by Cathie Linz
As it turned out, Connor was the one who left first, which aggravated her. She wished she could be the first one to walk away for a change.
* * *
“Nice hat, Dad,” Marissa said. She’d finally found the booth where he was holding ancient Egyptian court.
“Thanks.” He touched the brim. “I got it online.”
“At IndianaJones.com?”
“Something like that.”
“Mom’s not happy that you’re not going to see the pageant,” Marissa said.
“Are you going?”
Marissa shook her head.
“Then she’s not happy with you either,” her dad said.
“I guess that’s something you and I have in common,” she said.
He just shrugged.
“It would mean a lot to her if you’d go,” Marissa said.
“I’ve gone to that silly pageant for a quarter of a century. Just once, I want to do what I want to do.”
Marissa pointed to the pyramid-shaped banner on the booth. “I didn’t even know there was such a thing as a ‘Pharaoh’s Pals’ group.”
“This is our first year at the festival. I’m not real fond of the name of our group. It needs some tweaking yet.”
“How are you tying the pharaohs in with rhubarb?”
“They’re as old as rhubarb,” he said. “The culinary use of rhubarb is relatively new, as you no doubt know. That dates back to the eighteen hundreds. But the earliest medicinal use was about five thousand years ago in China. The pharaohs go back five thousand yeas as well. Granted, they didn’t use rhubarb, but both rhubarb and the pharaohs share five thousand years of history. I know it’s not the same history, but five thousand years is nothing to sneeze at.”
“What about the history that you and Mom share?”
“The quarter century of going to that pageant with her? I’ve earned a year off. Why don’t you go?”
“I’m working at the library booth,” Marissa said.
“And I’m working here.”
Marissa could tell that no amount of arguing was going to change her father’s mind. And to think the day had started out so serenely. Earlier this morning, she’d walked to Centennial Park, cutting through Hopeful’s Historic District with its Victorian homes and lush gardens. In May, the phlox had been out but currently the old-fashioned roses—the kind that smelled divine—were in full bloom. She’d actually paused to smell the roses.
And now here she was, at an impasse with both her parents.
She ran into Connor on her way back to the library’s booth.
“No luck with your dad?” he said.
She shook her head. “He’s very stubborn,”
“Parents are like that sometimes.”
“Yes, but at least yours don’t live here.”
“True. And don’t think I’m not thankful for that fact.”
Marissa sighed. “After being gone all those years, I’m not used to being drawn into all their arguments and having them know everything I’m doing.”
“At least your parents aren’t trying to act as matchmakers.”
“My mom is. My dad doesn’t care.”
“Count your blessings,” Connor said. “When there are two of them, they double-team you.”
“I guess.”
“Here, this will cheer you up.”
For the first time she noticed the small cardboard box in his hands. “What is it?”
“Rhubarb.” He held up a bite-sized piece of stalk and dipped it into the tiny container in the corner of the box. “With honey. Hurry up and open wide.”
She opened her mouth to say no but he’d already put the rhubarb in her mouth.
The combination of tart and sweet was unexpectedly good. She hadn’t had this snack since she’d left Hopeful.
“Good, huh?” He leaned closer. “You’ve got some honey on your mouth.”
He brushed his thumb over her bottom lip and then lifted it to his own mouth to suck the stickiness off.
Her earlier stripper fantasy about Connor returned with a vengeance. Him, naked, pouring honey over her nude body and then sucking it off. She felt her nipples tightening beneath her pale blue top.
Thank goodness the ruffles hid that fact from him. She looked down to make sure that was the case then nervously tucked a strand of her hair behind her hair, which set her moonstone dangle earrings moving.
“I like these.” He reached out and gently set the piece of jewelry in motion again. “What is this?”
“Moonstone. Legend is that it brings emotional balance.”
“Oh yeah? How’s that working for you?”
“Not as well as I’d hoped,” she muttered. Her hormones were running wild and screaming like banshees. Sex. I want SEX. NOW.
“I’ve got to get back to the library booth.” She really meant she had to get away from him before she did something stupid.
“I’ll come with you.”
“No, don’t.”
“Okay.” Again he was the one who turned and walked away, dammit. She was supposed to do that, not stand here with a container full of rhubarb and honey and a body zooming with unfulfilled sexual needs.
“I’m in trouble,” Marissa told Deb a few hours later. The two of them had found a spot away from the crowd with some privacy to go with their slices of strawberry-rhubarb pie. Marissa was on break from her library booth duties.
“What’s wrong?” Deb said with a concerned look on her face.
“Swear you won’t tell a soul.”
“I swear. What’s going on? Is it your ex?”
“No.”
“Does it have something to do with that matchmaking situation you talked about the last time we were together?”
“Yes. Connor kissed me,” Marissa awkwardly blurted out.
“The sheriff?”
Marissa nodded.
“Wow,” Deb said.
“Yeah. Double wow.”
“By which I take it that you enjoyed the kiss?”
“He’s a great kisser.” Marissa almost added that he’d always been a great kisser but stopped herself. She wasn’t ready yet to confess her earlier relationship with Connor as her first lover.
