by MJ Duncan
It had been years since a woman affected her this acutely, and Joss smiled as she turned off her phone and jammed it into her pocket. “Hey. How’s it going?”
“It’s going.” Maeve tucked her hair behind her ears and pushed her glasses back into place. “I’m just running some errands. George is almost out of food, and I needed to pick up some groceries for the week. What about you?”
Joss blew out a quiet breath and ran a hand through her hair. “I’m taking a well-deserved lunch break. It was an absolute zoo at the shop this morning.”
“That’s good though, right?”
“Oh yeah. Absolutely. It just makes for a really long day.”
“I’ll bet,” Maeve commiserated with a kind smile. “What time are you done tonight?”
The guy behind the counter called out “Thirty-two!”, and Joss double-checked her little slip to make sure it was not hers as she answered, “Six. We close early on Sundays.”
“Well, at least your day’s almost over with, then.”
“If only.” Joss shook her head ruefully. “I promised a friend I would play softball tonight because his team is down a player.”
“Oh. Did you play in college?”
“Just for my sorority in intramurals. How about you?”
Maeve chuckled and leaned in closer as if confessing a deep, dark secret she wished to keep quiet. “I am completely hopeless when it comes to sports that require even the slightest amount of hand-eye coordination. It’s pathetic, really. My brothers love to tease me about it even now.”
The intoxicating scent of citrus and amber from Maeve’s perfume lingered for a few heartbeats even after she pulled away, and Joss swallowed hard in an attempt to wet her suddenly dry throat. “How many brothers do you have?”
“Two. How about you?”
“It’s just me.” Joss sighed and changed the subject as the guy behind the counter called for the next number. “Is your family nearby?”
Maeve shook her head. “Nope. They’re all back in Chicago.”
Sky, Colorado was a world away from the bustling Midwest metropolis, and Joss arched a brow in surprise. “So, how’d you end up here?”
The smile that had tugged at Maeve’s lips the entire time they had been talking dimmed, and her right shoulder lifted in what Joss was sure was supposed to look like a nonchalant shrug. “Long story.”
“Sorry,” Joss murmured, not knowing what else to say. Maeve had been so upbeat and affable in all of their run-ins so far, that she was completely thrown by the shadow of past hurt that clouded her expression.
Maeve rolled her eyes and sighed. “It’s fine. Anyway—”
“Thirty-four!” the guy behind the counter called out, interrupting their conversation.
Even though she knew that was her number, Joss still double-checked her little paper before she looked up at Maeve with an apologetic smile. “That’s me. Sorry.”
“Don’t be,” Maeve assured her, a ghost of her earlier smile once again settling on her lips. “I should get going anyway. Lord knows what kind of trouble George is getting into at home right now. I just saw you in here when I was walking by and thought I’d pop in to say hello.”
“Thirty-four!”
Joss rolled her eyes and held up her hand to signal she would be right there. “Somebody’s anxious,” she grumbled, and grinned at the throaty laugh the comment elicited from Maeve. “I’ll see you around?”
“Definitely,” Maeve agreed with a small nod. “Have a good rest of your day.”
“You too.” Even though the guy behind the counter was waiting on her, Joss did not move as she watched Maeve leave, too distracted by the way Maeve’s jeans hugged her ass to care that she was holding up the line. She bit her lip and waved when Maeve glanced back at her just before stepping out the door, and shook her head when she disappeared from view. Damn, she’s gorgeous. “Sorry,” she apologized to the man behind the counter. “Can I get a turkey, Swiss, and mustard on a hard roll?”
“Dressing?”
Joss nodded. The house dressing the deli put on their sandwiches was what made them so much better than every other sandwich shop in town. “Yes, please.”
