Too Good to Be True - Kristan Higgins [55]
“Wouldn’t mind if he cased mine.” I gave her a dirty look. “Right. Well. He’s hot. Wonder if he’s interested in an affair.”
“Margaret!”
“Relax. Just kidding.”
“Margs, speaking of dates, weren’t you going to fix me up with the blacksmith? I’m getting a little desperate here.”
“Right, right. Metalsmith. Lester. Weird. I’ll call him.”
“Great,” I muttered. “I can’t wait.”
She took another sip of coffee. “Got anything to eat? I’m starving. Oh, and I brought some dirty laundry, hope that’s all right. I just had to get out of the house. And if Stuart calls, I don’t want to talk to him, okay?”
“Of course. Anything else, Majesty?”
“Can you pick up some skim milk? This half-and-half will kill me.” Margaret was one of those people who ate nonfat cheese and didn’t know she was missing anything.
Callahan came into the kitchen carrying a new window and leaned it against the wall.
“Are you married, good-looking neighbor?” Margs asked.
“Nope,” came his answer. “Is that a proposal?”
Margaret grinned wickedly. “Maybe,” she murmured.
“Margaret! Leave him alone.”
“How much time did you actually serve, Al Capone?” Margs asked. “God, his ass in those jeans,” she whispered to me, not taking her eyes off his backside.
“Stop it,” I whispered back.
“Nineteen months,” Cal answered. “And thanks.” He winked at Margaret. My uterus twitched in response.
“Nineteen months on three-to-five?” Margs asked.
“Yup. You’ve done your homework,” he said, smiling at my sister. My beautiful sister. Beautiful, red-haired, smart as a whip, razor-witted sister in a high-income bracket and a size four to boot.
“Well, Grace asked me to check you out, being that you’re a threat to her security.”
“Shut it, Margaret,” I said, blushing.
“Any other questions?” Cal asked mildly.
“Have you had a woman since you got out?” Margaret asked, studying her fingernails.
“God’s nightgown!” I yelped.
“You mean did I swing by the local whorehouse on my way into town?” Cal asked.
“Correct,” Margaret affirmed, ignoring my offended squeaks.
“No. No women.”
“Wow. How about in the big house? Any girlfriends?” she asked. I closed my eyes.
Callahan, however, laughed. “It wasn’t that kind of prison.”
“You must be so lonely,” Margaret said, smiling wickedly at Cal’s back.
“Are you done interrogating him?” I snapped. “He has work to do, Margaret.”
“Party pooper,” Margaret said. “But you’re right. And I have to go into the office. I’m a lawyer, Callahan, did Grace tell you? Criminal defense. Would you like my card?”
“I’m completely reformed,” he said with a grin that promised all sorts of illicit behavior.
“I know people in the parole office. Very well, in fact. I’ll be watching.”
“You do that,” he answered.
“I’ll help you get settled,” I offered, hauling Margaret out of her chair and grabbing her suitcase. “You can’t have an affair with him,” I hissed once we were upstairs. “You will not cheat on Stuart. He’s wonderful, Margaret. And he’s heartbroken. I saw him at school the other day, and he looked like a kicked puppy.”
“Good. At least he’s noticing me now.”
“Oh, for God’s sake. You’re so spoiled.”
“I have to go to the office,” she said, ignoring my last comment. “I’ll see you for dinner, okay? Feel like cooking?”
“Oh.” I took a deep breath. “I won’t be here.”
“Why? Date with Wyatt?” she asked, raising a silken eyebrow.
I reached up to smooth my difficult hair. “Um, no. Well, yes. We’re going to Nat’s for dinner. Double date.”
“Holy Mary the Eternal Virgin, Grace,” my sister muttered.
“I know, I know. Wyatt will end up in emergency surgery, bless his talented heart.”
“You’re an idiot. Hey, thanks for letting me crash here,” Margs said at the door to the guest room, vaguely remembering that she should be grateful.
“You’re welcome,” I said. “Leave Callahan alone.”
For the next few minutes, I found things to do upstairs, away from my neighbor. Took a shower. As the warm water streamed over me, I wondered what would happen if Callahan O’Shea walked in. Tugged his shirt over his