Leala Linney Chapter 3

“Girl, we’ve been friends since the 6th grade. In 40 years, have you ever known me to like feet?”

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Across plates loaded with glistening dolmades, plump olives, creamy hummus, soft pita, and gyros dripping tzatziki sauce, Leala shakes her head at Becky. “I’m not asking you to kiss anybody’s toes, for god’s sake. I’m saying we could both use a pedicure. I love you, but your feet are gnarly, honey.”

 

“Oh! Low blow!” Becky pops an olive in her mouth and chews, frowning. “But even your insults won’t get my ass in a pedicure chair. That’s why I only wear closed-toe shoes! Now, you want a manicure, I’m all over it, but the pedicure is a hard no.”

 

Leala swallows a bite of her gyro and wipes her mouth. “Aw, come on, Becky. Please? I can’t be held responsible for the color I choose on my own. You remember what happened that one time? I was so gloomy I picked the brightest color I could find.”

 

Becky’s eyes widen. “Oh, my god you’re right. That garish neon yellow was horrendous on you. You literally couldn’t have chosen a worse color for your pale blue-toned skin. You absolutely can’t be trusted to choose your own nail color. My color blind wife could have chosen better for you.”

 

“Okay now, I’m not that bad. Except for that last time when I made an emotional choice it’s been fine. You’ve liked the colors I chose.”

 

“Exactly! You aren’t gloomy and you don’t need me to come with you.” Becky swipes a pile of hummus with the corner of a pita triangle and pops it in her mouth, smirking with victory as she chews.

 

Leala points an end of a dolmade at Becky. “Not fair. You maneuvered me into defending myself.”

 

Becky just winks and picks up her gyro. “You’ll be fine. Just choose a light shade of pink or lavender.” She takes a bite of the gyro.

 

Leala sighs and shrugs. “Fine. I’ll go by myself.” As usual, she thinks. Not for the first time she wishes she had more friends than Becky. Becky is a wonderful friend, but it would be nice to have someone to do that stuff with her that Becky doesn’t want to do.

 

For a few minutes, the women are quiet, both lost to their thoughts as they eat. They’re so intent that they both jump when Leala’s phone vibrates against the table, rattling the glass it’s touching. Leala quickly wipes her mouth and her hands and picks it up.

 

“Why is your face red? Are you blushing? Is that Phil?”

 

Leala is shocked to find her cheek hot, but she ignores her friend, her eyes glued to her phone.

 

Phil: How’s lunch?

 

Delicious. Sorry u were late. In trouble?

 

Phil: No prob. What r u doing later?

 

Leala grins. Phil wants to see her! Today! Play it cool, old girl. Play it cool.

Define later

 

Phil: Fair. Dinner time?

 

I should be free by then.

 

Phil: I’ll cook. Can I pick u up?

 

Leala looks up from her phone and stares at a spot over Becky’s head. Pick her up? That means she’d have to give Phil, a near complete stranger, her home address. Is she okay with that? She shrieks when something hits her in the chest. She looks down to see a dry hunk of pita sitting on her phone. Leala looks up. “What did you do that for?”

 

Becky huffs. “Earth to Leala. I’ve been trying to get your attention!”

 

“Well, you have it now. What do you want?” Leala picks up the bread and places it beside her napkin.

 

“What do I want? I want to know what Phil is saying, that’s what I want!”

Leala blinks at her friend. “Phil wants to pick me up and cook for me. Tonight.”

 

Becky grins. “Ooo! So romantic!”

 

Leala shakes her head. “But I don’t know Phil, like at all. And if she drives I’ll be stuck at her place with no other way to get home.”

 

Becky’s grin fades and she chews on her lip. “Oh, right. Well. How about this? Give Phil my address. Let her pick you up there.”

 

“Okay but that doesn’t solve the problem of being at her house and not having a way to leave.” Her phone vibrates in her hand and she looks down at it.

 

Phil: I get the feeling I made u uncomfortable. Again.

 

Leala nods at her phone. “You might say that,” she mutters.

 

A little. We’re strangers.

 

Phil: Point. What will make u more comfortable?

 

Leala looks up. “Well, Phil is astute. And chivalrous.” She reads the texts to Becky. “I don’t know what to tell her now.”

 

Becky’s eyebrows lift. “Sounds like the ball’s in your court now, honey. What feels good to you?”

