Sisters of Summer’s End

by Lori Foster

  That didn’t explain why Maris was suddenly so keen on Joy dating. “So...what’s going on?”

  Maris lifted her brows. “What do you mean?”

  Ha! That innocent look didn’t cut it. “You’re up to something. We’ve known each other five years now and you’ve never asked me about dating.”

  “Sure I did. You just didn’t answer much, so I let it go.”

  Ouch. That could be true.

  “Gawd, don’t look guilty,” Maris said. “Here’s the thing. You were quiet, I was swamped, so we let it go, right? But know what? I’m thirty-one now. Freaking thirty-one.”

  “Oh my God,” Joy said, amazed that their thoughts seemed to be on the same track. “I’m thirty now, so I know exactly what you mean.”

  “Yesterday,” Maris said, “this lady came in with three kids, one of them a newborn. She and her husband were frazzled and happy, and they said it was their first vacation after buying their house. Guess how old that woman was.”

  Joy said, “Um...thirty-ish?”

  “Twenty-nine. Two years younger than me.”

  “Younger than us,” Joy corrected.

  “Right, but you have a kid. A great kid.” Maris propped her head on her hand. “My point is, I can’t do the whole family and home thing—but you can. Heck, you’re already halfway there.”

  Family? Joy almost choked, since her family didn’t want anything to do with her. She knew that wasn’t what Maris meant, though. “You can’t do it...why?”

  “It’s not my thing.” Maris shrugged that off with haste. “You’re great at being a mom. Heck, you’re great at everything you do. So the least I can do is lend a hand, and maybe give you a push.”

  After all that, Maris smiled, as if she’d explained everything to her satisfaction and Joy should be jumping on board.

  When Joy just blinked at her, Maris said, “Consider this your push.”

  It was almost laughable, but also very sweet. Joy said with feeling, “Thank you so much. Even though I don’t have any hot prospects, I appreciate the offer.”

  “That’s what friends are for, right?”

  Joy had no real idea, but she nodded, anyway. “The same from me. If I can do anything for you, please just let me know.”

  “Great. Know what you can do? After you meet with the new owner, let me know if he’s as gorgeous as everyone says he is. I’m dying of curiosity.”

  “Right, okay. Sure.” Wondering if she’d misread this entire conversation, Joy offered, “If you want, I could mention you to him...?”

  Maris blinked at her, then laughed. “We’re talking about you, not me, but thanks.” She nodded at the coffee. “Good?”

  After another, more cautious sip, Joy sighed. “Mmm. Of course. You make the best coffee.”

  “True story.” Maris suddenly sniffed the air. “Be right back.”

  So much for Maris’s break. “Whatever that is smells delicious.” Through the last five years, Joy had taught herself to cook by trial and error, but she didn’t come close to Maris’s skill in the kitchen. From full-blown formal dinners to the soup of the day, Maris worked magic.

  Less than a minute later, Maris returned with a plateful of warm chocolate chip cookies. “Fresh from the oven. Want one?”

  “I wish I could, but if I don’t get going, I’ll be late.” Joy prided herself on her professionalism. Showing up tardy for an appointment was unthinkable.

  “We stay too damn busy, don’t we? We should carve out more time to visit.” Maris wrapped two in a napkin. “For the road, then.”

  Joy’s mouth already watered. “They won’t last five minutes. Thank you.” Smiling, she stood and slipped her purse strap over her shoulder. Hesitating, she said, “This was nice. Us talking more, I mean.”

  “Right?” Moving the cookies under a covered dome, Maris remarked, “We need to do it more often.”

  Surprised by the idea, Joy nodded. “That would be terrific.”

  She loved her role of recreation director at the park, and she appreciated all the wonderful people. She thought she did a good job—and yet, she’d never truly fit in. This morning, for a few minutes, Maris had been much more like a friend than an acquaintance. She didn’t know if it was seeing the other couple with the three kids, or because Maris was suddenly more aware of her age.

  Whatever the reason, Joy liked it. She liked it a lot.

