Personal Relations. Heather Macallister

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      1

      DOWNTOWN TRAFFIC had been worse than usual, so Brooke Weathers was later than she liked to be when she pulled her car into the West Houston High parking lot by the auditorium. Several teenagers gathered in clumps by the brick sign. It looked as though the South Pacific rehearsal had already finished.

      She scanned the clumps looking for her dark-haired sister and finally found her draped against a silver Porsche as she talked to the occupants.

      Some father had just had his midlife crisis, Brooke guessed, since the fancy car was out of the league of most of the students here.

      She lowered her window. “Courtney!” she called just as Courtney spotted her. Her sister straightened and gestured for Brooke to come closer.

      Talk about lazy. If Courtney could just be bothered to walk a few extra steps, then Brooke could exit now instead of being forced to drive the entire circuit of the parking lot. She shook her head, but Courtney beckoned again.

      It had been a long day, a day in which Brooke should have stayed an extra half hour at work and would have, if she hadn’t had to pick up Courtney. In spite of the two cars behind her, Brooke shook her head again and gestured back.

      Courtney was mad. She stormed over to the car, jerked open the door, then slammed it shut. “Why wouldn’t you come over there?”

      Brooke got in line for the traffic light. “I didn’t feel like driving all the way around the parking lot just because you were in diva mode.”

      Courtney jammed her shoulder belt into the clasp. “I only wanted you to meet Jeff’s brother.”

      “Who’s Jeff?”

      “You know, the guy who’s working on the sets. That was his brother’s car.” She gave Brooke a sideways look. “His single brother. I told him about you. He acted interested.”

      “Interested in one thing.”

      “Oh, come on Brooke! Lighten up and maybe you could go out with him.”

      “Go out with him?” Brooke crossed her fingers in a warding-off-evil-spirits sign. “An older single man with a Porsche? Have I taught you nothing?”

      “Yeah, how to spend weekends cleaning the house, then rewarding ourselves with microwave popcorn and a video. Whoopee.”

      Brooke actually looked forward to Saturday nights with her sister. “You’re not dateless every Saturday.”

      “You are,” Courtney said quietly.

      “I’m too tired to date!” Brooke laughed.

      Courtney didn’t. “I really wish you’d meet Jeff’s brother.”

      “Thanks, but no thanks.”

      The last thing Brooke needed right now was first-date stress, followed by will-he-call stress, and if he did call, and she did start going out with him, the should-I-or-shouldn’t-I stress. With Courtney watching her every move, it was darn well going to be shouldn’t. Besides, most men didn’t understand why a single woman in her twenties had a self-imposed midnight curfew. But Brooke couldn’t apply one set of rules to her dating life and another to Courtney’s even though Courtney was still in high school. Brooke shuddered just imagining the arguments. It wasn’t worth it.

      What would be worth it was the satisfaction she’d feel when she got Courtney into a good college.

      Then Brooke could enter the dating scene.

      Until then, she didn’t need the stress.

      “YA GOTTA MEET HER, MAN,” Jeff insisted. “If she’s anything like Courtney, she’s hot.”

      Chase Davenport gave his brother a long look, then flicked on his turn signal.

      “I mean hot in a good way,” Jeff tried to explain. “A classy way. Yeah. Classical hot.” He dug in his backpack and withdrew a piece of crumpled notebook paper. “Here’s her phone number.”

      “No thanks,” СКАЧАТЬ