Free Love to Believe: Fireflies ~ Book 2 by Lisa Ricard Claro Page B

can it go south? Isn’t that the whole point of the arrangement? To avoid all that awkward stuff?” Rebecca shrugged one shoulder, an elegant move that drew Sean’s eyes from her face to the smooth column of her throat. “Sorry. I’m being pushy and you’re clearly not interested. I’ll be embarrassed about this conversation tomorrow, but tonight the martinis are hard at work on my inhibitions.” The smile she shot his way lit her eyes and warmed him to the point of discomfort. “No worries, Counselor. Hey, do you want that last bite of tiramisu?” she asked, but didn’t wait for his answer before finishing it off.
    “You ready to go?” Sean asked after she set down her fork.
    Her eyes widened. “You’re kicking me out?”
    Sean laughed. “No, I’m driving you home.”
    She reached for her purse. “We have to pay the check.”
    “No,” Sean said. “This is my go-to restaurant when I’m meeting a client for dinner and I already signed off on the bill. They send a monthly statement and Mrs. M pays it from the office expense account. Works just like magic.”
    “You have an M at your office? So you’re just like James Bond, huh?”
    “Give me a British accent and we’re practically twins.”
    He helped Rebecca with her coat, set a generous tip on the table, and laid his hand at the small of her back to lead her to the lobby. He left her sitting on a bench, while he went outside to the valet stand, and returned a few moments later to wait with her.
    “You bought Dante’s car!” Rebecca squealed when the valet delivered the classic 1968 Shelby Mustang convertible, top up, to the front of the restaurant.
    “I did. Like any good Southern boy, I love my truck, but I needed something else for clients, and everybody loves this thing.”
    “Who wouldn’t? It took Dante forever to restore this baby.” She slid into the passenger seat, buckled up, and slid her hand over the dash cluster, ran her fingers around the circular frame of the clock. “She’s pristine. You’re keeping her beautiful.”
    “Dante would kill me if I didn’t.” The engine growled to life. “So where do you live?”
    “In town, on Magnolia Street.”
    “You kidding? I live one street over, on Dogwood.”
    “I covet the houses on Dogwood--the Victorians. Which one is yours?”
    “Seven-fifty-two. It only takes me about ten minutes to walk to the office every day. After what I’ve been used to in the past, I have to say I love the commute.”
    “Lucky. Our office isn’t in town, so I have to drive. I love living in town, though. It’s small enough not to be crowded, and it’s convenient to be able to walk everywhere.”
    “We live a block apart. How have we never run into each other?”
    “Different lives,” Rebecca said, and yawned behind her hand.
    They shared a quiet thirty-minute ride into Bright Hills where Christmas decorations brightened the quaint downtown area. Ornamental snowflakes the size of basketballs hung on the streetlights and glowed from within. The streetlights themselves through the center of town sported garland and festive candy-cane bows, and the storefronts contained myriad holiday displays that ran the gamut from Rudolph and Frosty to Nativity reproductions.
    The window of Brenna’s place, the Lump & Grind, showed off holiday pictures drawn and colored by the students in Maddie’s kindergarten class at Nathan Bright Elementary. Bubba-Jo’s Café maintained a Christmas tree in one window and a menorah in the other, as Bubba was a Bible-thumping Baptist and his wife Jolene a proud Jew. Sean’s office, down the block and around the corner, would be decorated by Mrs. M, whenever she felt the urge.
    The thirty-foot fir tree on the city green would remain dark until Thanksgiving, at which time it would be lit with thousands of colorful lights. The mayor would have the honor of flipping the switch to a chorus of oohs and aahs from those present, mostly families with young kids. Sean remembered