getting turned into a salt statue. “Delilah Markham.” She shoved her hand toward the neighbor. “Everyone calls me Lilah.”
“It’s a pleasure, Lilah. Everyone calls me Blake.” He shook her hand and glanced at Natalie. “Well, almost everyone.” One corner of his perfect smile lifted a little higher. “I like your hair.” Natalie could practically feel Lilah melt into a puddle at her feet, and she wondered what was up with the Mr. Nice Guy act. “And leather. I appreciate a woman in leather.”
“Thank you.”
He took his hand back and shoved his photos and punch card into the order envelope. “Good day, ladies.”
“See you around, Blake.”
Hope I don’t see you around . “Mr. Junger.”
The two women watched him leave, the back of his wide shoulders tapering to his waist and the zippered back pockets of his black running pants.
“Oh. My. God,” Lilah managed as soon as the door shut behind Blake. “Pinch me. That man is gorgeous.”
“Do you think he heard us talking about Frankie’s junk?”
“Who cares?” Lilah pointed toward the door. “Did you see him?”
“I care. I’m a business owner.” Natalie put a hand on the front of her white blouse. “Discussing a customer’s private photos with another customer is unethical.”
Lilah waved her concern away. “Did you see his chest? Like someone painted him with edible chocolate fondue. All dark and yummy and I just wanted a bite.”
“Edible chocolate fondue?” She didn’t even want to know what Lilah did with edible fondue.
“Please”—she grabbed Natalie’s arm—“please tell me that man took pictures of his junk and that you made copies!”
“Sorry.” Natalie chuckled. “No junk photos.”
Lilah looked like she might cry and dropped her hand. “What were his pictures of?”
“Mostly Johnnie Walker and a few snapshots of some wildflowers.” And lots of the lake. Even though it killed her to admit it, his photos were pretty good. Nice color and lighting. Even the shots of his whisky bottle had interesting depth.
“That’s it?”
“Yeah.”
“Flowers and booze? Is he a drinker or gay?” A frown creased her perfectly plucked brows. “Or is he a big gay drinker?”
Natalie shrugged and moved to the cabinet a few feet from the big digital printer. “I really doubt he’s gay,” she said as she pulled out a large canvas bag. Big drinker? Maybe, but he didn’t look like either.
“No. I didn’t get the gay vibe from him, and I can always tell. Gay guys love me.”
“Drag queens love you.”
“I bet Blake Junger wouldn’t mind if I painted him with chocolate fondue.”
Natalie had dated a few times when she’d first moved back to Truly. She’d even had a short relationship with Imanol Allegrezza, a handsome Basque man from a large Basque family in the area, but it hadn’t worked out. She’d been a single mom working hard to support herself and her toddler. Manny had been a cheater. Cheating men seemed to be the story of her life.
“Or hot wax dripped on his privates,” Lilah continued to dream.
“Ouch.” Natalie cringed as she turned on the printer and clicked on a few icons.
“You’re such a prude.”
“No. I’m boring.” She chuckled.
“You’re not boring. Michael’s an asshole.” Lilah looked at her and frowned. “You just need to loosen up and get laid. If you don’t use it, you’ll lose it.”
“Quit reading Cosmo .”
“I don’t need to read Cosmo to know that you have sexual shame and old-fashioned guilt. You can’t let yourself have sex outside the societal views of a monogamous relationship.”
“I don’t have sexual shame.” Probably a healthy dose of Baptist guilt though. “I can’t run around with men. I’m a mom.”
“Charlotte wouldn’t know.”
The one thing she missed about a relationship was the sex. She missed that a lot. “She probably wouldn’t know if I stole a candy bar from Paul’s Market, either, but I can’t tell her not to