Frogs & French Kisses #2 Read Online Free PDF

approaching. His gaze sways from Mom to me, then back to Mom, and then he smiles. “Hello.”
    My mom stands up straighter. Go, girl! “Hi,” she says, sounding almost . . . coy?
    “Hi,” he says. Excellent to the power of two! We’ve made contact.
    I elbow my mom in the side.
    “Anything we can help you with?” she asks, feeling my not-so-subtle cue. “Give you a ride?”
    Old Man Tour Guide shakes his head. “Nah. Thanks, though. Much appreciated. Very sweet of you to offer.” He (oh yes) tips the front of his hat as if he’s some sort of cowboy. Maybe he was a cowboy. In the 1940s. “The driver just called Triple A, but it will take them at least thirty minutes to get here.”
    “Great,” my mom says, eyes still on him. Old Man Tour Guide doesn’t look away.
    Yikes. Old Man Tour Guide is flirting with my mother! He’s a hundred years old! Fine, he’s at least fifty.
    OMTG sticks out his pale hairy hand. “My name is—”
    “How’s it going, Lex?” says a booming voice. As the owner of the voice steps off the bus, my heart literally swoons. Like if I were a cartoon, it would pop out of my shirt and jiggle. He’s gorgeous. About half OMTG’s age, at least six feet tall, thick light brown hair, and topped off with deliciously chiseled cheekbones. He’s wearing faded jeans and a Yankees jersey. I wonder if he’s a ballplayer.
    “I think the boys are getting restless,” he says, and cracks his knuckles. “Hello, ladies,” he adds as he notices us.
    Ten more men follow him off the bus. Ten more hot men. As each man steps off, he smiles at my mom. This is the dating pool jackpot.
    “So what kind of tour is this?” my mom asks Lex, who hasn’t yet realized he should get out of the way. I mean, come on. My mom should not be spending precious time with him when there are more appropriately aged step-fathers available. Lex could be my stepgrandfather. I could fix him up with my bubbe.
    “I lead a day-trip tour to the National Baseball Hall of Fame in Cooperstown every Sunday from April to October. Have you been?”
    “Nope,” she says. And bats her eyelashes. Oh, no, what’s she doing? She’s wasting her flirting! I raise my eyebrow as a suggestive cue to move on.
    “I’d be happy to take you one day, Mrs. . . .”
    My mom blushes a deep fuchsia. “Ms., actually. But please call me Carol.”
    “I’m Lex,” he says, and sticks out his pale hairy hand again. Mom takes it, apparently oblivious to my eyebrow signals. Abort plan!
    “And this is my daughter Rachel.”
    I shake his hand reluctantly. And then I turn to the crowd of younger, hotter men and extend my hand to the specimen closest to me. “And what’s your name?” I ask.
    “Jimmy,” the guy says. He’s cute. Red hair, jean jacket, nice teeth.
    I tug my mom away from Lex. No need to date the frog when we’re surrounded by princes. “Mom, meet Jimmy.”
    She giggles. “Hi, Jimmy. I’m Carol.”
    “Nice to meet you,” he says, sounding gruff yet sexy. “You live in New York?”
    “Yes, I do,” she answers in a chirpy Mouseketeer’s voice I didn’t know she had. Impressive. Somewhat nauseating. The old broad has some tricks up her sleeve. “You?”
    Go, girl!
    “Nah,” he says, shaking his head. “Florida. I came up to visit my wife’s brother and . . .”
    I should have looked at his ring finger before getting excited. Oh, no. What if these men are all married? Or if they all live in Florida?
    I can handle Florida. I’m not opposed. New school, perma-tan, Disney World . . . But my mom’s being a high-priced mistress? Not so much. Too much drama. I’d see the other woman’s kids at school and would have to pretend I didn’t know where their father was spending his nights. What if I fell in love with his seventeen-year-old son? Would it be my ethical duty to tell him, even if it would tear his soul apart?
    I snap back to attention just as my mom is being introduced to Adam, the hot guy in the Yankees jersey,