by MJ Duncan
Bryn shook her head. “Thank you, but I really should stay at Spectrum and make sure the verasion process begins properly. It’s a big year, I’m counting on the vines in the northeast quadrant to produce some especially robust grapes, and the canopy has to be maintained just-so for that to happen.”
“You do realize that that’s why you pay Gerald an ungodly amount of money to tend to the vineyard, right?”
“I do. But I just…”
“Want to be there. I get it,” Kendall said understandingly. “So, what are you going to do for the holiday, then? Please tell me that you’re going to do something other than sit at home by yourself.”
Bryn shot Kendall a playful scowl and then shrugged. “I’ll probably go into town for a bit. There’s always a nice little carnival after the parade with games and stuff for the kids, and booths for the local artisans. I got a wonderful painting there last year, and I’m hoping to pick up another one for the tasting room. There’s a space to the left of the bar that needs a little something.” She pulled open the door to the deli and waved Kendall through.
The deli was crowded with lawyers fueling up for a busy day in court, reviewing their notes and speaking in hushed whispers into their phones, but they did not have to wait but a moment before they were led to a small table near a window.
“Do you have someone else you can take to the cabin with you?” Bryn asked once they were seated.
“Oh, I’m sure I’ll find somebody.” Kendall smiled and picked up her menu. “I was actually thinking of asking Jen if you couldn’t go.”
Bryn arched a brow in surprise. It had been almost a year since she had heard Kendall mention her ex-girlfriend. “Jen? What happened to Michael?”
“Eh—” Kendall waved a dismissive hand in the air as she looked over her menu, “—he’s still around, I guess. We haven’t seen each other in a month because he’s been in DC for work, and I ran into Jen the other night in front of the bar by my loft and we just…yeah.”
Bryn arched a brow in surprise. “Really?”
Kendall laughed and nodded. “I don’t know what it is, but there’s something about that girl that I just can’t resist. Besides, things with Michael were never serious. I actually enjoy not having him around a whole lot, to be honest, because, while he’s easy on the eyes and good in bed, he’s a bit too dim for intelligent conversation.”
“He’s a federal prosecutor.”
“Trust me, that doesn’t mean anything.”
Bryn chuckled. “So, Jen…”
Kendall grinned. “Jen.”
“How’s she doing?”
“She’s good. Really, really good.”
Bryn shook her head. “You’re incorrigible.”
“You know it.” Kendall looked up as their waiter stopped beside their table. “Denver omelet, wheat toast, coffee.”
“I’ll have the same,” Bryn said as she handed him her menu.
Once the waiter left, Kendall folded her arms on the table and leaned forward. “You sure you don’t want to come? I don’t have to ask Jen…”
“No, take her. It’s fine.”
“You’re sure?” Kendall pressed. “If you want, you can bring your new buddy Anna with you.”
“Ha, ha,” Bryn drawled. “Spending any additional time with Ms. Fitzpatrick is the absolute last thing on my priority list at the moment.”
“Aww, but we could double!” Kendall teased, waggling her eyebrows.
Bryn rolled her eyes, unable to keep an amused smile from quirking her lips. This right here, this was why she had driven to Portland—nobody knew how to make her laugh like Kendall did. “I don’t know why I put up with you. Seriously, when have I ever shown interest in dating a woman?”
Kendall grinned. “Just because it hasn’t happened yet…”
“You’re ridiculous.” Bryn chuckled. “No wonder my mother detests you.”
“Hey, that’s a compliment,” Kendall pointed out. “Besides, name one person your mother actually does like.”
“My father.” Bryn sighed and looked out the window. She wished she could add her own name to the list, but she had long since given up believing that her mother genuinely cared for her.
“Sorry,” Kendall apologized.
“Yeah, me too.” Bryn smiled sadly. “Anyway…”
“Fourth of July.”
Bryn nodded. “Yes. Take Jen to the cabin. She’s good for you.”
