27
Mark knew perfectly well that Gracie was nervous. He was so attuned to her by now that he could judge her mood by the way the color came and went in her cheeks. He plugged his iPod into the sound system and sang along to every goofy tune he could find. They played a few more rounds of twenty questions, until they knew every teensy fact about each other, all the way down to their biggest celebrity crushes and their favorite midnight snacks.
By mid-afternoon, when they finally reached the Malibu bungalow where Laine Thibodeau lived, at least Gracie didn’t look like she was going to explode from sheer nerves. He considered that a personal triumph.
“How do I look?” she asked as they made their way down the terracotta steps that led past thick bougainvillea in mauve and vibrant royal purp