  * * *

  Twenty minutes later, cold and miserable, Joy peeked in the small door window of the concession stand at the drive-in.

  How had things changed so quickly?

  The meager overhang barely shielded her from the pounding rain of the pop-up storm. Not that it mattered since she was already soaked to the skin.

  If you could see me now, Maris...

  There wasn’t anything fashionable about her drowned-rat appearance. Joy couldn’t remember a time when she’d been more of a wreck.

  Freak rainstorms could do that to people.

  Instead of knocking, she peeked inside again. People didn’t usually catch her off guard like this, but for once, she felt totally flummoxed.

  Royce Nakirk was everything Maris said he’d be—and more.

  He stood over six feet tall, his body very...fit, and his dark hair reflected the blue of the concession lights.

  Didn’t matter. Men, attractive men in their prime, held no significance to her.

  She was a mother.

  A dedicated employee.

  A once-burned, never-again divorcée.

  My, oh my, the gossips hadn’t exaggerated.

  Joy wanted elderly Mr. Ostenbery back. She could deal with him. She could charm and bargain and coerce him without noticing his thighs. Or his shoulders.

  Or his...butt.

  All she’d ever noticed on Ostenbery was the impressive size of his nose and his genuine smile and kindness.

  But this new owner was a different animal. Denim companies should pay him to wear their jeans. The way his T-shirt fit his body—snug in the shoulders, loose over a flat midsection—caused her ovaries to twitch. Until this moment, she’d forgotten she had ovaries.

  Mother.

  Employee.

  Divorcée.

  The mantra marched through her brain without much effect. She wondered what Maris would say when she told her about this.

  Would she tell her?

  Yes. It might be fun to share her shock. No doubt Maris would have some witty comment to contribute.

  With his back to her, the owner squatted to rinse a cloth in a bucket of soapy water.

  Biting her lip, Joy let her gaze track over him.

  Stop it, she silently demanded, and she wasn’t sure if she spoke to herself or the new, much too young and attractive owner.

  When he turned, she saw his intent concentration as he scrubbed at a corner of the counter.

  Joy almost envied the counter. How long had it been since she’d garnered that much concentration from anyone? Five years? Closer to six?

  Scowling, he glanced at the clock, a jolting reminder that she was already fifteen minutes late.

  Joy shoved wet hair away from her face and straightened her sodden clothes. No chance now for a good first impression. If the day hadn’t dawned with sunshine and clear skies, she wouldn’t have left her umbrella behind. The weather had held long enough for her to almost arrive at the drive-in—and then the black clouds had rolled in, tumbling one over the other as if racing for a finish line. A deluge split the skies, flooding a crossroad so she’d had to drive around, making her late.

  The irony, of course, was that she could have walked through the woods and arrived at the drive-in within five minutes. Driving meant going around the long way, but she’d considered walking too informal. Her skirt and cute flats, which Maris had admired earlier, wouldn’t have survived the woods. />
  Now it didn’t matter, since the look was ruined, anyway.

  Before she made things worse, Joy stepped to the side of the little window and gave a brisk knock.

  It opened exactly two heartbeats later, making her think Mr. Nakirk must have reached it in one long stride.

  Dark eyes went over her in a nanosecond and his frown deepened. He rubbed his mouth—then his gaze pinned her. “Joy Lee?”

  Rain blew against her back but she barely felt it as she tried to summon professional confidence. If looking at him through a window had been disturbing, it was nothing compared to seeing him face-to-face.

  He waited.

  “Yes.” Fashioning her frozen lips into a smile, she lifted her chin. “I’m sorry I’m late.” Good. That sounded formal and sincere. She cleared her throat. “A road was closed and I had to take a detour.” Pretty sure her lips were still smiling, but she turned it up a bit, anyway.

  He looked at her mouth and nodded. “Come in.” Belatedly, he stepped back, making room for her. “Wait on the mat. The floor can be slippery when wet. I’ll get you a towel.”