She jammed her hands into the front pockets of her jeans as she watched him make her lunch, her eyes tracking the process as her thoughts drifted to Maeve. Seeing her had been a most welcome surprise, and Joss felt like an ass for ruining what had been an otherwise pleasant conversation. Not that she could have known that the reasons behind Maeve’s move would evoke such a response, but still. It was clearly something big, and while Joss was curious about the story behind Maeve’s reaction, she was more sorry that she had said something to upset her.
In the end, though, she mused as she paid for her lunch and started back to Atramentum, the fact that Maeve had interrupted her errands to come into the deli to say hello at least meant that her bumbling earlier had not completely scared the blonde off. Joss was still lost in her thoughts when the door to Atramentum closed behind her, the bell above the door announcing her return, and she shook her head as she dropped the plastic bag on the counter. No matter how much she wished otherwise, there was nothing about Maeve Dylan that pinged her gaydar, and she was being ridiculous trying to read something into what was just a friendly conversation.
“Stupid,” she muttered to herself as she scanned the shop for Scott, who was nowhere to be seen. She pulled a bottled water from the small, dorm-style fridge tucked beneath the front counter—a much more convenient place than in the back because there was usually only one person working at a time—and rolled her eyes as she dropped onto the stool beside the register.
“What’s stupid?” Scott asked, smirking as he popped out from between some nearby shelves while Dickens glared at him from his bed in the front window for disturbing his sleep.
“Nothing,” Joss said. Willy Shakes jumped onto the counter and purred as she scratched the top of his head. “Everything go okay here while I was gone?”
“Of course.” He leaned against the end of a nearby shelf and studied Joss carefully. “You seem off. Are you sure everything is okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine. You look broody.”
“I am not ‘broody’.” She sighed and shook her head. He was giving her that look that said he did not believe her, and she knew that he would keep pestering her until she gave him something. “I ran into Maeve at the deli,” she admitted as she began unwrapping her lunch, hating the knowing look that flashed across his face.
“I see,” he drawled, cocking his head interestedly. “And how is your beautiful, yet mysterious neighbor.”
Joss snorted out a laugh. “Is that your best creepy screenwriter impersonation?”
“Not even close.” He grinned. “To do it right, I need an ugly Hawaiian shirt, boxer shorts with a hole worn in the crotch from excessive, thoughtful scratching, three-day-old stubble, and an old, manual typewriter.”
Joss chuckled as she took a bite out of her sandwich, and covered her mouth with her hand as she said, “That’s quite the mental picture you just painted there.”
“Yeah. I’m awesome.” Scott buffed his fingernails on his shoulder. “Seriously though. You saw Maeve? What happened?”
“Nothing happened. She was out running errands, saw me waiting at the deli, and stopped in to say hi.”
“Well, that sounds promising…”
Joss rolled her eyes. I wish. “She was just being nice.”
“You don’t know that for sure.”
“No, I don’t. I do, however, know that you have not told me the details about this softball game I’ve agreed to take part in.”
“Ooh. Smooth segue.” He laughed. “But, fine. I’ll drop it. Game is at eight on field two over at the high school, so you’ll have time to grab dinner beforehand. We usually start warming up like an hour before just so everybody has time to get a little batting practice in. You still play middle-infield?”
Joss shrugged. �
�I can play wherever as long as it’s not pitcher,” she told him as she took another bite from her sandwich.
He nodded. “So…Maeve…”
“Drop it, Heitz,” Joss warned around a mouthful of food.
Her words may have been garbled, but her glare more than got her point across, and he laughed as he held his hands up in surrender. “Whatever you say, boss-lady.” He tipped his head toward the back of the store and added, “I’m going to get started shelving some of that inventory we have piled up in the hallway.”
Joss swallowed and nodded. “Yeah. You go do that.” She lifted her sandwich. “I’m just gonna stay here, eat my lunch, and watch.”
“Oh, well, in that case,” Scott drawled, waggling his eyebrows and doing a perfectly cringe-worthy shimmy, “I’ll make sure to try and give you a good show.”
Joss laughed and threw a crumbled receipt at him. “You’re such a dork.”
