Spectrum

by MJ Duncan

  The only problem was, she kind of did.

  The realization was unsettling, and Bryn’s brow furrowed as she tried to make sense of it. Clarity eluded her, however, and she sighed as she made a show of checking her watch. She had nowhere else to be—she had given her employees the day off to celebrate the holiday with their families and she was not ready to return to the vineyard just yet—but she needed to escape. She shook her head and handed the ball she was holding back to the man in the Hawaiian shirt.

  “I’m sorry,” Bryn said to Anna, forcing a smile as she gave her a small bow, “but I’m afraid that I’m late for an appointment. Enjoy the rest of your afternoon.”

  The crowd parted easily for her, and Bryn finally felt like she was able to draw a proper breath once she was free of it. Her chest felt tight, her head fuzzy, and she took another deep breath as she strode away from Anna Fitzpatrick, determined to pretend that she had emerged as the victor from their little confrontation.

  Eight

  The photograph of Mount Hood surrounded by a flaming sunset sky was perfect in both color and size for the spot Bryn had been looking to fill in the tasting room, and she was almost embarrassed by how easily she had managed to talk the photographer selling the print into agreeing to her price.

  She had just handed him her credit card to complete the transaction, when a soft hand grazed across the small of her back and a warm voice murmured in her ear, “Excellent choice, Ms. Nakamura.”

  A warm shiver rolled down her spine, and Bryn closed her eyes for a moment to slow her suddenly racing heartbeat. She crossed her arms over her chest as she turned to face Anna. “Are you stalking me, Ms. Fitzpatrick?”

  “Maybe.” Anna smirked and shoved her hands into the back pockets of her tan cargo shorts.

  “I’m surprised they let you out of your tank.”

  “I escaped. Don’t tell anyone,” Anna mock-whispered, throwing in a playful wink for good measure. “I meant it though. That’s a gorgeous picture. I especially love the contrast between the blue-gray foreground and the white peak against the sky.”

  “I do too,” Bryn murmured.

  “Here you go, Ms. Nakamura.” The photographer’s expression was apologetic as he held Bryn’s credit card to her, and she nodded her thanks as she took the card and slipped it back into her wallet.

  “Thank you.”

  “Of course. I just need you to sign here,” he said, holding his phone and a small stylus out for her.

  “That’s handy,” Anna observed as Bryn scribbled her name on the screen of the man’s phone.

  “It really is,” the photographer agreed, smiling at Anna before he turned his attention back to Bryn. “Would you like to take the print with you today, or would you prefer to pick it up at my gallery later?”

  Bryn glanced at Anna. “I…”

  “Come back and pick it up later,” Anna cajoled with a hopeful smile. “We can go exploring for a bit. I’ll even buy you a candied apple or something.”

  The idea of wandering the carnival with Anna was not entirely unappealing—though why that was, Bryn had no idea—and she found herself returning Anna’s smile with a small one of her own. “You honestly think a candied apple will be enough to sway my favor?”

  “Well, I mean…” Anna shrugged. “You don’t really strike me as a fried Twinkie type of girl.”

  Bryn grimaced. “That sounds positively revolting.”

  “But it is so, so good,” Anna practically moaned.

  “What are you, twelve?”

  “Thirty-one. So there.” Anna stuck her tongue out. “Come on, Nakamura,” she said, tilting her head toward the midway behind them and smiling. “Live a little.”

  Bryn sighed. She wanted to be annoyed, but there was something about the way Anna smiled at her that she was unable to resist. “Fine. But no Twinkies,” she said, pointing at Anna.

  Anna grinned, grabbed Bryn’s finger, and gave it a small shake. “Deal.”

  Bryn rolled her eyes as she turned back to the photographer. “I will leave the print here for the time being, and pick it up before I leave today, if that’s all right with you?”

  “Of course.” The photographer gave Bryn a small bow. “Would you like me wrap it for you?”

  “If you could, that would be wonderful. Thank you. Shall we, Doctor?” Bryn slipped her sunglasses back on and took off at a clip toward a booth a few yards away. She did not bother to try and hide her smile when she heard Anna hurry after her.

  “So…”

  Bryn arched a questioning brow over the black frame of her sunglasses and waited for Anna to continue.

  “Are you ever going to call me by my first name?”

  Bryn chuckled and shook her head. “Perhaps, some day…”

  “But not today,” Anna surmised.

  “Not today,” Bryn confirmed. She stopped in front of a particularly garish painting that was all loud colors and messy blobs, none of which seemed to go well together. “What do you think of this?”

  “Honestly?” Anna side-eyed Bryn.

  Bryn nodded. Abstract expressionism was far from her personal cup of tea, and she was curious as to what Anna thought of the painting. “Honesty is always preferred, yes.”

  Anna stared at the painting thoughtfully for a moment and then shrugged. “Honestly, I think my four-year-old niece could do a better job than that.”

  A disgruntled huff behind them made both Bryn and Anna freeze, their expressions identical in their embarrassment and surprise, and Bryn had to bite the inside of her cheek to contain the wild laughter she could feel bubbling in her throat.

