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threat.”
    “Any automobile that costs a quarter of a million dollars is ridiculous,” Mick said with a snort.
    Rory made a noncommittal sound in response. “Anyway, your arse is going to be there and be social if it kills you.”
    “Oh, fine.”
    “Oh, and Mick?” Rory quickly added, “You have to stay until at least 11. None of this leaving 15 minutes after you get there business.”
    Dammit, Rory knew him too well. M ick sighed. “Fine. I’ll see you at nine o’clock at the pub.”
    Mick checked his watch and decided that he had enough time to run to the warehouse store; he needed supplies to make lunches for the rec center kids he coached. It had been a couple of weeks since he had been able to make it to the little center, and he knew that with school ending—and with it, free lunches and breakfasts—a lot of the kids weren’t going to be eating. He remembered those lean days when he was younger and would never wish that on anyone.
    He went outside to the detached garage. As he bent down to grasp the handle to the garage door, he thought he saw someone looking out a window in the upper unit.
    Once in the garage, he glanced over at the orange Karmann Ghia on the other side of the barrier. Huh. He hadn’t heard the garage door go up, but then, he had the stereo on and Rory yapping in his ear. Surely that was the same car the he had seen circling the house for months. Who is this new neighbor, anyway?
    When he got back from his errands, Mick found a white bakery box on his doorstep. He scooped it up and took it into the house. Unwrapping the baker’s twine, he opened the box, and his face broke into a wide grin. Cookies! Giant cookies, both chocolate chunk and oatmeal raisin. Mick took a chocolate chunk cookie from the package and went to sit on the couch. He opened the note taped to the top of the box. The same neat handwriting thanked him for his flexibility and patience, and hoped the cookies were to his liking. He grinned. Then he bit into the cookie.
    This is the best thing I’ve had in my mouth in years. Just the right amount of chewy and crispy, the chocolate dark, and just a hint of something that he couldn’t quite place.
    He resolved to definitely go over the next day and introduce himself. He might be an introvert, but he wasn’t necessarily rude by nature. And who knows, he just might need a nice cougar to break back into the dating scene.
    He frowned. He wondered if, at 44, he was too old for a cougar.
    Yeah, right. I’m going to need someone to break me in.

Chapter 5     
    “You’re wearing THAT?” Ashley asked. “Oh, no. No, no, no, absolutely not. It may be a smoky pub with drunken Chris Martin wannabes, but you’re absolutely not wearing that out of the house.”
    “What’s the problem with what I’m wearing?” Em looked at her Shakespeare’s Pub shirt (“Two Beers or Not Two Beers”) and her jeans and sneakers. She was neat, not stained, and comfortable. This was fine for a pub.
    Ashley looked pained. “Em, if I had a rack like yours, I would be topless as much possible.”
    Em watched as Ashley started rummaging through her closet, muttering to herself. She pulled out an orange chiffon blouse and held it up triumphantly.
    “ This blouse is a prime example of what you should be wearing all the damn time. You’re racktastic, Em, so flaunt it some. Why do you never wear this shirt?”
    “Maybe I don’t want to flaunt it, Ashley. It’s not like a fat girl having big boobs is some sort of achievement.”
    “Missy, you didn’t answer my question.” Ashley put her hand on her cocked hip and tapped a Louboutin-shod foot, signaling that she wasn’t going to accept a non-answer from Em.
    “It’s too sexy to wear to work.”
    “Are we going into the office to hang out with the nerds? No, we aren’t. It’s perfect to wear to the pub tonight. Come on, chop-chop. You can wear the jeans because they make your ass look fantastic. And wear those boot things—those are