Sweet Nothings by Kim Law

breath and faced him again. She ducked her head slightly and he could no longer get a full view of her in the light spilling out from behind him. “To tell you that I got the loan taken care of at the bank earlier. So if you still want to cover the rest, we can work that out between us. If not—”
    “I do,” he jumped in. “I’ll get papers drawn up so it’ll be official.” He eased the rest of the way out of the door, having the feeling that if he moved too fast he would spook her away. Excitement at the idea of turning his plans into reality warred with him to get out, but he could tell something was eating at her. Knowing that put a damper on anything else he was feeling at the moment. It worried him. “Want to come in and tell me what’s wrong?”
    She stared through the open door behind him before heading across the porch. “Can we just hang out here a minute? I’m not ready to go home yet.”
    “Sure.” He motioned to the door. The switch for the porch light was on the inside wall. “Want some light?”
    “No,” she answered quickly. She paced in the shadows. “I prefer the dark.”
    “Okay.” He moved to perch on the concrete railing, but stopped halfway down. “Want a beer? Whiskey?”
    A ghost of a smile curved her lips. “No, thanks.”
    He finished lowering himself but remained quiet, hoping she’d fill him in on the problem. She didn’t. Finally, her melancholy mood getting to him, he decided to start the conversation with something that should lighten her spirit.
    “How about you tell me why your hair is now orange?”
    “What?” She stopped in front of him and lifted her hands to her hair. “My hair is not orange. It’s blond.”
    He grabbed a curl and slid the end between his fingers. “The tips, blondie. Why are the tips orange?”
    “Oh.” She smiled and his pulse informed him it was no longer just about kissing; he wanted her in his bed. “It matches Orange Paparazzi.” At the blank look he gave her, she added, “The cupcake of the week.”
    He cleared his throat. “You change your hair color to match your cupcakes?”
    “Only the cupcake of the week. And only the tips.” She pulled one of the orange locks in question in front of her face and held it up for him to see. “It’s a temporary wash, so it won’t damage my hair by changing it so often. I have boots to match, too.”
    There went all the blood that had been in his brain. “More go-go boots?” he croaked out.
    “Yep.” Her smile flashed, showing him a hint of the carefree woman he liked so much, and not the sad one who’d shown up at his door. He almost leaned in and kissed her.
    He needed to get away from her before he did something stupid, but couldn’t bring himself to move her aside. Or to walk away himself. Instead, he glanced down at the brown boots she wore. “When do you plan to wear these orange boots? Or did I miss them already?”
    Please , he silently pleaded, please don’t let me have missed them .
    The thought that she might have been prancing around town in the orange boots, and if he was guessing correctly, an orange miniskirt, had him more than ready to go.
    She stepped back from him, and moved to rest her rear on the railing to his side. “I’ve designated Thursdays as the day I take out the van. At least until tourist season starts. I’ll take it out more then and on Saturdays when the local soccer and baseball games kick off.”
    “So that’s when you’ll wear your boots?”
    “And the matching outfits, yes.”
    He gulped. “Do you need any help on those days?” The thought of leaving her alone for all those men to ogle irritated him.
    She laughed, a clear sound ringing out in the dark night that made him feel good inside. “Thanks, but I have Destinee for that. I suspect she’ll be far more help than you would be. You’d probably try to eat all the cupcakes.”
    “Yeah,” he said. “Cupcakes. That’s what I was thinking about.”
    The woman was going to be the death