“You think?”
“I do. I’ve always like her.”
“Me too.” Kendall groaned and ran a hand through her hair. “God, I can’t wait to cut this all off.”
“So you’re really going to do it?”
“I am. Saturday morning, eight a.m. sharp.”
Bryn smiled and leaned back in her chair as their waiter approached with their food. “Send me a picture when it’s done.”
Kendall snapped off a playful salute as their plates were set in front of them. “Yes, ma’am. So,” she said as she picked up her fork, “tell me more about how the repairs are coming. Has the insurance company sent an adjustor out?”
“They did. She said that I should have a check in less than two weeks.” Bryn picked up her fork and used the edge to cut into her omelet. She glanced at her watch and sighed. This distraction was nice while it lasted, but Kendall needed to be in court in forty minutes and she would be back on her way to Wellington.
“You okay?”
Bryn nodded and picked up a triangle of toast. Her life was a mess, but the two most important parts—Kendall and Spectrum—were still there for her. Nothing else mattered. “I am.”
Seven
The repairs at Spectrum had been completed in the two weeks that had passed since Bryn’s trip to Portland, leaving her free to enjoy the hectic holiday celebration that surrounded her as she wandered through downtown Wellington. The buildings on either side of the cordoned-off section of Main Street were bedecked with red, white, and blue flags, banners, and streamers that had, no doubt, served as the perfect backdrop for the parade that marched through hours before.
Kendall had called her earlier that morning just to check-in and wish her a happy Fourth, something she did every year they were not spending the holiday together because she knew that Bryn’s parents would not. Kendall told her about a raccoon they had seen sunning itself on the patio when they woke up that she claimed had been so big that it could have picked Bryn up and carried her off into the woods—a story Jen had loudly declared to be “complete bullshit” before she took the phone from Kendall to say hello to Bryn herself. They only talked for maybe half an hour, but it was nice to be reminded that she was important enough to somebody to warrant that small contact.
Bryn pulled off a piece of funnel cake and popped it into her mouth as she stepped out of the way of a little girl who was shouting about ice cream while running excitedly toward the vendor. The girl’s parents were chasing after her with matching looks of exasperated amusement on their faces, and Bryn smiled as she watched the dad scoop the girl up into his arms and kiss her cheek as her mother admonished her for running off. It was a perfect family moment, one that she was sure they all took for granted, and she shook her head as she turned away from the happy sight before she could begin to dwell on the fact that she had never experienced anything like it.
The happy squeals of children enjoying themselves pierced the dull hum of activity that filled the air, and Bryn was content to just amble amongst the chaos and take it all in. She knew that in a few hours’ time the crowds and the noise would become too much and that she would be all but forced to retreat to the blissful quietude of her vineyard, but for now it was nice to float along with the ebb and flow of the crowd, letting the energy and excitement carry her from one booth to the next down the street.
A large crowd up ahead drew her attention with catcalls and laughter, and she wandered toward it, licking powdered sugar from her fingers as she went. Her mother would have a conniption—albeit a frighteningly contained on
e—if she saw her behaving so improperly, and Bryn smirked at the thought as she sucked her thumb clean.
She stopped at the back of the group, curious to see what had drawn its attention before she continued down the street to the small parking lot where she knew the local artisans would have their booths. She had to stand on her tiptoes to peek through the wall of bodies in front of her, but it was worth the effort when she realized what, exactly, she was looking at.
Anna Fitzpatrick was sitting on the small wooden seat above a dunk tank, wearing a soaking wet pair of running shorts and a white T-shirt emblazoned with the logo for Wellington Memorial Hospital that was now completely see-through. The black bikini top she wore under the shirt was little more than two triangles connected by a string, which the crowd around Bryn seemed to especially appreciate. A sign taped to the front of the contraption with red, white, and blue star-spangled duct tape advertised that it cost one dollar per throw to attempt to knock the shivering brunette back into the water, and that the proceeds were to go to the children’s wing at the hospital.