  “Thank you.” So he wouldn’t belabor her tardiness? She appreciated his restraint.

  After watching him disappear into a room behind the concession stand, Joy glanced around the interior. She couldn’t help noticing that the counter was spotless. The glass fronts of the candy cases sparkled, and even the black-and-white tiled floor shone. Admiring the fresh new appearance, she looked up...and found the same old stained ceiling tiles there.

  “Next on the list,” he said as he walked back in, startling her. He had an orange striped beach towel in one hand, a utility towel in the other. He stepped into her spreading puddle.

  This close, he was taller than she’d realized. At five-nine, few men made her feel small but she had to tip her head back to meet Royce’s inscrutable gaze. And...her thoughts fled once again. “Pardon?”

  His mouth twitched. “I haven’t heard that expression since my grandmother passed a decade ago.”

  Ohhh, he mentioned his grandmother. How sweet was that?

  No, wait. Joy prided herself on her professionalism, on making a good appearance.

  She did not lose her poise over a man’s butt or his mention of a grandmother.

  But his eyes...they were incredibly dark, framed by short, dense, ebony lashes. In a less welcoming face, she’d have labeled his eyes sinister, but the only thing deadly about this man was his bold appeal.

  “Pardon,” he said, as if explaining. “It’s something Nana used to say. Most people aren’t that polite anymore.”

  He called his grandmother Nana—and why would that make him more appealing?

  Joy cleared her throat. “I see.” Ah, yes, way to bowl him over with scintillating conversation.

  He pointed up. “I meant the ceiling. I’ll be replacing the tiles when I can, probably sometime over the winter so it’s done before the next season.” He held the beach towel out to her.

  Making sure not to touch him, she accepted it, and noticed that his hands were large, his wrists thick, his forearms sprinkled with dark hair.

  What is wrong with you? So the man has hands. Most men do. It was no reason for her temperature to spike.

  She could probably blame her new distraction on Maris. If she hadn’t steered the conversation toward hooking up, maybe Joy wouldn’t be thinking about it now.

  While she patted at her face, trying to look delicate instead of desperate, he dropped the utility towel into the puddle and moved it around with his foot.

  Rain continued to drip from her hair, her clothes, even the tip of her nose. Her brain scrambled for conversation, a way to ease the awkward moment.

  His nearness made that impossible.

  “Well.” Joy plucked at her clinging sweater. Maybe if she didn’t look at him, it’d be easier for her brain to function. “I hope you’ve been properly welcomed to Woodbine.”

  “I’ve only met a few people.”

  Enough to make an impact, she thought.

  “Mostly I’ve been stuck in here all week, trying to get it spick-and-span before movie night on Friday.”

  “Mr. Ostenbery was a wonderful person, but not a stickler for organization.”

  “Or cleanliness,” he said with a smile.

  For a second, Joy stared, caught in that smile, before regaining her wits. “You’ve done a great job. Everything shines.”

  The drive-in ran on Friday and Saturday nights, from March until the end of October, but Mr. Ostenbery had often hosted other events during off-hours. Joy hoped to continue that practice, and maybe even add to it.

  Suddenly Royce flagged a hand toward her face. “You’re washing away. Did you want to use the restroom? I can put on coffee while you do that.”

  She looked at the towel where she’d patted her face and saw it smudged with makeup. Oh good Lord. Cold and embarrassment nearly took out her knees. “Yes, if you don’t mind.”

  “In fact—” He ducked back behind the counter, snagged a folded T-shirt from a stack, and offered it to her. “You look...chilled.”

  Apparently being faced with a sodden woman in ruined makeup didn’t faze him. She accepted the navy blue shirt with the drive-in’s logo on the front. “You want me to change?”

  “I want you to be comfortable. Doesn’t seem possible while you’re shivering.” He pushed aside the half door that allowed her behind the concession stand. “This way.”

  As they walked, Joy gave herself a pep talk. Never mind that she hadn’t had sex for nearly six years. Forget that he was a specimen with a capital S, for Sexy. Disregard that she was sometimes lonely.

