All Summer Long. Susan Mallery

started to say that was fine, but before she could form the words, he leaned in and kissed her on the cheek.

      “Thanks,” he murmured and walked away.

      She stood there, on the sidewalk, her cheek all tingly and her insides doing some kind of fertility dance. Even someone with her lack of experience got the message. She was attracted to Clay. Sexually attracted. Based on how quickly she was thawing, after a few more meetings she would be reduced to a screaming, sobbing groupie.

      It was just her luck that after literally a decade of not having a single erotic thought, she found herself attracted to possibly the best-looking man on the planet.

      * * *

      A COUPLE OF days later, Annabelle Weiss slipped into the booth at Jo’s Bar and smiled at Charlie. “I invited Patience McGraw to join us. Do you know her?”

      Charlie watched the pretty brunette walk through the door and pause for a second before heading to them.

      “Sure,” Charlie told her friend. “Sometimes she cuts my hair.” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Annabelle glance at her short hair. Charlie rolled her eyes. “Stop it. Yes, I do get my hair cut professionally.”

      “And it looks adorable.”

      Charlie knew that adorable wasn’t a word that could ever be applied to her, but she accepted the comment in the spirit in which her friend meant it.

      Patience approached their table. “Hi, Charlie,” she said, sliding into the booth.

      Patience had grown up in Fool’s Gold. She had a daughter, Lillie, and was divorced.

      “Hi, yourself,” Charlie said. “How’s it going?”

      “Good.” Patience had big brown eyes and a sweet smile. “Were you waiting long?”

      “I just got here,” Annabelle said. “Charlie is always hungry, so she was early.”

      “I’m not always hungry,” Charlie muttered.

      Patience laughed. “I was dawdling, I’m sorry to say. There’s this retail space I have my eye on.”

      Annabelle drew in a breath. “You’re going to open your own salon? Does Julia know?”

      Patience worked for Julia Gionni, one of the two feuding Gionni sisters. Neither woman was the kind to appreciate a valuable stylist breaking out on her own.

      Patience laughed. “Don’t panic. I’m not thinking about opening my own place. Sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you. I was just daydreaming.” She leaned forward. “I would love to open my own coffeehouse. Crazy, huh? I’ll be twenty-eight in December. At the rate I’m able to save money, I’ll be a hundred and seventeen by the time I have enough.”

      “I think a coffeehouse is a great idea,” Annabelle told her. “Somewhere local to gather.”

      “Exactly.” Patience smiled. “I have all these ideas. Do you know Trisha Wynn?”

      “She helped me with a legal issue a couple of months ago,” Annabelle said.

      “I dated her son,” Charlie announced.

      Just then Jo came up and handed them menus. “We’re trying a new salad. It’s seasonal, with apples and fried chicken. You can get it with grilled chicken, but then I’ll pretty much think less of you. I’m just saying.”

      “Can I get garlic bread on the side?” Charlie asked.

      “My kind of girl. Of course you can.”

      Annabelle sighed. “I want to be tall like Charlie. Then I could eat what I wanted.”

      “I work out a lot, too,” Charlie reminded her.

      “Yeah, I’m less interested in that part,” Annabelle admitted.

      They placed their drink orders and Jo left.

      Patience turned to Charlie. “I didn’t know Trisha had a son. Things didn’t work out?”

      Charlie hadn’t meant to blurt out the information, but lately she seemed to be blabbing far too much personal stuff. “It was no big deal. We figured out we were better off as friends, but Trisha was bugging him about finding someone, so he took me to meet her. She and I got along great.” So much so that Trisha had been devastated when Charlie had finally come clean and admitted there wasn’t any spark.

      What she hadn’t told Trisha was the lack of spark had come about because every time Evan had tried to “take things to the next level,” Charlie had frozen. Panicked would be a better word, but why go there? Unfortunately for Evan, the next level had included kissing.

      Now he was married to someone Trisha didn’t like and Charlie always felt a little guilty. As if her and Trisha getting along so well was a problem for the

      new wife.

      “How is Trisha helping with your coffeehouse dream?” Charlie asked, thinking they should stop talking about her sad dating past.

      “She taught a class at the adult education center. It was on how to open your own business. I took it and came up with my plan. All that stands between me and coffeehouse heaven is start-up money.”

      “You’ll find it,” Annabelle told her.

      Patience nodded. “I’m thinking positive thoughts and buying lottery tickets.”

      “Hey, that can work,” Charlie said. “That’s how Heidi got the money for the down payment on the ranch.”

      Jo returned with their drinks. Iced tea all around. Decaf for the pregnant Annabelle. She took their orders. Charlie passed on the new salad, preferring her usual burger and fries. Patience and Annabelle both ordered the special, with the chicken grilled and no garlic bread.

      “You’re such girls,” she told them when Jo left.

      “Yes, and the poorer for it.” Annabelle raised her glass of iced tea. “To Heidi, who flies to Paris in the morning. I’m both envious of her and delighted for her.” She smiled. “The Paris part. Not that Rafe isn’t great, but I prefer Shane.”

      “A loyal fiancée,” Patience told her and clinked glasses with her. “To Heidi and Paris.”

      “To Heidi and Paris,” Charlie said, joining them.

      Like Annabelle, she wasn’t all that interested in Rafe. To be honest, the city wasn’t that thrilling, either. But being with someone, that had appeal. Because if she could do that—if she could be with a man, she would be healed. Or at least better. She was fine with scars—it was the open wounds she wanted gone.

      Charlie looked at Patience. “Is Lillie excited about school starting soon or sad that summer is over?”

      “Mostly excited. She’s been taking dance classes and loves it.” Patience wrinkled her nose. “I adore her. She’s a great kid and I would throw myself in front of a bus for her.” She glanced around and lowered her voice. “But she’s a terrible dancer. She tries and just can’t seem to find the rhythm. Her teacher is really patient with her, so that helps.”

      Charlie could relate to being a bad dancer. But in her case, she’d had to compare herself with her perfect, delicate, talented and famous prima-ballerina mother. Not a place she wanted to go again.

      “In another couple of months, the girls will start learning their parts for The Dance of the Winter King,” Patience continued. “Lillie can’t wait.”

      “I love The Dance of the Winter King,” Annabelle said. “It’s wonderful.”

      Charlie nodded. “I like it, too.” It was a Fool’s Gold tradition and even with her mother-induced ballet trauma, she enjoyed the production.

      Patience’s phone chirped. She pulled it out of her pocket and glanced at the screen. “Oh, no. One of the stylists had