“So what’s the problem?” Deb asked.
“I shouldn’t be having these feelings.”
“What feelings?”
“The more time I spend with him, the more he tempts me,” Marissa said, nervously fingering her dangle earrings.
“I see you’re wearing moonstones. I like reading about gem lore. Legend has it that its supposed powers include reuniting lovers who have quarreled.”
“I don’t want to be reunited with my ex,” Marissa said.
“Are you sure about that?”
Marissa nodded. “Moonstone is also supposed to bring emotional balance.” She gently flicked her earrings. “It’s not working.”
“Wait, let’s get back to Connor kissing you. When did this happen?”
“The other night. And no, it didn’t get more serious than that.” Well, it kind of had, given the fact that he’d undone her robe and cupped her naked breasts, but Marissa figured there was no need to go into details like that. They just got her all hot and bothered again.
“Are you falling for him?” Deb sounded concerned but not half as concerned as Marissa was.
“No. Absolutely not. It’s just lust, not an emotional thing. Listen, to say that I’m gun-shy after my sham of a marriage is an understatement.”
“Yet you and Connor shared a kiss.”
“It was just lust,” Marissa insisted.
“Do you want to kiss him again?”
“Yes, and that’s a problem.”
“If it’s only lust, then maybe you should…you know…get it out of your system by sleeping with him.”
Marissa already knew that having sex with Connor was not the cure for getting him out of her system. In fact, it just made her want him even more. That had been true a decade ago and she had the feeling it was
just as true today.
* * *
“How’s it going?” Connor asked the teens gathered at the library’s booth.
Nadine looked up from her smartphone. “No one said I couldn’t tweet from the booth,” Nadine said, clearly still miffed about the tweet issue.
“That’s not why I’m here,” Connor said.
“If you’re looking for Marissa, she’s not here,” Jose said.
“I’m not looking for her.” Hell. He was but he wasn’t admitting that.
Jose just looked at him as if he knew Connor was lying but he didn’t confront him about it.
Too bad. Connor was itching for a fight. He got one from an unexpected source—the library board president.
“We need to talk,” Chester Flint said, pulling him aside.
Connor shoved his sunglasses up onto his head in order to glare at the older man. He didn’t appreciate being hauled around like a hogtied farm animal, and his look informed Chester of that fact.
“There’s a problem,” the older man said.
Connor’s look said that the problem was Chester.
“This is turning into a big mess.”
Connor nodded his agreement.
“I should have held my ground. A poetry jam was a stupid idea. But I didn’t protest. I could have. I’m also president of the Rhubarb Festival planning committee as well as the library board. I should have said no. But I went along with it. And now we’ve got a problem,” Chester said.
“What problem?”
“Those delinquents in the library booth. It’s totally inappropriate to have them there.”
“And why’s that?” Connor’s voice was laid-back but his expression was anything but.
“Because the one with the tattoo entered the poetry
jam.”
“You mean Jose?”
Chester shrugged. “I don’t pay attention to their names.”
“You should.”
“You’re right. I should pay attention so I can tell you all the things he’s done wrong. And not just him. They’re in it together. They are all a pack of trouble.”
“How do you figure that?”
“Can’t you see?” Chester’s face was becoming increasingly flushed with anger. “They deliberately came up with this plan to discredit the entire festival.”
“What plan?”
“To enter the poetry jam.”
“There’s no law against that.”
“That kid with the tattoos…Jose. He won.” Chester’s voice reflected his outrage.
“There’s no law against that either.”
“There should be. You should have heard him.”
“I wish I had,” Connor said.
“I wish you had, too. Then you’d know why I’m so upset.”
“You could just get to the point and tell me why you’re so upset.”
“His poem didn’t even rhyme. Not only did he take the Lord’s name in vain, but he was also disrespectful about the American flag and our country. Plus, he actually compared a rhubarb’s stem to a part of the male anatomy.”
“I’m not the poetry police,” Connor said.
“But you are involved with this teen program. By having him in the library booth, you’re sending the wrong kind of message to our community.”
“And what message would that be?”
“That bad behavior is rewarded,” Chester said.
“They haven’t done anything bad.”
“They have in my book. Maybe not yours. Not yet. But they will, you just wait and see.” Chester made the dire prediction with utter certainty and then marched away.
Connor returned to the library booth to find Jose looking ready to do battle, as he often was. The arms-crossed-feet-planted-apart-tough-guy look was familiar to Connor, who’d used the same body language himself as had dozens of kids he’d dealt with back in Chicago.
“I guess the old guy wasn’t happy about me winning that poetry jam instead of his granddaughter,” the teen said.
“Jose deserved to win,” Red Fred said.
“And you deserved to come in second and not third,” Jose told his friend.
“That’s right.” Nadine turned her smartphone for them to see the screen. “I just tweeted that you were robbed.”
Their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of Flo, who grabbed Connor’s arm. “I just heard there was a robbery at the festival. I saw it on Twitter.” She looked around nervously. “You don’t think it was the Rhubarb Flasher, do you? You’re sure he hasn’t broken out of prison?”
