Gina felt like a teenager. Evening plans, which included Brady picking her up and meeting her mother, reeked of official first date material. She rolled her head, relaxed her shoulders, and took a deep breath.
She had spent a long time at the mirror and in the closet. She wasn’t ready when she heard his knock downstairs. Maybe she was avoiding her initial reaction to him? Evidently from Lauren and Aunt Marsha’s discussion, she was the latest in a long line of females who eagerly held his proffered arm. Of course he would attract many. No reason for her to get too starry-eyed. And besides, she was leaving in two weeks.
Careful not to muss her French twist, she slipped on a short-sleeved black knit dress. It was midcalf length and dressy without being too fancy. She added pearls and heels and took a deep breath, fighting down the anticipation.
Dear God, thank You for Brady’s friendship. Please don’t let me…don’t let us make a mistake.
“Amen,” she said to the mirror. “Just stay cool and aloof.” She smiled. “A little.”
At the top of the staircase she heard her mother say, “You look exactly like your father.”
“That’s what I said, didn’t I?” Aunt Lottie added.
“I hear that often.” There was a grin in his voice.
As she descended, all three looked up. Her eyes locked with Brady’s, and she knew cool and aloof were out of the question. They didn’t stand a chance under his intensely approving gaze.
“I-I’m sorry I wasn’t ready on time.”
“No problem.”
“Tell us where you’re taking her.” Aunt Lottie prompted with a smile.
“The Landing.”
Gina noticed his black slacks and the soft, short-sleeved pale blue shirt that set off his tanned arms and face. His blond hair glistened. He towered over Mother and Aunt Lottie.
“Where is that?” Maggie asked.
“Up the river, about ten miles north of Rockville.”
All four moved toward the door, Brady and Maggie murmuring polite phrases about meeting each other. Gina sensed their initial face-to-face had gone smoothly. Both were smiling.
“Don’t be late.” Maggie bit her lip. “I didn’t mean that.”
“She forgets I’m not 16,” Gina explained.
“Brady.” Maggie sighed and glanced at her. “Sorry, honey. I do know your age. Brady,” she paused, “take good care of my daughter. Please.”
He hesitated a beat, keeping eye contact with her mother. “You can trust me, Mrs. Philips.”
“Call me Maggie.” She hugged Gina, squeezing her extra tightly. Her voice caught as she whispered, “You look so beautiful.”
Had she missed something?
She left the question behind the closed screen door and slipped her arm through Brady’s. “Hi,” she whispered.
He patted her hand, almost absentmindedly. From his profile, he appeared somber. Maybe she couldn’t leave the question behind. They walked down the porch steps.
“Everything okay?” she asked.
Her heart sank. It was that old family feud business. She should have—
“The thing is,” he said softly, “I’m having an extremely difficult time preventing myself from kissing you.”
She stared up at him as they walked along the front walk.
He took a deep breath, still not looking at her. “And your mother knows it. I find both of these things rather, uh, disconcerting.”
Apparently she had missed something, but it seemed to have been an undercurrent rippling right before her very eyes. Talk about disconcerting!
He held open the passenger door of the car while she slipped inside. As he walked around it, he waved toward the house. Maggie and Aunt Lottie still stood behind the screen door. She lifted the corners of her mouth and waved to them as the car pulled away from the curb.
Car? “Where’s your truck?” She ran her hand across soft red leather. It was a small, two-seater, old model sports car.
Brady drove hurriedly through town. “Traded vehicles with my brother for the night. Look.” The car squealed to a stop on a side street. He cut the engine and unfastened his safety belt. “Can we start over?”
Just as she was rebuilding her cool and aloof armor, he turned toward her. Again the defenses melted away. “Hello.”
Slowly, he smiled, his eyes crinkling. “Hi. How are you?”
“I don’t really know. My head is swimming.” Inwardly she cringed. She shouldn’t have admitted that. “How are you?”
“I feel like I’ve been hit by a semi.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “Oh.” Oh my.
“Mm-hmm.” He leaned over and softly kissed the corner of her mouth, then straightened. “You look beautiful tonight. Shall we go?”
Words caught in her throat. In less than a minute they had settled into the comfort of last night. There was no denying a connection with him.
He winked, depressed the clutch, and turned the ignition key. They headed out of town and were soon on the twolane highway. “I like your mother.”
“Really?” she scoffed in a teasing manner. “She is a Lindstrom, you know.”
“Ooh, that was low.”
“But deserved.” She smiled at him.
“Touché.” He shifted into fifth, then reached for her hand. “Seriously, no hard feelings along those lines?”
“Seriously, no.” She squeezed his hand.
“I liked her mother-grizzly spirit.”
Gina rolled her eyes. “I can’t remember the last time she met my date at the door.”
“Well, these are unusual circumstances. I mean, I am an Olafsson.”
“That’s true.”
“And it’s probably been kind of tough on her watching you go through this time, being hurt and losing your job and all.”
She thought of her mother’s special attention in recent months, of the hours she spent at the hospital, of worry etched on her face whenever Gina cried because of the pain. The way she blanched when she looked at her leg. “Very tough. She’s always fixed things, you know? This she couldn’t fix. But she was…there for me.”
“You said you moved back home months ago?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“And she hasn’t met a date at the door for some time. Let’s see…exactly how long has it been since you’ve had a date?”
“I don’t think that’s any of your business.”
He shrugged. “I was just curious if we’re talking lo-ong time.”
“Brady, we’re talking desperate time.”
“Desperate? You mean it’s been so long that you’re desperate?”
“Tell me now, why else would I say yes to an Olafsson in Podunk?”
“You really know how to build up a guy’s confidence. Want to know how long it’s been for me?”
She grinned. “No.”
“It’s been—”
“I said no!”
“Not very long. But I have to say, as far as a kiss goes, we’re talking desperate time.”
“Brady!” She punched his shoulder.
“Hey, with the remarks you dish out, you’re fair game, sweetheart.”
He teased, but the term of endearment warmed her.
“And,” he continued, “I sincerely hope you’re not expecting a romantic evening.”
“Well, of course I am. I told you I was desperate.”
“You’re out of luck. We have reservations at The Landing. I asked for a window table that overlooks the river. Sunset view. The décor is burgundy and black. Elegant. Linen tablecloths. Two forks. Three if we get the cheesecake or chocolate torte. Lemon wedge in the water goblets. Soft, chamber-type music. They have raspberry-flavored butter. Fresh fish entrees. Soft candlelight.”
“That’s not romantic?”
He shook his head. “Nah. In the Midwest romantic is picking up dinner at the fast-food drive-through and renting a hunting instructional video.”
Gina laughed until her side hurt. Desperate or not, she knew Brady Olafsson was having a considerable impact on her life.