The idea of taking some small measure of revenge against Anna Fitzpatrick was appealing enough in and of itself, but with the money raised being dedicated to helping kids in need, it was impossible for her to pass up the opportunity to take her turn at the line. Perhaps it was because her childhood, while privileged, had been one of consistent benign neglect, having been sent from one boarding school to the next and sleep-away camp in the summers, but she had always had a soft spot for children’s charities. No child should feel as alone as she had growing up, and she imagined a hospital room, with its bright lights and beeping machines, must be a particularly lonely place for a kid to be.
She finished what was left of her funnel cake as she watched a couple of college-aged guys take their turn, each of whom missed the target by a mile because he was too busy ogling Anna to take proper aim. She used a napkin to clean off her fingers as another testosterone-fueled challenger made his way up to the line, and pulled a twenty from her wallet as she used her small size to her advantage to duck through the crowd. Once she reached the front, she held the money out to a smiling man in a garish Hawaiian shirt who was manning the cash box.
He eyed her over the rim of his sunglasses when she handed him the twenty. “How much do you want back?”
Bryn smiled and shook her head. Even if she did not take all twenty throws, she was certain that the pediatric wing at the hospital needed the money much more than she did. “None.”
He chuckled as he set the money in the silver cash box and snapped it shut. “You a friend of Fitz’s?”
“Not exactly,” Bryn murmured as she watched the man in front of her miss the target by a good six inches. Apparently, Anna’s legs and see-through shirt provided enough distraction to keep her sitting safely above the water.
A look of unfettered relief flashed across Anna’s face as the man and his buddies turned to leave, and Bryn wondered if it was because she had not been dunked, or because his lecherous gaze was no longer focused on her. A feeling of protectiveness surged through Bryn at the thought, and the realization that she was more than a little tempted to give the guys in front of her a piece of her mind gave her pause. She did not care about Anna Fitzpatrick, but seeing her subjected to such treatment made Bryn’s hackles rise. Probably more than it should, judging by the way she had to bite her tongue to keep from saying something to the men as they pushed past her.
Her solicitous feelings, however, did not stop her from taking the three balls held out to her by the man in the loud shirt before she stepped up to the line. Anna’s face when she recognized her was pure surprise, and Bryn smiled as she carefully set her purse on the ground beside her, mindful to not put it in the stream of water that was snaking its way beneath the crowd’s feet. “Hello again, Ms. Fitzpatrick.”
Anna’s expression shifted from surprise to thoughtful contemplation as they stared at each other. “Since I’m technically working right now, it’s Doctor Fitzpatrick. And, do you really think you can hit that target?”
Bryn felt her eyebrows lift above the frame of her sunglasses in surprise. She had never given much thought to what Anna did for a living—she knew from their short conversation the other morning that Anna was not regularly employed at the coffee shop—but she had assumed that whatever Anna did, it was something much less prestigious than being a doctor.
Like telemarketing.
Or door-to-door vacuum sales.
Nevertheless, she pasted a playful smirk on her face and tilted her head in a small, concessionary bow. “As you wish, Doctor Fitzpatrick. And, I believe I will be able to hit the target at least once. I paid for twenty throws, after all.”
“Twenty?” Anna shot a look at the man with the cash box. “Seriously?”
“Indeed.” Bryn tossed the ball in her hand up and down a few times for show. “We’ll call it twenty drops in the reparations bucket.” She tilted her head inquiringly. “Are you ready to begin, Doctor?”
Anna’s answering smile was a little shaky, but there was no mistaking the look of defiance that flashed in her eyes. Bryn smiled. She might not necessarily like Anna—the accident was still too fresh in her mind for that—but she admired her spunk.
“Give it your best shot, Nakamura,” Anna taunted as she made a show of making herself comfortable on her perch.
