Free Burning for You by Michele Dunaway Page B

her and called Joe back.
    “I’m home,” she said when he answered, figuring he’d read the caller ID.
    “Good. Sorry. Pet peeve. And you’re a dangerous driver.”
    The hair on the back of her neck rose. “I am not.”
    He laughed, a deep, robust chuckle that did little to reduce her hackles. “You forget I rode with you twice. The first time you had an excuse. The second time not so much.”
    He let the silence fall, as if picturing her fuming. She refused to dignify him with an answer. “I spoke to my mother,” he finally said. “She’d love to have family photos done. We’re a go. Also, I want to set up the first of the burn book shoots.”
    “You move fast.”
    “In my line of work, you make decisions quickly. No need to waste time. When I see something I want, I go for it, and you are something I want.”
    She didn’t know how to respond to that either. Her skin heated despite being under a direct blast of AC. “Well, okay,” she mumbled. “Let me grab my calendar.”
    She rose, went to the kitchen table, and tugged the Humane Society pocket calendar out of her purse. Having a thing for cats, she’d donated five dollars in response to the direct mailing. The plastic protective cover rustled. “Okay, I just need a pen.”
    “You don’t just use your phone? You scrolled through it last night.”
    “I do, but only after I write it down on hard copy. I always know where my calendar is. I misplace my phone all the time. It’s a comedy as I try to find it. Okay, I’m ready.” She heard muffled voices in the background, then silence. “Are you there?”
    Nothing. No answer.
    “Hello? Hello? Are you there?” She checked her phone screen. All five circles were full, so she had more than enough signal. “Hello?”
    “Yeah, I’m here.” More muffled noise, and then as if the phone was away from his ear, “Yes, I will. Just let me finish this call.” She could tell he wasn’t talking to her. A few more seconds of silence and he was back. “Sorry about that.”
    Taylor frowned. “Are you at work?”
    “No. Nephew’s birthday party. He’s four.” A pause and then, “Hey! Stop that. I’m on the phone.”
    She again heard muffled noise. Clearly, Joe didn’t have the phone to his ear. “Joe?” She waited. “Joe?”
    “What? Yeah. Sorry. My nieces and nephews don’t understand that you can’t hit a man with a squirt gun when he’s on the phone. I should be good now.” She heard him exhale a breath. “Maybe not. Can I call you back? I … Hey!”
    Taylor held her phone out, watched the call timer increase by a second. Then another. Then another. He hadn’t ended the call. “Hello?” A female voice came through this time. “Taylor?”
    “Yes. This is Taylor.”
    “Oh, you’re there. Good. This is Judy. Judy Marino, Joe’s mom. You’re the photographer?”
    “Yes.”
    “Wonderful. I absolutely love this idea. I can’t wait to meet you.” Her enthusiasm came through loud and clear, and Taylor warmed to her immediately.
    “Me either. Joe and I were just about to schedule—”
    “I’ll let you two work out those details, but before we do this, I want to meet you beforehand. In fact, you should probably meet all of us. See what you’re getting into. Have you eaten?”
    “A small sandwich and some cookies at my mother’s.” She’d slept until noon, for it’d been hard to sleep after her shift ended. First, she hadn’t known how to leave things. After she’d told him she’d do his book, they’d lingered until they’d finished their coffees. Then she’d driven him back to the lot near Presley’s, where they’d stood outside her car for a few awkward seconds. Did she hug him? He settled for grabbing her hand and giving it another firm shake.
    “A few cookies is not a meal,” Judy said. “You need protein. Where are you?”
    As if proving Judy’s point, Taylor’s stomach rumbled. “I’m at home.” She realized belatedly what Judy meant. “Richmond