the Fixer Upper (2009) by Andrews Mary Kay

Author:Andrews, Mary Kay [Kay, Andrews, Mary]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2011-03-26T18:09:39+00:00

Jimmy had the top down on his Jeep. He handed me a new yellow baseball cap with maynard realty embroidered across the bill. I tucked my hair up under it, and off we went. The moon was nearly full and the sky was a deep velvet blue. He drove with one hand draped across the steering wheel, and the other across the back of my seat. His cell rang twice; both times he looked at the caller ID, shrugged, and let it go to voice mail.

"You like prime rib?" he asked.

"Sure."

"Good," he said. "It's prime rib night at the country club."

He turned on the radio, and punched buttons until he came to the station he wanted. "'The Sixties on Six,'" he said. "God, I love satellite radio."

I recognized the song that was playing, "Under the Boardwalk," by the Drifters, because it was one of Mitch's favorites.

Jimmy glanced over at me. "How 'bout beach music? You like beach music?"

"Sure."

Another grin. "You're battin' a thousand."

"I grew up listening to the Drifters, the Tams, and the Platters," I told him. "My dad's a beach music nut."

"Ouch. Now I really do feel like an old fart."

"You'll get over it."

We pulled up in front of a sprawling one-story white stucco building nestled in ribbons of blooming azaleas. A discreet stucco sign told me we'd arrived at pine blossom country club.

Jimmy zoomed up beneath a portico, and a valet-parking kid trotted out to take the keys.

We strolled through the foyer, a tasteful affair with overstuffed sofas and glass display cases bristling with silver trophies, and into the dining room, a large, glass-walled room that looked out on the up-lit golf course.

"Mr. Maynard," cooed the hostess, a middle-aged blonde with a short skirt and long legs. "We've got your regular table ready."

The room was crowded with well-dressed people, the men in sports coats, the women in spiffy pants outfits or dresses. It made me glad I'd forsaken my overalls for the night. But nobody seemed to be looking askance at Jimmy in his shorts.

"Don't they have a dress code here?" I whispered as we made our way through the room.

"Sure," he said, steering me with his hand on the small of my back. "There's rules, and there's exceptions to rules. I try to be the exception whenever I can."

Every other diner, it seemed, turned from their table to say hello, or got up to pump Jimmy's hand.

"Do you know every single person here?" I asked as he pulled out my chair for me.

He scanned the room. "Hmm. Nope. There's a couple of people I don't recognize. Yankees, probably."

The waiter brought over a large tumbler of ice and a beaker of what looked like bourbon. "Here's your Knob Creek, Mr. Maynard." He looked at me. "And for the lady?"

I shrugged. "I'll have what he's having."

Jimmy laughed and patted my hand. "You're a fast learner, Dempsey Killebrew."

The waiter brought a basket of warm bread, and salads, and I dove into mine without any prompting.

"I love a lady who appreciates good food," Jimmy said, leaning back in his chair to watch me eat, and ignoring his own salad.

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