Bryn tapped the ball in her left hand against the two in her right, and turned so that her right hip was pointed at the target. She licked her lips as she lifted her left arm behind her, her elbow in perfect alignment with her shoulder, and eyed the target, completely oblivious to the way Anna’s eyes tracked her every move. Somebody behind her coughed just as she was about the let the ball go, and she swore under her breath as she watched the throw miss high. “Damn.”
The sound of Anna’s sing-song taunt, “Too bad, so sad!” made Bryn even more determined to see her pretty face dripping with water.
“Just warming up, Doctor,” Bryn assured her, the lightness in her tone from moments before replaced with enough steel to convey that she was done playing around.
Bryn pursed her lips in thoughtful concentration as she studied the target, her brows scrunching together as she prepared for her second throw. She had fully-expected to dunk Anna with her first toss. If there was one thing Bryn Nakamura did not do, it was fail, and she took a deep breath to steady her nerves.
“The object of the game is to hit the target,” Anna offered just before Bryn wound up.
“I am aware of that,” Bryn shot back, the dramatic roll of her eyes hidden by her sunglasses.
Anna smirked. “Just making sure.”
“I appreciate your concern, but it is neither desired nor necessary,” Bryn retorted as she cocked her arm and let the ball in her hand fly.
The throw missed by a hair to the left. Bryn clenched her jaw and reset her feet for her third toss. She did not even look up at Anna as she reared back for her next throw, not wanting to see the annoying smirk the brunette was undoubtedly wearing. This time the ball flew straight and true, and she let out a soft whoop of celebration as the ball crashed into the target with a resounding clang. Bryn looked up at Anna just in time to see her drop into the water, and she placed her hands on her hips victoriously as she watched her bob to the surface.
“Nice throw,” Anna muttered as she pushed her hair out of her eyes.
Bryn’s answering smile could have lit CenturyLink Field. “Thank you.”
The man in the Hawaiian shirt reset the mechanism that locked the bench above the water into place, and Anna pushed herself easily back up onto the small seat. Bryn could not look away as Anna tugged ineffectively at her shirt, which molded itself even more inappropriately to her body after every pull. After a few seconds of futile effort—the shirt was large and determined to cling to Anna’s breasts—Bryn was surprised when Anna just ripped off the shirt and tossed it aside.
“So, seventeen more?” Anna asked, looking resigned to her fate.
/> The playful jab that had been on the tip of Bryn’s tongue died as her eyes zeroed-in on a drop of water that was sliding slowly down Anna’s stomach. Anna’s abs were taut and tan, with enough definition to make Bryn envious. She knew that she looked good for being forty, but the kind of definition Anna had was something she had lost around the time she passed the halfway mark of her third decade. Once the drop of water she was watching hit the waistband of Anna’s shorts, Bryn forced her eyes higher, and she bit her lip as she realized how very, very cold the water must be.
“I…” Bryn’s voice trailed off as she forced herself to look away from Anna’s nipples, and blushed at the knowing smirk Anna gave her. She had initially intended to dunk Anna once and leave it at that, but her embarrassment made her defiant. “Of course, Ms. Fitzpatrick.”
“Anna.”
Anna’s smirk was even wider now, the curve of her lips both infuriating and enchanting, and Bryn sighed as she once again wondered what in the world she had ever done to be plagued with Anna Fitzpatrick’s continued presence in her life. “Doctor.”
Anna groaned and threw her hands in the air. “Fine. Play it that way, Nakamura. Just know that one of these days I’m gonna get you to call me by my first name.”
Bryn held out her hand for another ball, and did not even bother look at the man in the Hawaiian shirt as he set it into her palm. “While I’m usually the first to say that it’s good for one to set goals, I do wonder why you are so determined to hear me say your name.”
“No reason,” Anna said, the playful twinkle in her eyes dimming by just a fraction.
The abrupt shift in Anna’s expression was disconcerting, but Bryn forced herself to ignore it as she looked down at the ball in her hand. She should not care.