“Why would a flasher want to steal an award?” Red Fred said.
“An award was stolen?” The news didn’t calm Flo down too much. “Was it for biggest rhubarb leaf? Longest stem? Fattest stem?”
Before Connor could answer, Connor’s landlady, Sally, joined Flo. “Did you hear about the kid who used the p word in the poetry jam?” She paused the moment she saw Jose. “Oh. You’re the one.”
Jose nodded.
“The p word?” Flo was confused. “You mean pie?”
“She means penis,” Jose said proudly.
“Wait.” Flo was confused. “We don’t have a penis contest at this festival.”
“He compared a rhubarb’s stem to uh…” Sally tilted her head.
“Well, he’s hardly the first one to do that,” Flo said.
“Maybe not, but he’s the first one to do it onstage.”
“Do what onstage? You didn’t drop your pants, did you?” Flo fixed Jose with the same icy glare of disapproval that Connor had seen her give anyone at the post office who tried to jump the line of waiting customers.
“No way,” Jose said.
“I know your grandma,” Flo reminded him.
He looked down. “I know,” he muttered.
“His grandma will be proud,” Nadine said. “Jose won first prize in the poetry jam.”
“And then someone stole your award?” Clearly outraged, Flo turned to Connor. “Sheriff, what are you going to do about this?”
Connor didn’t have a clue. He wished Marissa would show up so she could take over this circus and he could walk away. He knew she’d say he was good at walking away, and that might be true.
“Jose’s award wasn’t stolen,” Connor said.
Flo frowned. “But I saw it on Twitter.”
“Not everything you see on the Internet is true,” Connor said,
“I know that. But Twitter is different.”
“I’m the one who posted the tweet,” Nadine said. “And I was referring to the fact that Red Fred should have won second place in the poetry jam instead of third.”
“That’s okay,” Red Fred said. “Before he took off, my dad used to tell me that second place is another word for loser.”
“No offense, but your daddy was full of horse manure,” Flo said, her Appalachian heritage evident for the first time in her accent.
They all fell silent for a moment, as if collectively agreeing to her comment. The momentary lull was interrupted by Marissa’s return.
“Did I miss anything?” Marissa said.
“Nah,” Jose said. “It’s all good.”
But Connor wasn’t sure his powerful attraction to Marissa was a good thing. Not a good thing at all. It had him feeling all messed up and out of control which raised a major red flag because as a cop he prided himself on being in control.
He’d lost it once back in Chicago and he wasn’t about to let history repeat itself here in Hopeful even if this was a different scenario. So Connor did what he did best in emotional situations like this. He simply walked away.
Chapter Thirteen
“I want to thank you all for coming to our support group meeting tonight,” Flo said.
Marissa couldn’t be sure, but it seemed to her that Flo was directing that comment directly at her. Had she somehow guessed that Marissa had been tempted to walk into the “Cooking for One” meeting in the neighboring room instead of coming tonight?
Mar
issa nervously fingered her silver-and-moonstone dragonfly dangle earrings as she took a seat. There was no sign of Deb, who had promised she’d be attending tonight and who had convinced her that she should give the group another try.
“Tonight we’re going to be talking about dating after divorce,” Flo said.
Marissa gulped. Had Deb told them about their conversation? Marissa had trusted her.
“Breathe,” Deb whispered as she slipped into the chair next to her. “Don’t panic. I didn’t say a word.”
“I’m bringing this up because I got invited out on a date,” Flo said.
The other attendees all started murmuring.
Deb had filled her in regarding most of the members of the group, letting her know that the woman Marissa had labeled as someone who looked like they should be on that Real Housewives of Atlanta TV show was actually named Brenda.
“Who’s the lucky man?” Brenda asked.
“It’s Digger Diehl, the plumber,” Flo said.
“Maybe you’ll get a discount on any future repairs,” Brenda said.
“I rent an apartment,” Flo reminded her. “The landlord pays for the repairs.”
Brenda frowned in confusion. “Then why are you going out with a plumber?”
“Plumbers make good money,” Flo said.
“No one makes good money in this economy,” Brenda said.
“Wall Street brokers do.”
“Well, we don’t have any of those here in Hopeful so I’m going out with Digger. Besides, I like him.” Flo smiled at them all. “So I thought we could all share our dating experiences. How long did you wait after your divorce before you went out with someone else?”
“The instant the ink was dry on the divorce papers,” Brenda said. “I had guys lined up.”
“Let’s go around the room,” Flo suggested. “We’ll start with you, Marissa.”
“Me?” She looked around at their eager faces. “Why me?”
“Because you were seen being hand-fed by our sexy sheriff at the Rhubarb Festival the other day,” Flo said. “Are you two dating?”
“No.” She shook her head so vehemently she got a little dizzy. She was actually miffed that Connor had walked away from her yet again when she’d returned from her break to the library booth. He hadn’t said a word of greeting or farewell. He’d just taken off.