Read Online Everything but the Baby (Harlequin Superromance) by Kathleen O`Brien - Free Book Online
Authors: Kathleen O`Brien
Tags: Fiction, General, Romance, Contemporary, Man-Woman Relationships, Love Stories, Swindlers and Swindling, Florida, Families, irish
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okayâit was laid-back and it was fun to see all the new equipment first. Besides, heâd do anything to get a few hours away from the Hideaway and from his parents. Ever since the trouble last winter, they watched him like a hawk.
But he didnât like it when it rained. The guests needed someone to take their frustrations out on, and the seventeen-year-old nobody behind the register made the perfect target.
And, of course, he had to treat them like royalty, even though they smelled rank and they dripped all over the merchandise, because, of course, theyâd stayed out on the golf course too long, as if ignoring the rain would make it go away. They pawed the clothes, swung the clubs and tried on cap after cap. They bitched about everything and never bought squat.
He was trying to explain to Mr. Inkerfino that they didnât carry these microfiber, herringbone golf shorts in a four-Xâwithout implying that people who wore four-X probably shouldnât even be on a golf course and definitely shouldnât be wearing herringboneâwhen he caught a whiff of jasmine and sandalwood above the sweat.
His heart did a pole-vault jump. That was Janelle Greenwoodâs perfume. It was probably the only perfume heâd recognize with his eyes closed.
âHi, Danny,â she said from behind him.
He handed the three-X shorts to Mr. Inkerfino, then turned, smiling. âHi, Ms. Greenwood.â
She tilted her head, giving him a mock stern look. âMs. Greenwood?â
He shrugged, hoping the flush he felt around his chest didnât make its way to his face. He had a zit right near his hairline and his freckles would probably light up like a Christmas tree. His stupid sensitive skin was one of the eight million reasons he hated being a redhead.
For the freckles, his grandfather said he should swab them with the blood of a hare or distilled water of walnuts. When he was a kid, he had begged his mom to make some kind of rabbit dinner, in the hopes that he could get hold of some blood. The walnut thing just didnât make any sense to a ten-year-old at all.
Sheâd refused, so he had the damn things still. The sign of a true Irishman, his father assured him proudly. Yeah, right . Freckles and blushes and acne. Real sexy .
âMs. Greenwood?â Janelle said again, softly.
Last time she was in the shop, sheâd asked him to call her Janelle. Anything else was silly, sheâd said, considering that she was probably only a few years older than he was. But his manager, Mr. Beaner, was a real stickler and he would have fired Daniel if he heard him getting chummy with a customer.
âUmmâ¦well⦠Hey, thatâs your new tennis dress, isnât it?â Daniel hoped sheâd be willing to change the subject. Heâd helped her pick the dress out yesterday and it looked really hot on her. âDid you get rained out?â
âYeah,â she said, but she didnât seem upset at all. She was the only one in here who wasnât pissed off. âSaved by the storm, thank goodness! I was behind five-love. I told Lincoln I was hopeless and I think heâs finally beginning to believe me.â
Daniel felt the edges of his smile sag. Lincoln Gray was everything Daniel wanted to beâblond, blue-eyed, sophisticated, rich, funnyâ¦and, most of all, old enough to interest Janelle Greenwood.
And boy was she interested. Ever since Gray had arrived in town a couple of weeks ago, Janelle had hung out with him 24/7.
Not that it changed Danielâs life anyâexcept maybe his fantasy life. He still slaved four days a week at the Hideaway, doing all the grunt work his parents could think of, and then three days a week here at The Mangrove. He still had to take orders from Bart Thomas, the kid whoâd owned this job for two years but was leaving it to go off to Duke on a baseball scholarship in the fall.
Bart was a jackass. He was only eighteen, ten months older
But he didnât like it when it rained. The guests needed someone to take their frustrations out on, and the seventeen-year-old nobody behind the register made the perfect target.
And, of course, he had to treat them like royalty, even though they smelled rank and they dripped all over the merchandise, because, of course, theyâd stayed out on the golf course too long, as if ignoring the rain would make it go away. They pawed the clothes, swung the clubs and tried on cap after cap. They bitched about everything and never bought squat.
He was trying to explain to Mr. Inkerfino that they didnât carry these microfiber, herringbone golf shorts in a four-Xâwithout implying that people who wore four-X probably shouldnât even be on a golf course and definitely shouldnât be wearing herringboneâwhen he caught a whiff of jasmine and sandalwood above the sweat.
His heart did a pole-vault jump. That was Janelle Greenwoodâs perfume. It was probably the only perfume heâd recognize with his eyes closed.
âHi, Danny,â she said from behind him.
He handed the three-X shorts to Mr. Inkerfino, then turned, smiling. âHi, Ms. Greenwood.â
She tilted her head, giving him a mock stern look. âMs. Greenwood?â
He shrugged, hoping the flush he felt around his chest didnât make its way to his face. He had a zit right near his hairline and his freckles would probably light up like a Christmas tree. His stupid sensitive skin was one of the eight million reasons he hated being a redhead.
For the freckles, his grandfather said he should swab them with the blood of a hare or distilled water of walnuts. When he was a kid, he had begged his mom to make some kind of rabbit dinner, in the hopes that he could get hold of some blood. The walnut thing just didnât make any sense to a ten-year-old at all.
Sheâd refused, so he had the damn things still. The sign of a true Irishman, his father assured him proudly. Yeah, right . Freckles and blushes and acne. Real sexy .
âMs. Greenwood?â Janelle said again, softly.
Last time she was in the shop, sheâd asked him to call her Janelle. Anything else was silly, sheâd said, considering that she was probably only a few years older than he was. But his manager, Mr. Beaner, was a real stickler and he would have fired Daniel if he heard him getting chummy with a customer.
âUmmâ¦well⦠Hey, thatâs your new tennis dress, isnât it?â Daniel hoped sheâd be willing to change the subject. Heâd helped her pick the dress out yesterday and it looked really hot on her. âDid you get rained out?â
âYeah,â she said, but she didnât seem upset at all. She was the only one in here who wasnât pissed off. âSaved by the storm, thank goodness! I was behind five-love. I told Lincoln I was hopeless and I think heâs finally beginning to believe me.â
Daniel felt the edges of his smile sag. Lincoln Gray was everything Daniel wanted to beâblond, blue-eyed, sophisticated, rich, funnyâ¦and, most of all, old enough to interest Janelle Greenwood.
And boy was she interested. Ever since Gray had arrived in town a couple of weeks ago, Janelle had hung out with him 24/7.
Not that it changed Danielâs life anyâexcept maybe his fantasy life. He still slaved four days a week at the Hideaway, doing all the grunt work his parents could think of, and then three days a week here at The Mangrove. He still had to take orders from Bart Thomas, the kid whoâd owned this job for two years but was leaving it to go off to Duke on a baseball scholarship in the fall.
Bart was a jackass. He was only eighteen, ten months older
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