
“I can’t believe all this traffic! It’s three in the afternoon. On a Thursday. Why aren’t people at work?”
“We aren’t,” Jase said, chuckling.
“No. No we aren’t, are we. And I’m one hundred percent grateful that you took the day off, just for me!”
Her good-natured disposition was refreshing, especially compared with other women he’d dated: the librarian, who couldn’t talk about anything but books; the boutique owner, who tried—and failed—to dress him like a Gatsby character; the PE teacher who ate nothing but nuts and grains...and expected him to follow suit; and the pièce de résistance, the cellist with the Baltimore Symphony Orchestra, who thought he’d appreciate sitting in her living room...while she practiced her portion of Johann Pachelbel’s “Canon in D Major.”
“It’ll be so nice, having my watch back again.”
Whitney giggled, a pleasant enough sound, but it didn’t begin to compare with Lillie’s musical laughter. Jase flinched inwardly. It had been months since he’d had a positive thought about Lillie. Better clear your head, fool...
“I rarely wear mine anymore,” he said, steering into the right lane.
“I must seem like a dinosaur. Everyone but me uses their cell phones these days.”
“Yeah, but when you want to know what time it is, all you have to do is glance at your wrist. The rest of us have to find our phones.” Whitney was one of the most pulled-together women he’d had the pleasure of knowing. So why did she feel the need to defend herself all the time?
Because you’re doing something to make her feel that way. What, he couldn’t say.
“At least this stop kills two birds with one stone.” Whitney unbuckled her seat belt. “You know, since the Flower Basket is right next door to St. John’s Jewelers.”
In the rearview mirror, he saw a red SUV. He’d parked beside it enough times to recognize it as Lillie’s dad’s. Liam had probably decided to grab a bouquet for Amelia as an early Mother’s Day gift. Jase backed into a space directly across from the shop’s entrance as Whitney said, “I can’t decide whether to get Patsy a green plant or a spray of roses.”
Her best friend, who’d been at Johns Hopkins for nearly a week.
“I’m sure Patsy will be happy with either.”
And that was when he noticed someone in Liam’s passenger seat.
Not just someone.
Lillie.
His heart beat a little harder.
“I’m thinking a plant—” Whitney continued, one hand on the door lever “—so she can take it home with her. Which, unless she spikes a fever or something, should be in a day or two.”
“Yeah. Mmm-hmm. Right,” he muttered, watching as father and daughter exited the car.
The shop was cute—as flower shops went—and small. No way could he avoid running into Lillie in there. Or introducing her to Whitney. She’d been gone more than a year, no note, no call, not even a text message. For all he knew, she’d moved on, too. So why did he dread seeing her after all this time? And why was his heart beating double-time now?
“Wouldn’t it be better to take care of your watch battery first? You know, so the plant won’t sit in the hot car and, uh, wilt?”
That giggle again. And then Whitney placed her hand atop his on the gearshift. “It’s May, Jason, and seventy degrees, not ninety.”
“Yeah, but the sun is beating down like it thinks it’s August. Only takes ten minutes for the truck’s interior to reach one hundred degrees on a day like this.”
She wasn’t buying it. If he didn’t do something quick, he’d find himself in the Flower Basket, introducing his could-be fiancée to his ex-fiancée.
Whitney made a habit of putting her cell phone into his console’s cup holder, and he used it to his advantage. In one swift move, he backhanded it to the floor.
“Aw, man, sorry, Whit.”
She frowned—or as close to a frown as the always-pleasant Whitney got—and leaning forward, said, “No harm done, Jason. The floor is carpeted.”
For safe measure, he reached for it, too. But instead of retrieving it, he batted it under the passenger seat.
“Aw, man. I’m such a klutz!”
While she bent down, patting the floor mat in search of her phone, Jase looked up...
...and saw Lillie.
And his heart beat like a parade drum.
Her long auburn waves were chin-length now, and in place of her customary jeans, T-shirt and sneakers, she’d worn a gauzy calf-length skirt that billowed with every puff of the wind. She had on matching yellow shoes that looked like ballet slippers and a puffy-sleeved blouse with ruffles at the wrists. She still walked like a woman who knew where she was going, head up and arms swinging slightly. Marilyn Monroe–style sunglasses hid big eyes that couldn’t decide if they were brown or green, and if he knew Lillie, she’d applied a hint of shadow and just enough mascara to showcase those long lashes.
“There,” Whitney announced, “got it. Finally!”
He half ran to her side of the pickup and opened the passenger door. “First stop, jewelry store?” Taking her hand, he helped her to the pavement.
Grinning, she pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. “All right, Jason, whatever you think best.”
With