Love Scars Read Online Free Page A

didn’t…”
    “Pay? No. I should have, but no. I didn’t blow my cover.”
    “That had to be hard on your manhood, letting your angel pay.”
    “Maybe I paid for the keg a little bit.”
    We stopped at the Raley’s at Douglas and Auburn-Folsom so I could pick up a bottle of booze. Despite ragging on Brad about paying, I wasn’t crashing a party empty-handed. Even with the stop, the girls lived only about twenty minutes from BlueMagick. Brad was right. I could ride the Pashley from there to my place in Granite Bay.
    Judging by the one-story, ranch-style architecture, the house was built in the 1960s or ’70s. The long driveway was lined with lilacs in bloom. Brad drove past all the cars and trucks and found a parking spot at the side of the house.
    “You always get a place up front.” I shook my head.
    “That’s because I expect one. Most people don’t even look.”
    That about summed up Brad’s philosophy of life: Expect all good things, and then go get them.
    “Wait,” I said, halfway out of his SUV. “So what do they know about us?” 
    “I’m a mid-level manager at BlueMagick,” he said. “In accounting. Oh, and I’m your boss.”
    “Right.”
    “You just started two weeks ago, so you don’t know much about the company. You’re an entry-level programmer who got laid off in the recession, and you haven’t had a job for three years.”
    “This is supposed to make me attractive to a woman?”
    “You’ll do fine.” Brad chuckled and closed his door. “You clean up good.” He does laugh at his own jokes.
    An old Crowded House song blasted from speakers in the backyard. The sun had just dipped below the oak trees, and in the twilight the early stars blinked at the crescent moon. I felt oddly happy. It was ages since I’d taken on a challenge without being certain of the outcome.
    We went through a side gate to the back of the house. There was a keg on the lawn and a bar on the back deck. A tall blonde in cutoffs stood out among the dancers on the grass.
    “That’s her,” Brad said. “My angel.”
    I’d known the guy since sixth grade. He was always a romantic, but never so hopeless. “She’s great,” I said.
    The air was warm and smelled of night jasmine, and I breathed the scent deep into my lungs. The house was shabby, but nothing serious maintenance and updating couldn’t put right. The property itself was another story. It was already invading my senses, permeating my soul.
    The rolling lawn, the oak trees, and the granite outcroppings set me at ease. A path ran along the side of the yard past the boulders to what might be a Japanese garden. I was suddenly homesick.
    “You go ahead,” I said. “I’m going to walk around a bit first. Get a sense of things. And Brad: may the best man win.”
    “Dude, I thought you were on my side.” Brad made a face and headed straight for his angel.
    I followed the dirt path lined with rocks and driftwood to a rock garden with a small fountain and a few bonsai. The best thing was a lush Japanese maple that spread in an arch at the top of a rise in the path. The tree had to be forty or fifty years old. I walked under the leafy green arch into a magical kingdom of color.
    There were roses everywhere, reds, yellows, whites, pinks. Dutch iris and a few late daffodils, dahlias, azaleas. Many more flowers whose names I didn’t know. The roses were in their first bloom of the season and smelled wonderful. The flower garden was separated from a vegetable garden by two topiary plants shaped like alpacas—weird but great—and a few rabbit topiary at the alpacas’ feet.
    I picked a newly opened American Beauty, a perfect mix of yellow and pink, and sat down on a cast iron bench next to the statue of a mischievous fairy. I held the flower to my nose, drinking in its fragrance. I wanted to go straight to the airport and fly the Lear up to Seattle, grab Mom and Scarlett and bring them down here to see this. They’d fall in love with it.
    A charge of