I went back to her closet and flicked through her hangers. We might be sisters, but Francesca Ramos was on the lighter end of the skin tone spectrum. All the colors she had made me look like I had jaundice.
This was the only black one in her collection. I was a full cup size larger than Frankie. Did I go for vanity, or comfort?
I slipped a pink sweater off one of the hangers. A little bit of both, evidently.
I shrugged it on and closed the gaping buttons, then grabbed my purse and rushed down the stairs into the kitchen. Sunlight had burned through the gray clouds, allowing for a rare bit of March springtime heat. I made myself a quick travel mug of coffee and wandered to the window.
My father was on the patio with his radio blaring as he prepped his garden. It was tempting to go out there and sit with him. It had been so long since I’d simply sat and listened to him hum along with Elvis. He always said the King’s smooth voice was made for teasing blooms out of the flowers as much as girls out of their skirts back in the day.
I let the sheer curtains fall back over the kitchen window with a sigh. Regardless of the status of the bar, I’d have to go back to the city in the morning. I’d have to look into taking some personal time if Jake’s report was less than stellar.
I wasn’t sure how I was going to pull all of this off.
I snagged a slice of my mother’s fresh bread on the way out the door. I was on the opposite side of the town, and on the trip over, I got another two texts from Jake wondering where I was.
As I pulled up, I found him leaning against his dusty silver truck. The large grill made the breadth of his shoulders seem even wider. His long legs were crossed at the ankle, and those blasted aviators were shielding his eyes.
Different ones today. These were mirrored so I couldn’t figure out his mood.
I stepped out of my car.
“You’re late.”
“I wasn’t aware we scheduled a time.”
His lips twitched a little before a dimple dented his beard. “Raiding your sister’s closets again, Freckles?”
I gritted my teeth and lifted my chin. “How do you know it’s not my dress?”
He shrugged and slowly straightened. “Maybe you like showing off your lacy underthings. Who am I to say?”
Suddenly, I wished for a little more than the little pink sweater as a coverup for my borrowed dress. I folded it tighter around me and crossed my arms. “This was supposed to be a one and done, Mills. I wasn’t prepared for more than an overnight. So, yes, I had to borrow some clothing.”
He pulled an envelope out of his denim jacket. His woodsmoke and spice scent wafted after it. “Then let’s get to it, and you can be on your way.”
“Good.” I fidgeted a little under the weight of his gaze.
He waved the envelope. “I won’t bite. Unless you’re into that sort of thing.”
Obviously, he was baiting me. I moved in and he pulled it out of reach. “Jake,” I growled.
“I don’t want you to get too upset. The bar has violated code for a long time. I’m not sure how Sharkey passed his last yearly visit. All I can figure is my predecessor enjoyed the beer enough to overlook a few things.”
“And you won’t.”
He moved in until our toes touched. “I like rules and order, Freckles. I take my job seriously.” His voice lowered to a rumble. “Beer isn’t enough of a bribe, either.”
What about a sheer pink bra?
I instantly hated that the thought occurred to me. But I wasn’t sure if it was because I wanted the bar issue to be take care of or—
Nope. No or, dammit.
He handed me the envelope. “I’ll help you get it up to code.”
“You will?”
He inclined his head. “Well, me and the boys from the firehouse. We love this place.”