Scott winked at her as he gave a small bow. “That’s why you love me.”
“If you say so,” Joss retorted, shaking her head. “Go do something useful. I’ll be back to help as soon as I finish eating.”
Six
It was routine, plain and simple, that drove Joss from her bed when her alarm blared at half-past six the next morning. The game the night before had gone better than she could have hoped. Somehow, despite having not set foot on a field in ages, she managed to go three-for-four with two singles and an inexplicable triple thanks to a series of overthrows that had the other team swearing up a blue streak, but she was paying for it all now. Her back and shoulders ached from swinging a bat and throwing a ball around for the first time in years, and she groaned as she stepped onto the porch and closed the front door behind her.
“Christ, I’m old,” she muttered as she walked down the steps, stretching her arms up over her head to try to ease the ache that had settled in her muscles overnight. The stretching helped, though not as much as she might have liked, and she shook her head as she dropped her arms to her sides and started jogging up the driveway toward the lake.
The game had ended around ten, but she had hung out in the parking lot afterwards to catch up with the handful of guys on the team she and Scott had gone to high school with, which meant that she did not get home until well after eleven. She could have used a few more hours’ sleep, but she had had so much fun running around the field playing ball—something she had not realized she missed so badly until she was out there—that it was worth the exhaustion that was making her legs feel heavy and slow this morning.
The crisp air and the steady pounding of her feet against the dirt helped push the lingering fatigue from her system, and by the time she reached the lake, she was beginning to feel like her usual self. She picked up her pace as she followed the narrow trail through the woods along the edge of the water, and let her thoughts drift to the things she had to do that day.
There were boxes of books in the hall beside the office that needed to be shelved, and she had to go through the electronic record of sales from the week before so she knew what to order to restock their inventory. Both chores would have typically been completed the day before, but the insanity from the morning had picked up again not long after she finished eating lunch, and she and Scott had been too busy helping customers to get any of their usual housekeeping-type tasks done.
More immediately pressing than either of those tasks, however, were her bare pantry shelves and the dirty clothes overflowing from her hamper. Her Sunday nights were reserved for grocery shopping and laundry, but because she had gone to the sporting goods store after work for a glove, by the time she got home, changed, and scarfed down a frozen dinner that was barely palatable, it was time for her to head to the field. Thankfully however, Mondays were one of the two nights during the week that Scott stayed late to close up, so she would at least have time later that evening to begin chipping away at her personal to-do list.
She was in the middle of compiling a mental shopping list when she broke out of the woods at the edge of Maeve’s lawn, and she smiled when she spotted George sprinting toward her, looking even more excited than she had the day before. George’s lips flopped comically with every bounding leap, and Joss laughed as she danced out of the dog’s way so she would not get run over.
“Hey, you,” she greeted as she scratched behind George’s ears. “Is this going to be a daily thing for us? Should I start bringing you treats?”
George perked up at the word “treats” and looked at Joss expectantly, her tail wagging a mile a minute.
“Should’ve known you’d know that word,” Joss muttered as George began sniffing at her shorts. “These things don’t have pockets, bud. I’ve got nothing for you.”
George huffed what sounded like a completely disgruntled breath and glared at Joss.
“Right. Sorry. I will add Milk-Bones to my shopping list,” Joss told her. That seemed to appease George, because her tongue lolled out of her mouth as she sat down and bumped her head under Joss’ hand, content to just sit there and be loved on. “You are too much, George Dylan. You know that?”
George closed her eyes and sighed.
After a few more minutes of scratching behind George’s ears and under her chin, Joss patted her on the head and pulled her hands away. “Okay, you. That’s it. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
George stood up and shook, and then looked expectantly at her.
“You’re going to follow me again, aren’t you?”
She knew that she was projecting human traits onto the dog, but Joss could have sworn that George grinned.
