Free Love, Lies and Texas Dips by Susan McBride

like it was the greatest idea since instant messaging.
    Kent cocked his head. “I’m sure his brilliant idea was merely a ploy to keep in touch with you, Mrs. Dupree. Apparently, once upon a time, he was pretty infatuated with you.”
    Ginger couldn’t believe it when her always poised grandmother blushed. “You flatter me, dear boy.”
    Oh, this dude was smooth, all right. Apparently, he did take after his silver-tongued grandfather after all.
    “I’m the one who should be flattered … by your interest in my art, I mean,” Kent said, ducking his head modestly. “I’ve no doubt Gus twisted a lot of arms here in town, because my paintings are selling really well and ending up in amazing private collections. I’d like to believe he’s so involved in my art because he imagines I’m that good, but I have a feeling it has more to do with his wanting to keep an eye on me.”
    Rose chuckled. “He’s a smart man, your granddad.”
    “He’s certainly got an eye for beautiful things, though I think that runs in the family,” Kent said, and smiled at Ginger.
    Give me a break!
    Ginger cleared her throat and picked up where she’d left off before her grandmother had interrupted them. “So you went to Caldwell for middle school before you left the Wild West for Ivy League turf. Maybe we crossed paths, because there’s something about you—I don’t know. I feel like we met a long time ago.”
    Kent’s smile evaporated, and he shifted weight from one Gucci loafer to the other. “Um, well, I was only at Caldwell until the sixth grade before my father shipped me off to Rockhurst. Could be we ran into each other at some event or other, since our families run in similar circles.”
    “I guess,” Ginger said. It sounded plausible enough, even if she didn’t believe that was it.
    “Surely, I would’ve remembered if we’d met.” His gazelocked on hers, and this time it was Ginger who felt flustered. “You’re very different from most girls,” he remarked, and seemed to take her in from head to toe. “You’re not so … obvious.”
    “You mean, I’ve actually got clothes on, and I didn’t buy half my body parts,” she replied, earning her a chastising “Ginger!” from Deena.
    But Kent just laughed. “I can already tell that capturing you on canvas is going to be quite challenging.”
    “In a good way, of course,” Ginger teased.
    “A very good way.”
    Maybe it was her imagination, but Ginger thought he seemed a little too eager; sort of like a boy who’d had too many Krispy Kremes and now hungered for an organic blueberry muffin. Or perhaps like a boy who felt guilty and wanted to make up for it.
    “Wonderful,” Rose drawled, interrupting them. “It’s settled, then. How about we schedule the first sitting for tomorrow evening at, say, eight-thirty, if that works for you, Kent. Do you have a studio?”
    “I’ve been working out of the sunroom at my parents’ house, Mrs. Dupree, and I believe Mother’s throwing a dinner party tomorrow night, not that I’m invited.” Kent shrugged. “My father has business partners flying in from Japan.”
    “Ah, I see. Well, perhaps we can arrange something else,” Rose suggested.
    Like, maybe another night and another time?
    “Um, excuse me, Grammy,” Ginger butted in, not really appreciating the way they talked as if she wasn’t even there. “But I have my first Rosebud meeting tomorrow at seven atthe Glass Slipper Club. I can’t be there and do the sitting, too.”
    “Pish posh,” Rose Dupree said, and dismissively waved a blue-veined hand. “That initial meeting’s merely a formality. It won’t take all night. It never lasts longer than an hour or so, does it, Deena?”
    “Never,” Deena dutifully agreed.
    “But I already have plans,” Ginger tried to beg off. She wanted to go to the first Rosebud meeting with Mac and Laura, and definitely didn’t want to carpool with Deena any more than she wanted to return to her grandmother’s