  She would cease daydreaming about his jeans, and that fine backside in his jeans, and she wouldn’t notice anything else about his body. Or his face. Or even that deep voice.

  She would concentrate only on the purpose of this meeting.

  “Right here,” he said, pushing open yet another door to show her the most sanitary business restroom she had ever seen. The white porcelain toilet and sink shone, as did the floor and wall tiles. “There’s a dryer around the corner if you need it. For your skirt, I mean.”

  That surprised her enough that she almost slipped on her own trail of water. “You have a dryer here?”

  “I brought in a small stack unit for convenience. The mop head and cleaning towels get laundered regularly.”

  The positives were adding up. Joy mentally tallied them: butt. Nana. Neat freak.

  Oh, and those sinfully dark eyes.

  Poise, she reminded herself. Professionalism. “I’ll only be a minute.”

  Accepting that, he turned away. “I’ll go get the coffee started.”

  And... She watched him walk away, already forgetting her lecture.

  When he glanced back to say, “Take your time,” she knew that he knew she’d been staring.

  Mortified, Joy quickly closed the door, muttering to herself about decorum. One glance in the mirror and her heart almost gave out.

  Her pathetic attempts at smiling couldn’t have had any impact at all, not when mascara created comical black stripes down her cheeks. Add her long, light brown hair plastered to her skull, throat and chest, and she was hideous.

  The worst, though, was her sweater.

  Opaque, yes, but through the soft material her chilled nipples seemed to beg for attention. Look at me, look at me.

  She couldn’t really blame them, not with a man like that standing around as if such a thing happened every day. She’d certainly never seen anyone like him before. Even in a Photoshopped magazine ad, the men weren’t so...perfectly manly.

  It was indecent.

  Her nipples were indecent.

  Her standing in front of a mirror carrying on a private, one-sided discussion about her nipples was indecent.

  In an atte
mpt to recover, her lungs grabbed a deep breath. Being a good mother is your number one focus. Period. You don’t care about attracting men.

  No, she didn’t. So what did it matter if she looked like a murdered body washed up on the shore? It didn’t.

  As of right now, her hormones were going back in hibernation.

  And yet, she frantically scrubbed her face and fretted over her hair.

  * * *

  Royce poured himself a cup of coffee and tried to quit glancing at the clock. What was she doing in there?

  Changing her shirt and removing the tracks from her face shouldn’t have taken twenty minutes. He rubbed the back of his neck and tried not to think about her tall, trim body in wet clothes, but yeah, he may as well tell himself to stop breathing. Pretty sure that image would stick with him for a while.

  Funny thing, how a woman nearly drowned in rain and ruined makeup could still look so classy. She had a calm deportment that defied circumstances.

  Gifting her with the shirt had been an act of self-preservation, to make it easier for him to refocus on the important stuff.

  Not that breasts weren’t important. They just weren’t important right now.

  For several reasons, this meeting had to be his priority. One, he’d just taken over the run-down drive-in and, for some ridiculous reason, he wanted to hear her opinion on his improvements. Two, he needed to first be accepted to the small, intimate town. Working with her would be a start. Three...damn, he’d forgotten three the second he’d opened that door.

  He couldn’t tell the true color of her hair, not with the wet hanks clinging to her face, but there was no mistaking the green of her eyes. Not just green, but a light green with shades of amber, all ringed in blue.

  Pretty eyes. Startled eyes. Joy Lee had stared at him as if he’d somehow surprised her.

  She’d sure as hell surprised him.

  From everything Ostenbery had told him, he’d expected a polite but formal businesswoman. Maybe she was...usually.

  But not today.

  Not with the way she’d looked at him.

  Damned if he hadn’t looked back.

  A foolish move since he had zip for free time. Only a month remained of the season for the drive-in, but he planned to make the most of it, to send it off with a bang so that when he reopened in the spring, the locals would remember. Plus he had some ideas for off-season activities, if he could get Joy Lee on board.