“Fine. Let’s take you back to your mom…”
Joss started across the lawn, not at all surprised the George followed her step-for-step. She was, however, surprised when she spotted Maeve watching them from a chair at the table on the wide stone patio that spanned the back of the house. Maeve was dressed similarly to the morning before—blue hoodie, black yoga pants, bare feet, hair that was so sexily tousled that it should have been illegal—and had a cup of coffee that was still sending thin tendrils of steam up into the cool morning air. There was an open spiral notebook on the table in front of her and a pen dangling from her fingers, and Joss smiled apologetically for interrupting as she neared the steps.
“I swear I’m not trying to steal your dog.”
Maeve grinned and gave Joss a look that seemed to say, Uh-huh. Sure. “George Dylan, get up here.”
George stared straight at Maeve and then sat on Joss’ left foot.
“I swear to God that dog was perfectly well-behaved before she met you,” Maeve grumbled, rolling her eyes in amusement. “George, come on.”
George let out a loud yawn and laid down, her behind still anchoring Joss’ foot in place.
Joss laughed and arched a disbelieving brow at Maeve. “Are you sure about that?”
Maeve chuckled and shook her head. “I don’t even know anymore.” She ran a hand through her hair, and Joss bit her lip as she watched the way the platinum strands fluttered back into place. “I’m sorry she ruined your run again.”
“She didn’t ruin anything.” Joss wiggled her foot that was trapped beneath George’s butt. “She was just saying hello.”
“Yes, well, at least she didn’t tackle you this time,” Maeve noted wryly.
“Yeah. Once was enough for that.” Joss smiled and rolled her shoulders. “I’m still sore from last night.”
“That’s right. How did your game go?” Maeve sat up straighter. “I’m sorry. Where are my manners? Let me get you a cup of coffee.”
“Nah, that’s okay. I’m good,” Joss said. “I don’t want to put you out.”
“Yes, because sticking a fresh pod in the coffee machine is so much work.” Maeve smiled. “If you have time, it really isn’t any trouble.”
Joss nodded, unable to resist the alluring smile curving Maeve’s lips. She would have to rush through the rest of her morning to ensure that this impromptu coffee break did not make her too late, but that was a
small price to pay to spend a little time with Maeve. “Okay then. Yeah. A cup of coffee sounds wonderful, thank you.”
Maeve’s smile widened as she pushed herself to her feet. “Great. I’ll be right back.”
George’s tail thumped three times against the grass before she rolled onto her back and looked up at Joss, front legs folded in a way that clearly commanded, Rub my belly.
“You look way too pleased with yourself, missy,” Joss said as she crouched beside the dog and began scratching her belly. “Was this all part of your evil plan?”
George yawned and turned her head just enough to look at Joss.
Joss rolled her eyes. “Of course it was. Does she ignore you? Is that why you keep hunting me down?”
“It is not possible to ignore that one,” Maeve declared in an amused tone as she sauntered back onto the patio with a steaming mug identical to the one she had left on the table. “She won’t allow it. Here you go.”
George flipped over, jumped to her feet, and ran up the stairs and into the house.
Joss smiled as she took the coffee Maeve offered her. “Thanks.” She pulled out the chair beside Maeve’s and looked through the open slider at George, who was making herself comfortable on a sofa, as she sat down. “Your dog is a real kick in the ass—you know that, right?”
“She’s definitely full of personality.” Maeve picked up her coffee and tucked her feet up under herself. She looked over her shoulder at George and sighed. “She’s a good dog, though. You know, when she’s not running off and randomly assaulting people.”
“It wasn’t that bad.” Joss sipped at her coffee as she leaned back in her chair and crossed her legs. Her eyes landed on the open notebook on the table that was filled with neatly printed lines of text that had sections scratched out and others circled. There were little drawings doodled in the margins, bumpy waves that traced the edge of the coiled wire that bound the notebook, and a rough timeline or something equally linear sketched in the white margin that spanned the top of the page.