boring.”
“Does Sharon look boring?”
“No, she looks nice. She is nice. I like her.” She thought about it for a while. “Mitch, do you think I could be an accountant?”
“I don’t know, Scarlett. Like I said, it’s just a hunch. Maybe you should talk to her.” He squeezed her shoulders. “Now go to sleep.”
Scarlett lay there a while, listening to the whisper soft whir of the fan. Accounting. It sounded horrible. But what did she really know about accounting? She’d never met an accountant before. And now she knew two, Robbo and Sharon. But there was a CPA firm in Bozeman near the police department where Tara worked and they had a branch in Marietta. She remembered their signage, Morison and Daume CPA .
And she didn’t have a clue what they did inside that office of theirs, but if it was something to do with numbers, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe it was worth thinking about.
Maybe.
The next morning brought good news on the weather front when the weather forecast on the television confirmed what they saw out the windows. The cyclone off shore had blown itself out and winds were easing, the clouds already less threatening, and there was a chance of clearing skies by evening. Mitch flicked off the TV. “Looking good for Staircase to the Moon,” he said, and Scarlett would have been excited, except she’d just checked her phone.
With a sigh she put it down on the side table.
“Nothing?”
“Not a nibble.” She turned in his arms. Sighed again. “You know, I’m beginning to think it’s better if the dress doesn’t sell. I mean, some woman in Marietta took it back because she was abandoned at the altar and then the damn thing offered me no joy either. Maybe it’s a bad luck dress. Maybe I shouldn’t even be trying to sell it because the darned gown is cursed. Why would I want to pass on a dress that’s likely to ruin some poor woman’s life?”
“It’s just a dress, Scarlett. How can it be cursed?”
“I don’t know, but it is, and it’s a sign that it’s not selling. I’m going to take the listing down. I don’t want anyone else to buy it.”
“Okay, so take the listing down.”
“Wouldn’t you do the same?”
“If I happened to have a wedding gown that was cursed and that wouldn’t sell on eBay, you mean?”
“Now you’re just poking fun at me.”
“Not at all. It’s a fair question. I just need to think about it a while, do a thorough assessment of the pros and cons. You can’t be too impulsive about these things.”
She sat up and snatched up a pillow. “Mitch Bannister, you are making fun of me!” and she swiped him with it as he lay on the bed.
“Hey!” he said, “don’t go hitting a bloke when he’s down.”
“So get up and fight like a man.”
And he did, retaliating with his own pillow, and it was on. They went blow for blow on the already tousled bed until he managed to knock her pillow out of her hands and grab her flailing wrists to drop her bodily to the bed. She was panting and laughing while he pinned her there, her gorgeous breasts rising and falling with her chest, her scarlet hair like a crazy tangled crown around her head, and his lungs squeezed tight in his chest.
“You’re beautiful, Scarlett Buck,” he growled, in a voice that felt like gravel, as he gazed down upon perfection, from her crazy scarlet crown all the way past her luscious curves to her provocative red tipped toes. “So crazy beautiful.” And the green eyes that looked up at him glistened like waterholes that were so goddam deep you could drown in them, and god, he was tempted to jump right on in.
But those toes had given him an idea that might save him from saying anything even crazier before all the blood drained from his brain and headed south.
Though it might not save his sanity.
He reared back on his knees.
“What’s wrong?”
“I can’t help but feel something’s missing,” And he disappeared into the dressing room.
“Like what?” she
“Does Sharon look boring?”
“No, she looks nice. She is nice. I like her.” She thought about it for a while. “Mitch, do you think I could be an accountant?”
“I don’t know, Scarlett. Like I said, it’s just a hunch. Maybe you should talk to her.” He squeezed her shoulders. “Now go to sleep.”
Scarlett lay there a while, listening to the whisper soft whir of the fan. Accounting. It sounded horrible. But what did she really know about accounting? She’d never met an accountant before. And now she knew two, Robbo and Sharon. But there was a CPA firm in Bozeman near the police department where Tara worked and they had a branch in Marietta. She remembered their signage, Morison and Daume CPA .
And she didn’t have a clue what they did inside that office of theirs, but if it was something to do with numbers, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe it was worth thinking about.
Maybe.
The next morning brought good news on the weather front when the weather forecast on the television confirmed what they saw out the windows. The cyclone off shore had blown itself out and winds were easing, the clouds already less threatening, and there was a chance of clearing skies by evening. Mitch flicked off the TV. “Looking good for Staircase to the Moon,” he said, and Scarlett would have been excited, except she’d just checked her phone.
With a sigh she put it down on the side table.
“Nothing?”
“Not a nibble.” She turned in his arms. Sighed again. “You know, I’m beginning to think it’s better if the dress doesn’t sell. I mean, some woman in Marietta took it back because she was abandoned at the altar and then the damn thing offered me no joy either. Maybe it’s a bad luck dress. Maybe I shouldn’t even be trying to sell it because the darned gown is cursed. Why would I want to pass on a dress that’s likely to ruin some poor woman’s life?”
“It’s just a dress, Scarlett. How can it be cursed?”
“I don’t know, but it is, and it’s a sign that it’s not selling. I’m going to take the listing down. I don’t want anyone else to buy it.”
“Okay, so take the listing down.”
“Wouldn’t you do the same?”
“If I happened to have a wedding gown that was cursed and that wouldn’t sell on eBay, you mean?”
“Now you’re just poking fun at me.”
“Not at all. It’s a fair question. I just need to think about it a while, do a thorough assessment of the pros and cons. You can’t be too impulsive about these things.”
She sat up and snatched up a pillow. “Mitch Bannister, you are making fun of me!” and she swiped him with it as he lay on the bed.
“Hey!” he said, “don’t go hitting a bloke when he’s down.”
“So get up and fight like a man.”
And he did, retaliating with his own pillow, and it was on. They went blow for blow on the already tousled bed until he managed to knock her pillow out of her hands and grab her flailing wrists to drop her bodily to the bed. She was panting and laughing while he pinned her there, her gorgeous breasts rising and falling with her chest, her scarlet hair like a crazy tangled crown around her head, and his lungs squeezed tight in his chest.
“You’re beautiful, Scarlett Buck,” he growled, in a voice that felt like gravel, as he gazed down upon perfection, from her crazy scarlet crown all the way past her luscious curves to her provocative red tipped toes. “So crazy beautiful.” And the green eyes that looked up at him glistened like waterholes that were so goddam deep you could drown in them, and god, he was tempted to jump right on in.
But those toes had given him an idea that might save him from saying anything even crazier before all the blood drained from his brain and headed south.
Though it might not save his sanity.
He reared back on his knees.
“What’s wrong?”
“I can’t help but feel something’s missing,” And he disappeared into the dressing room.
“Like what?” she
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