his
ultra-patient professor voice again.
“No! We can’t both stay here! We’re not
married, and my name is definitely not Magdalena—who was, if I have
to remind you, your life’s greatest mistake!”
Drake looked tired. “Just think about, will
you? You’ll be safer here with me than alone. I won’t tell your
secret.” He held up his hands to ward off her next verbal attack.
“Even if you decide to end our marriage.”
“We don’t have a marriage!”
“I promise I won’t tell, either way. But your
lie—and it is a lie—will be more believable with me than without
me.”
“What do you get out of it?”
Drake thought for a moment. “Space.”
“From Melinda?”
He nodded.
“She’s beautiful.”
He nodded again. “She knows that.”
“Poor, pretty professor, trying to ditch all
the gorgeous women chasing him.”
Drake rolled his eyes. “Just think about it.”
He stood quickly and looked at his watch.
“Where are you going?”
He laughed. “Weren’t you listening? I’m
golfing with Daddy Marx.”
“But…we’re not finished.”
He leaned forward and kissed her on the
cheek. “I know.” He waggled his eyebrows at her before turning and
whistling as he walked out the door.
Chapter 18
It takes 286 minutes of walking or 118
minutes of jogging to burn off the 1,040 calories in a breakfast of
French toast topped with berry butter and maple syrup.
From Losing Penny and Pounds
Penny and Wolfgang
took the rocky path that led to the beach. Even with her iPod and
the calls of the gulls, she could hear the tinny, forced sound of
Melinda’s laughter. Obviously she had her cat eyes trained on
Drake, and Penny, aka Magdalena, was in the way. Even though the
idea of interfering with Melinda’s man-pouncing was wildly
appealing and ego-boosting, she had to be prudent.
Her sneakers hit the sand and she turned up
the music and increased her pace. She picked her way through
driftwood toward the tide-soaked sand, which made the ground more
solid and her run easier.
She didn’t know anything about Drake other
than the fact that he was handsome and charismatic, and the same
could be said for any number of stalkers. Melinda thought Drake was
worth having, but Penny and Melinda undoubtedly used different
measuring sticks when it came to…almost anything, really. Not just
men.
Not that Penny had ever had any men to
measure, except for her dad and her brother. She dreamed of an
Atticus Fitch sort of man—kind, loving, generous, a quiet gentle
wit. Everything that Melinda was not.
Penny scolded herself for being so harsh.
Melinda was no longer a teenager and neither was Penny. Undoubted
they both had changed; everybody grows up.
Penny tried not to think about those summers
living next to the Marx family, but no matter how fast her pace,
she couldn’t get away from the frumpy girl sitting behind the food
table at the Marx’s summer parties. Those were the years before the
Watchdog, the years when her hand-me-down clothes came in great big
black trash bags from the girls who attended her aunt’s church.
Richard picked through the bags, immediately tossing anything that
said, “juicy” or “sexy.” Anything too tight or too short was also
thrown out…and back then, everything was too tight. Which left her
with gifts from Aunt Mae—pink dresses, floral tops, babydoll eyelet
frights. She’d spent years hiding in Richard’s sweatshirts and
workout pants. He didn’t always appreciate this, but since she did
his laundry, he couldn’t really complain.
Melinda hadn’t been mean, she just hadn’t
seen Penny. Penny had wanted to be invisible. And now Drake, an
incredibly beautiful man, wanted to be invisible, too. He wanted to
hide from Melinda behind “Plump Penny.” But Penny could choose
whether or not to let him.
She didn’t know if it was a risk she was
willing to take. He could be another stalker, a Chester the
molester, or Ron the rapist. Penny stopped and looked at
ultra-patient professor voice again.
“No! We can’t both stay here! We’re not
married, and my name is definitely not Magdalena—who was, if I have
to remind you, your life’s greatest mistake!”
Drake looked tired. “Just think about, will
you? You’ll be safer here with me than alone. I won’t tell your
secret.” He held up his hands to ward off her next verbal attack.
“Even if you decide to end our marriage.”
“We don’t have a marriage!”
“I promise I won’t tell, either way. But your
lie—and it is a lie—will be more believable with me than without
me.”
“What do you get out of it?”
Drake thought for a moment. “Space.”
“From Melinda?”
He nodded.
“She’s beautiful.”
He nodded again. “She knows that.”
“Poor, pretty professor, trying to ditch all
the gorgeous women chasing him.”
Drake rolled his eyes. “Just think about it.”
He stood quickly and looked at his watch.
“Where are you going?”
He laughed. “Weren’t you listening? I’m
golfing with Daddy Marx.”
“But…we’re not finished.”
He leaned forward and kissed her on the
cheek. “I know.” He waggled his eyebrows at her before turning and
whistling as he walked out the door.
Chapter 18
It takes 286 minutes of walking or 118
minutes of jogging to burn off the 1,040 calories in a breakfast of
French toast topped with berry butter and maple syrup.
From Losing Penny and Pounds
Penny and Wolfgang
took the rocky path that led to the beach. Even with her iPod and
the calls of the gulls, she could hear the tinny, forced sound of
Melinda’s laughter. Obviously she had her cat eyes trained on
Drake, and Penny, aka Magdalena, was in the way. Even though the
idea of interfering with Melinda’s man-pouncing was wildly
appealing and ego-boosting, she had to be prudent.
Her sneakers hit the sand and she turned up
the music and increased her pace. She picked her way through
driftwood toward the tide-soaked sand, which made the ground more
solid and her run easier.
She didn’t know anything about Drake other
than the fact that he was handsome and charismatic, and the same
could be said for any number of stalkers. Melinda thought Drake was
worth having, but Penny and Melinda undoubtedly used different
measuring sticks when it came to…almost anything, really. Not just
men.
Not that Penny had ever had any men to
measure, except for her dad and her brother. She dreamed of an
Atticus Fitch sort of man—kind, loving, generous, a quiet gentle
wit. Everything that Melinda was not.
Penny scolded herself for being so harsh.
Melinda was no longer a teenager and neither was Penny. Undoubted
they both had changed; everybody grows up.
Penny tried not to think about those summers
living next to the Marx family, but no matter how fast her pace,
she couldn’t get away from the frumpy girl sitting behind the food
table at the Marx’s summer parties. Those were the years before the
Watchdog, the years when her hand-me-down clothes came in great big
black trash bags from the girls who attended her aunt’s church.
Richard picked through the bags, immediately tossing anything that
said, “juicy” or “sexy.” Anything too tight or too short was also
thrown out…and back then, everything was too tight. Which left her
with gifts from Aunt Mae—pink dresses, floral tops, babydoll eyelet
frights. She’d spent years hiding in Richard’s sweatshirts and
workout pants. He didn’t always appreciate this, but since she did
his laundry, he couldn’t really complain.
Melinda hadn’t been mean, she just hadn’t
seen Penny. Penny had wanted to be invisible. And now Drake, an
incredibly beautiful man, wanted to be invisible, too. He wanted to
hide from Melinda behind “Plump Penny.” But Penny could choose
whether or not to let him.
She didn’t know if it was a risk she was
willing to take. He could be another stalker, a Chester the
molester, or Ron the rapist. Penny stopped and looked at
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