Free Perfect Summer by Katie Graykowski Page B

grinned. With the white gauze wrapped around his head and the white tape around his chest, he looked like a cheerful mummy.
    “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
    His grin was infectious, and she couldn’t help it. Davis made her smile. A giggle shimmied up her throat and out her mouth. She clamped a hand over her lips. Giggling…she didn’t giggle.
    “Are we going to pretend that didn’t happen too?” Davis took her hand and kissed the back of it. “Uptight, much?”
    She snatched her hand away. “I’m not uptight, I’m reserved. There’s a difference.”
    “If you say so.” He continued to grin. The corners of his eyes had the beginnings of crows feet, just a single faint line. He was too young for her.
    “Me and my uptight self are going to take a shower.” Lilly picked up her overnight bag. “Later, if you’re nice, I may feed you dinner.”
    She walked out of the bedroom, down the main hall, and into the house’s one and only bathroom. The hundred-year-old farmhouse was long on charm and short on convenience—built in a time when barns were more important than bathrooms. She dropped her bag in front of the pedestal sink, turned on the claw foot tub’s hot water tap, and shimmied out of her clothes. A long, hot shower would feel so good, and thanks to the instant-on hot water heater Davis had installed last month, she could take as long as she liked.
    She stepped under the single nozzle spray and let the warmth rain down on her tired body. Davis had called her uptight. She’d show him uptight. A low-cut, cherry-red bra-and-panty set accessorized with a garter belt, stockings, and mile-high, red Jimmy Choo platforms should be enough to make him eat those words. Physically, Davis might not be up to sex, but his eyeballs worked just fine. Uptight women didn’t dress provocatively, even tasteful provocative.
    Luscious hot water poured over her, and she lost track of time. When her fingers were puckered and her body blissfully warm and clean, she turned off the tap and pushed back the curtain. Thick, heavy steam blanketed the room, and she could barely see a foot in front of her. By feel, she grabbed a towel, wrapped it around her, and stepped over the edge of the tub. Stumbling around, she bumped into the toilet and groped around for the sink. Lilly switched on the vent and waited for some of the steam to dissipate. After a minute or two, she could see the foggy mirror. With the edge of her towel, she wiped the layer of moisture off the mirrored surface.
    Running a hand up her neck to check for tautness, she smoothed the skin under her eyes. Her complexion was still bright and unblemished, thanks to Botox, Restylane, and a host of photo facials and laser hair removal. Her eyelift had taken ten years off her face, but she still felt every one of her forty-eight years.
    Age was just a number, right?
    She rolled her eyes. That’s what old people said. Lilly wiped down the full-length mirror on the back of the door. Her pale skin was still supple. She turned to the side and touched her normally flat stomach, which was pooching out a bit today but not too noticeable. She worked out at least an hour a day and watched every calorie, but age was catching up to her. She touched the bump of her stomach again. Getting old and fat—that’s what she had to look forward to, and she needed to accept it. Her periods had been hit or miss for the last year and, two months ago, had finally stopped altogether. She was in menopause. At forty-eight, she was officially an old lady.
    Lilly shook her head. Never. She refused to be old. Or uptight. She unzipped her overnight bag, carefully searched for the lingerie. Her body was still toned, and she was in excellent shape. Davis thought so, and that was all that mattered.
    She slid on the panties, which ended right underneath her pooch. When she got back home, the flab was going back to flat. After sliding her arms through the straps of the bra, she reached behind