  “Um, hello?” Anna gave a small wave as she turned toward the artist, a gawky woman with lavender-colored hair and a rather dangerous looking cane grasped tightly in her right hand.

  The lady looked like she might be only seconds away from beating Anna with her cane and, while Bryn could sympathize with the urge, she nevertheless stepped between the two women and offered the artist what she hoped would pass for an apologetic smile.

  “I apologize for my friend’s complete lack of appreciation for modern art,” Bryn said, giving Anna a small push toward the booths at the far end of the line. “We’ll just be going now.”

  Once they were perhaps ten yards away, Anna started laughing, and Bryn shook her head as she joined in. “My four-year-old niece could do better,” she muttered.

  Anna shrugged and pointed a finger at Bryn. “Hey, you wanted honesty. It’s not my fault the lady was standing right behind me.”

  “That is true,” Bryn admitted with a wry smile. “So, do you really have a four-year-old niece, or was that just something you threw in for comedic effect?”

  “Nope. I’ve got two of them, actually. Twins. I also have a one-year-old nephew and a three-month old niece,” Anna said as she led them around an older couple that had stopped in the middle of the walkway to discuss where they were headed next.

  “Holidays must be quite busy.”

  “They can be,” Anna admitted with a laugh. “I don’t get to see the kids very often because they’re all down in California, but I like to spoil them rotten whenever I go back home to visit. My goal is to forever be the ‘cool aunt’ who lets them do everything their parents won’t. Cookies and ice cream for dinner, all that kind of stuff.”

  “You aren’t worried that your siblings will return the favor when you have children?” Bryn asked.

  Anna shook her head. “Nah. I’m the fun one—my brother and sister don’t even let their kids have Coke.”

  “You make that sound like such a travesty,” Bryn pointed out.

  “Hey.” Anna grinned. “I’m all for healthy eating and stuff, but my brother once went an entire summer eating nothing but Hostess donuts and drinking nothing but Mountain Dew. It’s a little hypocritical of him to not let his kids even have a bag of Skittles.”

  Bryn shook her head in amusement. “How many siblings do you have?”

  “Just the two. You?”

&
nbsp; “None.” Bryn stared off into the distance as a familiar hollow feeling settled in her chest. She took a deep breath and sighed. She was actually enjoying herself, and she did not want to ruin it by thinking about her family. “So, Doctor Fitzpatrick, what is your specialty?”

  Bryn did not miss the curious look Anna shot her, but was thankful that she did not push. “Well, I do make a mean chili.”

  The tenseness that had settled around Bryn’s mouth, tugging the corners down ever-so-slightly faded at the light remark, and Bryn chuckled under her breath as she tipped her head at Anna in a silent ‘thank you’ for letting the matter drop. “That is very interesting. However, it was not what I was asking.”

  “I know.” Anna smiled bumped Bryn with her shoulder. “I’m an orthopedic surgeon.”

  “And what made you choose that field?”

  “My grandfather was an orthopedic surgeon, and I just…I dunno. I always wanted to be like him, I guess.”

  “He must be a great man.”

  “He was,” Anna agreed. “Anyways, how about you? What got you into the whole wine thing? Family business?”

  “Hardly,” Bryn muttered, shaking her head. “I have always enjoyed wine, and the process of making it fascinated me. And, well… It wasn’t finance—which is my family’s business.”

  Anna grimaced. “Eww, math.”

  “Ah, so you’re one of those people…”

  “Yep. I’m a simple girl. Gimme someone to cut open and some bones to fix and I’m happy.”

  “To each her own, I guess,” Bryn chuckled. “The numbers were never the problem for me, it was everything else that went along with them.” She shook her head at the questioning look Anna gave her. For now, that was all she was willing to share. “Anyway, when it became too much to deal with, I decided that I needed to get out. Kendall—my friend who was with me the day you crashed your car into my vineyard—”

  Anna groaned. “God, I am never going to live that down, am I?”

  “Not any time soon.” Bryn smiled. “But, as I was saying, I was on the phone with Kendall after a particularly awful day, and she told me about a client of hers who was looking to sell their vineyard here in Washington. It was too good of an opportunity to pass up, so I bought the property sight unseen and the rest is history.”

  “I’m glad it’s worked out for you.”

  Bryn nodded. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” After a moment, Anna added, “And, how are the…um, repairs, coming along?”

  “They’re all finished. Now it’s just a matter of waiting a few years for the vines to mature, and that section should be back to its previous production.”

  “I am sorry, you know.”

  Whatever annoyance Bryn had harbored toward Anna even hours before had disappeared the moment Anna had gotten caught insulting that horrible painting, and she let out a soft sigh as she nodded. “Yes, I know. I do have one question about that, though, if you don’t mind…”

  “Hmm?”

  “What in the world happened to send your car careening off the road like that?”

  Anna flashed an embarrassed smile and rubbed the back of her neck. “It, uh…you see, a grasshopper flew through the open window and hit me in the face.”

  The story was so ridiculous that Bryn stopped walking and turned to look at Anna, but she was unable to tell by Anna’s expression if she was telling the truth or not. “A grasshopper,” she repeated.

