Read Online Reinventing Mel: A Hellion MC Novel by J.A. Hornbuckle - Free Book Online

around, the half-hour flew by but on that day it dragged.  I was disappointed but, more importantly, I wondered if he was avoiding me.  What if Silo and Bishop were right and he wanted to take things slow?  Had I moved too fast the night before in initiating the second and deeper, more exciting kiss?  Obviously my suggestion of going upstairs hadn't been acceptable but we'd somehow gotten beyond it.
I felt my face heat as I considered how forward I'd been.
I didn't usually question myself but the biker's words of advice had me rethinking things and kept my mind engaged throughout the rest of my day.  The end of which came pretty quickly. 
My local store had a wonderful selection of both fabric and patterns almost spoiling me for choice.  I knew that making clothes was becoming a dying art and was sometimes more expensive than just going out and buying something to wear.   But there was something about the meticulousness of designing, working a pattern and then putting the cut pieces together that gave me a sense of satisfaction.  Satisfaction in both creating something myself and in not wearing what every other woman wore.
After my dinner-for-one frozen entrée, I grabbed one of my handmade velvet roses and went to see Mrs. Pasternak. 
"Hey, Mrs. P.  I just came by to return your loaf pan and to thank you for your note," I said smiling as cheerily as I could into the lined and sweet face of my neighbor who seemed to love my little gift.
"Come in, Lulu!  It's so nice to see you."  The older woman's place was a treasure of antiques and crystal knickknacks.  "I have a pot of decaf on and just a couple of brownies left if you want to take a seat.  How're you getting on, dear?"
"Great.  Just great.  All moved in and except for painting the walls, just about settled."
"Saw that nice young man at your door last night.  Missoula has a pretty good selection of available men, don't you think?"
Holy cow, Mel hadn't been kidding about the eyes at the peepholes in our apartment building!
"Yes.  He took me to Boots.  It was fun!"  I tried to keep my shock from both my face and my voice at how she'd just let me know that she was spying on me and my date.
Mrs. P. brought out a tray that held a carafe of coffee, cups with saucers and a plate piled high with what appeared to be dark chocolate brownies. 
Dark chocolate was my kryptonite.
"Boot's?  Oh yes.  That's the new name for what used to be known as 'Dirty Donna's'.   A place where I heard women danced with their tops off," Mr. P announced with a frown which I assumed was one of judgment.
I held back a giggle at the look of disgust on the older woman's face as she sat opposite me.  I didn't have an opinion on exotic dancers one way or the other figuring a girl had to make money to survive any way she possibly could.
"I was hoping you could fill me in on the man who was looking for me last night."  I was anxious to hear what information she had, knowing it would lead me in deciding my next move.  One I hoped didn't find me loading up my cute little Fiat and high-tailing it out of town.
"Oh, he wasn't looking for you, dear.  He wanted information about you more like."
"Information?"
"Yes, what you looked like and where you were working.  How long you lived here, et cetera, et cetera."  I watched as she waved a flowery clad arm around to indicate the amount of questions the stranger seemed to ask.  "Seemed entirely too inquisitive for me."
"Do you remember what he looked like?" I prodded.
I watched the halo of her fluffy white hair wave as she nodded.  Grandmother Palmer had often said that when a woman's hair changed with age it either became a scouring pad or cotton candy.  Mrs. P's had obviously gone to the sweet side of the equation.
 "A tall distinguished fella, maybe late forties, early fifties.  Just the beginning of white showing at the temples.  Dark blonde hair.  Dressed spiffy-like, you know, in a nice suit with a tie.  We don't see a lot of