Restless. Kimberly Raye

the magazine and studied the picture of the woman and her fifty pound bundle of joy from several angles. “True or not, this looks awful painful to me.”

      “I’ll tell you what’s painful,” Dolores piped in from the corner, touching a hand to her gray coif. “I let Ida Louise over at the Cut-n-Curl frost my hair and I swear, she pulled out more than she colored.”

      “Well you wouldn’t catch me letting Ida touch one hair on my head,” Wally broke in. “The woman’s as blind as a bat…”

      The conversation continued and Paige let out an exasperated breath before stomping over to Wally’s desk and hauling open his drawer. Retrieving the notes, she headed back to her own desk and sank down into the seat. Sweat slid down her temples, her neck, and she grabbed a napkin to blot the moisture.

      Wally shot her a knowing look. “Told you it was better to keep still in this heat.”

      “Deb’s going to kill you when she finds out you sat on your butt all week while the world passed us by.”

      “At the rate things are going, this heat’s going to kill me a heck of a lot sooner than Deb will. Besides, she’s a thousand miles away. How’s she going to know if I took a siesta in the dying heat of the afternoon?”

      “Because Little Brother’s here watching you,” Dolores said.

      Paige blotted her forehead. “Don’t you mean Big Brother?”

      “She means Little Brother.” Jack Mission’s voice floated into the room and tickled the hair on the back of Paige’s neck. She opened her eyes to see him standing in the doorway looking dark and delicious, leaning against the lemon yellow colored doorframe.

      Wally’s feet hit the floor. Papers rustled and his tea glass nearly toppled over. “I was, um, just doing a little research for a travel article.”

      “For a trip to Gentryville, Kentucky?”

      “No. I mean, yes. I mean, I’ve always wanted to go to Kentucky. And speaking of going, I’ve got to do the ‘This Is Your Neighbor Interview’ with Loretta Marks. She’s the new Sunday School teacher from Austin. Later.”

      “I wouldn’t have thought he could move that fast considering the heat,” Dolores said. She leaned back in her seat, aimed her handheld fan at her face and eyed Jack. “So what brings you here?”

      “Returning my tux.”

      “Last I looked, Earline’s place was up the street. You’re at least a block out of the way.”

      “I needed some exercise. Say, Dolores, is that a new hairdo?”

      Her curiosity faded into a sheepish expression. She touched a hand to her hair. “Why, yes. I mean, it’s still the same style, but I had a new color job done just this past week.”

      “My compliments to your colorist.” He tipped his hat and Dolores actually blushed.

      Paige blinked just to make sure she was actually seeing correctly. Dolores Guiness never blushed. She made other people blush all the time with her know-it-all attitude and her all-seeing eyes, but never succumbed to turning red herself. Paige blinked a second time just for good measure. Sure enough, there was no mistaking the stain pinking Dolores’ chubby cheeks.

      “It’s a shame you’re out in all this heat, though.”

      “What?”

      “I mean, a pretty hairdo like that won’t stand up for long in this. Is it always this hot?”

      “My, my.” She clicked the button on her fan. “It is hot.”

      “What happened to bearable?” Paige arched an eyebrow.

      “I can’t very well go to the ladies’ auxiliary tea with wilted hair, now can I?” Dolores gathered up her purse and her notes. “I’ll just finish these notes up downstairs in the diner where it’s cool.”

      “Sounds like a good idea.” He winked and Dolores blushed again before heading out the doorway.

      “You’re related, all right.”

      “What are you talking about?”

      “The only other person who’s ever made Dolores turn that shade of red would be your brother Jimmy.”

      “What can I say?” He shrugged. “It’s a gift.”

      A few moments of silence ticked by before Paige finally found her voice. “So why are you here?”

      “I was returning my tux.”

      “I mean here, here.”

      “You forgot this last night.” He held up his hand and for the first time, she noted the battered bridal bouquet that he held.

      “Thanks. I’d forgotten all about it.”

      “That’s good to hear.”

      “What? That I’m having memory loss?”

      He grinned. “That you were so shaken up after our dance that you couldn’t think straight.”

      “You think so?”

      “Darlin’, I know so. You wanted to kiss me.”

      “You wanted me to kiss you. If I had wanted to kiss you, I would have.” She glanced at her watch. “I have to get going. I’ve got an SAT meeting over at the activity center.” She gathered up her purse and notebook.

      “I’ll show you the way.”

      “I know the way.”

      “Then you can show me the way. I don’t think I’ve seen the new activity center. When was that built? Last year?”

      “About five years ago.”

      “I don’t get around town much when I’m home.”

      “Why are you doing this to me?”

      “What?” he asked, as he followed her down the steps.

      “Following me.”

      “Maybe I’ve always wanted to go to a SAT meeting.”

      “Do you even know what SAT stands for?” When he grinned, she shook her head, then elaborated. “It stands for Sick and Tired.”

      “That’s just what I was going to say.” He fell into step beside her. “Sick and tired of what?”

      She smiled at him. Maybe it was a good thing he was following her. If he was so determined to make a nuisance of himself, the next half hour would undoubtedly change his mind. “You’ll see.”

      “I don’t know if I like the tone of your voice.”

      “Too late to chicken out now. Come on.” She took his arm and tugged him down the street.

      “SO I TOLD HIM,” Harriet Miller said, “I would really like dessert.” She shook her head. “Do you really need that dessert? Harvey asks me.” She frowned. “So I said, I want that dessert. I deserve it, Harvey. I deserve it.” Her words met with a round of applause from the other women seated around the circle of chairs that comprised Sick and Tired, the women’s empowerment group Paige had been hosting for the past month.

      “That’s wonderful,” Paige told the woman, desperately trying to ignore the man who leaned against the wall just inside the doorway, his arms folded as he watched her.

      She’d expected him to run the other way the minute he discovered the nature of the group. Not many men felt comfortable in a group of venting women, but he’d simply smiled, said hello to several of the ladies he knew, and propped himself inside the doorway.

      “So what did you have?” Louisa Jenkins asked. “The brownie or the apple pie?”

      “The apple pie,” Harriet declared with a smile. “With a