Chapter Twenty-Eight
The phone call that afternoon took her entirely by surprise.
“Joey,” she said, half-laughing, “I’m not ready.”
His throaty chuckle warmed the phone line and then he said, “Not why I’m calling, babe, though I’m always open.”
That, she thought, was a literal truth.
“Come to think of it,” she said, “I don’t think I’ve ever heard from you before sunset before.”
He laughed again and then said, “Really, I do have a reason for calling.”
She waited, in no mood for the banter and suggestiveness that usually characterized their conversations.
“I went bowling the other night…”
She burst into laughter. “Okay, the daylight thing was hard enough to handle. Is this Joey Jackman? The musician?”
“Hey, I’ve got roots,” he protested. “I bowl with the guys from the bar, sometime