 

Leala nods. “Yeah. Okay.” She turns back to her phone.

 

Let’s save dinner. Meet for coffee tmw?

 

Phil: I would love to. You say when & where & I’ll b there.

 

Smiling, she types back the name of her favorite coffee shop and a time. Then she sets down her phone. For the next half hour at the restaurant, she manages to hold up her end of the conversation with Becky, but the whole time her mind is on a certain handsome woman she’ll see in the morning.

 

****

 

The next morning dawns cooler, a welcome break from summer’s heat. Leala decides to walk since the cafe is only a couple of blocks from her apartment. She needs to work off some of the anxiety in her gut or she won’t be able to stomach any of that yummy coffee. She woke up with k.d. lang’s “Summer Fling” in her mind and had to play Invincible Summer while she got ready. She smiles, the bright sunshine and lighter humidity matching her buoyant mood. Her jaunty steps falter when she realizes Phil’s standing in front of the coffee shop, watching her. Leala’s breath catches. Phil looks even better than she remembered. The dark denim pants appear pressed, the fabric straining over Phil’s muscled thighs. By tucking in and belting the plain navy t-shirt and pairing it with a gleaming pair of brown leather oxfords, Phil elevates the mundane jeans and t-shirt to the point that Leala’s relieved she at least pulled on a pretty sundress. She nervously stuffs her hands in the pockets as she approaches, her eyes never leaving Phil or the way the shirt molds to her body, broad shoulders and massive biceps threatening to burst the seams. That must be some kinda high quality cotton to hold up to that, she thinks.

 

“Good morning.” Phil’s eyes crinkle with amusement, making Leala realize she had been ogling a little too obviously. Again.

 

Crap. She has no business blushing at her age. Really, now. She clears her throat as if it will help. “Good morning. Thank you for being willing to meet me here.”

 

“My pleasure. I think it’s a great idea, actually. I love their coffee. Shall we?” Phil gestures for Leala to proceed her inside.

 

The cafe door is propped open, the proprietors also taking advantage of the break in the weather. Leala walks in, conscious of the warmth coming off of Phil as she steps close beside her in line. So close they’re almost touching, Phil looms a head taller than Leala, and she has to restrain herself from reaching for her bicep. Phil bends her head to speak into Leala’s ear. A light cologne wraps around her, something about it making her stomach flip, and cinnamon-scented breath teasing her sensitive ear and scattering gooseflesh in a wave over her body. She fends off a shiver and focuses on what Phil is saying.

 

“I can’t wait to discover what you like.”

 

Leala jerks and cranes her neck to look her companion in the eye. Did she just hear what she thought she heard? There’s a glint in Phil’s eyes that makes her swallow hard. “Pardon?” she squeaks.

 

Phil meets her gaze and what she sees there suddenly makes Leala feel hot. Like 5-alarm fire hot. And it ain’t no hot flash, either. Phil nods toward the front counter. “I believe they’re ready for your order.”

 

Leala mentally shakes herself and turns to the register. She spies a napkin and discreetly dabs her upper lip and forehead with it. “Hi. Yeah, I would love a caramel latte. Iced. Lots and lots of ice. Please.” Phil chuckles, but Leala’s no fool. She refuses to meet that gaze again until she’s better prepared. Wowzer. How can a pair of eyes telegraph so much...heat? Phil should come with a warning label.

 

She opens her purse but after Phil orders her coffee, she gently nudges Leala to get her attention. “I’d love it if you’d let me get these. Why don’t you find us a table? Outside if you can find one.”

 

It’s on the tip of her tongue to argue, but, avoiding looking Phil in the eye, Leala nods and weaves through the cafe to the doors in the back which open to large multi-tiered patio. She’s not surprised to see many of the outdoor tables taken. She spots an open table on the higher level, shaded by trees and makes her way to it, dodging umbrella-covered tables surrounded by chattering people.

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By the time she brushes the table and seats off, she sees Phil step through the door, a drink in each hand. Leala watches Phil approach, asking in her head what she won’t say out loud.

 

Phil, Phil, Phil, where did you come from? How are you single? And what are you doing with me? Am I your new fun thing? I’m no sweet young thing, that’s for sure. If a summer fling is all this is, please tell me now, before my heart decides to make room for you and ends up broken over it. Please.

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