Now that he thought about it, he wasn’t sure how he felt about his old pal dating his little sister, but he suspected that no matter what guy she brought home, they would never be good enough in his eyes. Although, he would be more than happy if she died a virginal old maid.

He voiced his concerns to his mother. “Tell Dad that when I come over for our next family dinner, he and I can team up on the guy and see what he’s all about.”

“Jonathon Michael Bradshaw,” his mother scolded, “don’t you dare! Your sister is as happy as a clam and I won’t have you boys trying to ruin it for her. Just let her be.”

“I promise not to ruin it,” Jon said whole-heartedly, “but you know as well as I do that this guy needs to go through the Bradshaw test. It’s tradition.”

She sighed in resignation. “Fine, do what you have to do, but keep it simple. Nothing too extreme, got it? I think she really likes this one.”

That was the last thing Jon wanted to hear. Casey was too good for any guy, especially any guy he had ever hung out with, but he wasn’t her warden. The best he could do is subject Mike to the best torture he could come up with and see if he had the wherewithal to stick around. “I’ll do my best to rein it in, but I can’t speak for Dad.”

“You let me worry about your father. So, what’s this about a new woman you’re dating?”

That threw Jon for a loop. “I don’t recall saying anything about dating anyone,” he said, confused.

“Oh, sweetie, you didn’t have to. It’s a mother’s job to know these things.”

“Are you spying on me?” He looked around the room, only half-joking. Still, temptation clawed at him to draw the curtains and shut off all the lights to check for any red, blinking lights hidden in the potted plants.

“Are you kidding? Where would I find the time?” she squeaked in protest. “Besides, that’s what the private investigator I hired is for.”

“I can totally see you doing that,” Jon said, somewhat serious. His mother loved her children so much, she’d probably move in with them if given half a chance just to make sure they had on clean underwear each day.

“You make me sound like such an ogre, Jon, seriously,” she complained.

“Then tell me how you simply knew I was seeing someone,” he challenged.

“It was the way you said life was treating you well. I could hear that dopey smile all the way through the telephone. So, who is she and when do I get to meet her?”

He did not have a dopey smile. Sometimes, Jon thought to himself, mothers could be just plain cruel. “Her name is Patricia Jacobs, and I don’t know. We’ve only been out the one time. It’s all very new still.”

She shrugged his excuse off. “New is good. New is exciting. So where did you take her for your date?”

“Just to dinner. She’s great, Mom,” Jon said softly, a hint of sadness seeping into his voice.

His mother’s tone softened to match his. “If you picked her, then I know she is.”

“I’m worried I’ll mess it all up,” he croaked. He swallowed past the growing lump in his throat.

“Oh, honey, as long as you don’t stand in the way of your own happiness, you won’t.”

The problem with that was that Jon had no idea how to step out of his own way. He wasn’t sure he even deserved to.

Clearing her throat, his mother switched gears. “You should bring her with you,” she chirped.

“What, to the dinner?” Jon asked, his brows pinching as he tried to keep up with her.

“Sure, that too! But I meant to the yard sale. Bring her along. Your dad and I would love to meet her.”

Jon let loose a boisterous laugh. “Um, no. I have enough problems holding onto the women in my life as it is. The last thing I need is to have her frightened away by my family before I get to know her myself.”

“You’re so dramatic,” his mother accused. “It’s not as if we’d do anything to embarrass you.”

“Not on purpose, no,” Jon agreed.

“Fine, I’m throwing my hands up,” his mother said in exasperation. “At least promise me you’ll consider it.”

Jon rolled his eyes. “Okay, I promise I’ll consider it.”

“Good, I’ll see you two then. Love you, sweetie, bye!”

Jon’s mouth gaped open. “That little trickster,” he muttered. No matter what, his mother always found a way to get what she wanted, and she’d just locked him into not only bringing Patricia along to a family gathering, but to a block sale that was bound to be nothing short of eventful.

Patti laughed so hard she choked on her soda.

“You okay there? You’re not going to die on me are ya?” Jules reached across the table and pounded her on the back.

“I’m good,” Patti wheezed, raising her hand to ward off the beating. “I’m okay.”

Jules sat back in the chair and picked at her cinnamon raisin bagel. “As I was saying, I just don’t know why any guy would ever wear a bra. I don’t care if they are for men or not, it’s just not acceptable attire for a man.”

“Maybe he has moobs,” Patti offered, trying to keep a straight face.

“Oh, he had moobs alright,” Jules said with wide eyes. She looked down as she cupped her breasts. “Put these puppies to shame.”

Patti reached out and placed a comforting hand on Jules’ arm. “Aw, sweetie, are you jealous?”

“That my date filled out his bra better than I do?” Jules screeched. “Hell yes I’m jealous!” She muttered a few choice words as she picked apart her bagel, placing the raisins in a pile on her napkin.

“Why do you buy those if you don’t like the raisins?” Patti asked her.

“Because I like the cinnamon, duh.” Jules rolled her eyes as though the question were absurd. “So you never said…how did your date with that guy turn out?”

Patti felt her face flame as she thought about what they’d done right out in the open on her front porch. “It went ‘well’?”

Jules sat up and hunched over the table. “How well is ‘well’?”

Patti sucked in a breath, considering how much was too much to tell. Screw it. Girls didn’t hold out on their friends. “Well enough to need a bucket of aloe vera for my back the next day.”

Jules slapped her arm, hard. “Shut the front door! You two had sex?”

Patti’s eyes darted around the noisy café. “Shhh!” she hissed, shoving her away while at the same time leaning closer. Their heads met in the center of the table so they could speak without being overheard. “No, we didn’t have sex, but we might as well have.”

“Then how did your back get all messed up?” Jules asked, her gaze sliding to the space beyond her shoulder, as if she might be able to catch a glimpse of the damage through her clothing if she stared hard enough.

“Let’s just say that when a guy pins you against a wall of wood covered in chipped paint, you’re bound to feel it in the morning.”

“Shut up! You fooled around on the front porch?” Jules hissed, both shocked and intrigued by the concept. She slumped back in her chair. “I swear you are just as bad as Piper.

Patti pointed an offended finger at her. “Hey, at least it was dark out, and it wasn’t like I had my skirt hiked up around my waist in the middle of the restaurant. Jon was a gentleman,” she sniffed.

Jules snorted. “Name one ‘gentleman’ who would feel up a woman on the first date, in public no less?”

“Mr. Darcy,” she said definitively.

“What?” Jules spluttered. “Mr. Darcy would never do such a thing. He was a gentleman.”

“He was a jerk and—”

“He. Was. A gentleman.” Jules’ wide eyes and dangerous tone had Patti falling over in a fit of giggles.

“You’re too easy,” she panted. Jules had always been a diehard romantic, and her idea of epic romance had been, since the age of thirteen, Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice.

“Ninny,” Jules said petulantly, and stuck out her tongue. Her hollow anger dissolved in an instant and she snatched up Patti’s wrist, bringing it closer for inspection. “Where the hell did you get those bruises?”