His answer jolted her. “Oh, about nineteen, I’d say.”
“Oh for…good grief! Why, I’m closer to thirty than nineteen!” That was barely true, but she would be twenty-five in September.
“Oh?”
How could a single syllable hold such a great weight of skepticism and doubt? Illogical guilt filled her. She felt as if she’d been caught trying to buy liquor with a phony ID or pretending to be a senior citizen to get a discount.
“I’ll be twenty-five in September, honestly. I can’t help it if I look younger.”
He did look at her then, one quick sidelong glance. He snorted. “A dam’ young twenty-five. Where have you been all your life, kid? Were you raised in a convent?”
Melissa blinked furiously against sudden tears, hurt gaining on anger. “You don’t have to insult me! I’m not totally insensitive. If
