Second Chance for Romance полностью

“That should do it,” he said at last. “Give it a while longer to cool and you’re ready to go.”

“You’re kidding me. That’s it?”

“Told you you’d be pissed. Four hours to create a mold, four minutes to make a piece. A bit longer with heating and cooling, but yeah, that’s it.” He nodded at the wavy plexiglass. “I normally make freeform shapes. Now you know why.” He shrugged. “But you gotta go where the vision takes you. I grok, man.”

He took off the gloves and handed them to me. “I’m gonna get back to work. Big show in a couple of weeks.”

I nodded dumbly.

“I’ll hold on to your mold in case something happens to that piece. It should be fine, though. Give it a good sanding to rough it up before you try to paint it.”

“Got it. Thanks. And let me know when I can return the favor.”

“Dunno if I’ll ever need a building designed,” he said with a shrug, “but you’re the first one I’ll call.”

“It’s a deal.”

Christy hugged my arm and smiled up at me.

“Oh, yeah,” Jonas added, “take care of Little B. She’s like everyone’s little sister down here.”

“Will do.”

Wren and Trip were studying at the dining room table when we returned.

“How’d it go?” he asked.

I held up the plexiglass piece like a trophy.

“That’s it?”

It was a clear square, fifteen inches on a side, and curved in the shape of a woman’s hip and waist. I glanced at Christy. A little slip of a woman…

“Six hours of work for that?”

“You have no idea,” I said. “Damn thing took five minutes once the plexi heated up. Everything else was prep or cool-down.”

“I saved you some dinner,” Wren said. “I kept it in the oven on warm.

Oh, Christy… you have a message. He called twice. I wrote down the number.”

“He?” I teased her.

She shrugged and gave me a curious look as she followed Wren into the kitchen.

I set the plexiglass in front of Trip and told him the short version of what it had taken to create.

Christy shrieked from the kitchen.

Trip shot to his feet and knocked over his chair.

I almost knocked him over as I bolted past.

Christy was listening to the phone, oblivious to us.

We looked at Wren, who was just as confused as we were.

“How long?” Christy said. “Are you sure? Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Okay. We’ll be there. The main gate. Right. Ten minutes. Oh, Danny, I can’t wait!” She hung up and beamed at us. Her expression fell when she saw ours. “What’s the matter?”

“We thought you were hurt,” I said.

“No! That was Danny. He’s at the airport. Come on, we have to go!”

The rest of us looked at each other.

“I’ll explain on the way,” Christy said. She gestured at me. “Come on.

Get your keys. He doesn’t have much time. I told him we’d meet him in ten minutes.”

“He’s at the airport? Which one? It’s gonna take more than ten minutes.”

“The airport!” Christy said. “Wait, there’s more than one?”

I rolled my eyes and dug in my pocket for keys.

“You want me to keep your dinner warm?” Wren asked.

“No. Thanks.” I kissed her cheek and opened the back door. “I’ll let you know what’s going on as soon as I know. Come on, princess,” I said to Christy. “Let’s go. Chop-chop.”

She bounced with excitement. Then she grabbed my hand and tugged me into the night.

The Land Cruiser’s headlights swung past the sign for McGhee Tyson Air National Guard Base. I pulled to a stop at the gate and rolled down the window.

“Good evening, sir. May I see your ID?”

Christy leaned over. “We’re looking for Captain Danny Carmichael. He’s a Marine.”

“Yes, ma’am.” The airman—who couldn’t have been a day older than me

—turned and gestured at the guard station. “He’s been waiting.”

Christy squealed when a blond man stepped out. He was wearing a green pilot’s jumpsuit and leather flight jacket. She leapt out of the Cruiser and ran to the guard station, where she threw her arms around his neck. He picked her up and swung her around.

“Birdy! It’s great to see you. Thanks for coming.” After a moment he set her down and pulled his cap out of a thigh pocket. He told the airman he’d be back in about an hour. They exchanged salutes, and Danny followed Christy to the open passenger door.

“You sit up front with Paul,” she said. She hopped into the back and immediately thrust her head and shoulders over the front seat.

He climbed into the car, closed the door, and then he held out his hand.

“Danny Carmichael.”

“Paul Hughes.”

His grip was firm and self-assured.

The airman gestured for me to pull forward. “You can turn around past the gate, sir.”

“Roger. Thanks.” After I did, I looked at my passengers. “Where to?”

“I’m starving,” Danny said. “Have you eaten yet?”

Christy simply grinned at him.

“I’ll take that as a no.” He glanced at me. “You have a preference?”

I shook my head.

“Something chicken or fish,” he said. “I don’t care.”

“Danny’s a Buddhist too,” Christy said.

“I’m not a Buddhist, Birdy. And neither are you, for that matter. I eat like one, but I’m still a good Catholic. A little lapsed, maybe, but Mom won’t have to disown me or anything.”

I spotted a sign and pointed. “How about Red Lobster?”

“Perfect.”