Free Already Home by Susan Mallery

with Mr. Blow Your Socks Off.” Violet grinned. “Unless you have other things you want him to blow on.”
    Jenna felt herself blush. She sipped her margarita. “It’s been a long time,” she admitted in a whisper.
    â€œThen we’ll get going on that.”
    â€œBusiness first, sex second.”
    â€œAre you sure you don’t want to reverse those?” Violet teased.
    â€œI have rent to make.”
    â€œFair enough. But when you want the sock thing, just let me know and I’ll find you someone completely inappropriate.”
    Jenna laughed. “I’d like that. It doesn’t sound like me at all and I’m starting to think that might be a good thing.”
    Â 
    Violet pushed her cart through the grocery store. It wasn’t where she usually shopped, but after running a couple of errands in Austin, she’d impulsively pulled into the parking lot of the upscale establishment. Maybe hanging out with Jenna was rubbing off on her.
    With that in mind, she ignored the frozen food aisle and walked purposefully toward the produce. The area was huge and well-lit, with rows of fruits and vegetables neatlyarranged. She saw more types of lettuce than she’d ever seen in one place. Tomatoes were yellow and nearly purple, as well as red.
    She quickly collected salad fixings, grabbed a gourmet salad dressing from the refrigerated shelves, then headed for the fresh pasta section. Tonight she was going to cook herself a real dinner. A real easy dinner, but still, it was progress.
    As she maneuvered her cart, she noticed how nicely everyone was dressed. Men in suits. Women in expensive-looking jackets, with tailored skirts and great shoes. She saw a flash of red sole and stared, wondering if someone really was wearing Christian Louboutin shoes in a grocery store.
    Trying to see the side of the shoe to decide if she liked the style, she wasn’t looking where she was going and came to a shuddering stop as her cart collided with someone else’s.
    She glanced up. “Sorry. I wasn’t looking.”
    The cart’s handler—a tall, suit-wearing guy—smiled at her. “I could tell. What was more interesting than—” he looked to his left and picked up a bottle “—imported olives?”
    She smiled. “Shoes. A female cliché, if there ever was one.”
    â€œShoes, huh? Your thing?”
    â€œI’m more a looker than a buyer. Sorry about the cart attack.”
    She started to go around him, but he maneuvered himself in front of her and gave her a smile.
    â€œWait. I have a question about these olives,” he said.
    â€œWhat makes you think I know anything about them?”
    â€œWomen always have knowledge about anything mysterious.”
    â€œYou think of olives as mysterious?”
    â€œAnd you don’t, which proves my point.”
    He had sandy brown hair and hazel-brown eyes. His expression was friendly and interested without being too aggressive. His suit looked expensive but not crazy. He was clean-shaven, broad-shouldered and normal-looking. Not at all her type.
    She would have excused herself and walked away except she was tired of always getting it wrong. Every guy in her life had been a disaster, probably because when it came to men, her gut didn’t know what it was talking about.
    So maybe she should ignore her lack of interest and see what else the nice man had to say. It was unlikely this one would steal her credit card or buy a car in her name, then not make payments.
    â€œOlives can be difficult,” she said, moving her cart to the side so other people could get by. “Now, when the oil is difficult, you know you’re in trouble.”
    He laughed. The sound was low and pleasant. Easy. As if he were the kind of guy who laughed a lot.
    â€œI’m Cliff,” he said, holding out his hand.
    â€œViolet.”
    â€œNice to meet you, Violet.”
    â€œNice to meet you, too.” She