  “Yes, a grasshopper. Those little bastards are creepy, okay?” Anna shuddered dramatically. “Big ol’ freaking bugs, jumping all over the place willy-nilly so that you can’t predict where they’re going to be next.”

  Bryn smiled and shook her head. “You’re not kidding, are you?”

  “God, I wish.” Anna threw her hands in the air. “I know that I should try and come up with a better story, but that’s honestly what happened.”

  “That is actually rather amusing,” Bryn pointed out.

  “Yeah, maybe to you. You weren’t the one who had a big-ass grasshopper fly into their face!”

  “I have had that happen on many occasions during trail rides at night, since they live in the brush in the hills and that’s when they hunt.”

  Anna shuddered. “No thank you.”

  “Duly noted.” Bryn shook her head. “No evening trail rides for you, then.”

  Anna’s eyes widened in surprise, and she said quickly, “I mean, if you really wanted me to join you for an evening ride, I wouldn’t be totally opposed.”

  “Grasshoppers and all? I must say, Ms. Fitzpatrick, you really are a glutton for punishment, aren’t you?”

  “You would not be the first to accuse me of that, actually,” Anna admitted with a grin. “It’s all part of my charm.”

  “That’s…more than a little disconcerting, actually.”

  Anna laughed and shrugged. “Yeah, well…”

  Bryn shook her head, not wanting to admit to herself or Anna that, despite her best effort, Anna’s charm was slowly but surely working its magic on her. “But, as I trust my horses to not plow recklessly through the vineyard, laying waste to everything in their path—”

  “Oh my God!” Anna threw her hands up in the air. “I said I was sorry!”

  Bryn smiled. “Yes, you have. So, perhaps a ride is not entirely out of the question.”

  Bryn’s breath caught in her throat at the beatific smile that lit Anna’s face as her words sank in, but before Anna could respond, a deep, booming voice called out, “Dude! Fitz!”

  She turned with Anna to see the brunette’s friends from the accident waving at them from in front of a funnel cake vendor. Their knowing smirks made Bryn uncomfortable, and she pursed her lips together as she turned toward Anna.

  “I’m sorry,” Anna murmured, looking almost as sorry as Bryn felt that they had been interrupted. “I told them that I’d meet up with them after my shift in the dunk tank to hang out and watch the fireworks.”

  “No, it’s fine,” Bryn assured her. “Really.”

  “You are more than welcome to join us,” Anna said hopefully.

  It was a tempting offer, but one more look back at Anna’s friends—who were watching them intently, not even bothering to hide their curiosity—was enough to make Bryn shake her head. “Thank you for the offer, but there are things I need to do back at Spectrum. I’ve already stayed far longer than I had intended.”

  “Oh, okay,” Anna said, nodding slowly. “Of course. I…maybe I’ll see you around?”

  “I look forward to it,” Bryn answered honestly, a genuine warmth creeping into her tone. “Until next time, Doctor.”

  Her heart fluttered in her chest at the way Anna smiled back at her—so warm and open and unapologetically happy—and she sighed as she turned on her heel and started back toward the photographer’s booth at the other end of the parking lot where Anna had surprised her. She had taken only a handful of steps when Anna’s voice calling after her made her stop in her tracks.

  “Some day I’m going to get you to call me Anna.”

  Bryn laughed as she turned around. “Perhaps,” she said, tipping her head in one last small, final bow. “But not today. Good day, Ms. Fitzpatrick.”

  Anna nodded and waved. “Later, Nakamura.”

  Nine

  The idea of an iced coffee from Jitters was too tempting for Bryn to pass up as she finished her errands in town, already exhausted despite the fact that it was not quite noon. She had not slept well in the two nights that had passed since the carnival, and that lack of rest was beginning to catch up to her in spades, making simple tasks like keeping her eyes open increasingly difficult. She yawned as she held the door to the shop for a couple that was leaving with two coffees and a crying toddler, and shook her head as she stepped inside.

  She saw her the moment she cleared the threshold, sitting in a wingback leather chair against the far wall with her legs tucked up underneath her as she read, oblivious to the packed tables and chairs that surrounded her. B
ryn froze, completely blocking the doorway as she stared at Anna, who was dressed casually in a pair of faded jeans that fit her like a glove and an open blue-plaid camp shirt over what looked like a white tank top, and if Bryn had not known better, she would have pegged her as a student, rather than a doctor. Anna looked young and carefree as she reached for the cup on the small table beside her, her lips quirking in a small, secretive smile as her fingers slipped around the ceramic mug. Bryn’s eyes traced the line of Anna’s jaw and the curve of her cheek, and she wondered what Anna was reading that made her smile like that.

  She had thought about Anna far more often than she cared to admit in the thirty-six hours since she had left the fair. There was very little that she had done in the last day and a half that had not made her think of Anna, and she eventually ended up down at her barn yesterday afternoon, convinced that a long ride with just her and Morgana and the serenity of her vineyard would be enough to clear her mind. Her plan had worked until she cantered past the newly-replanted section of vines near the road, which made her think about the first time she had laid eyes on Anna Fitzpatrick, and she could not keep from chuckling at the blur of grasshoppers that zipped across her path as she made the turn toward the barn.

  She found herself thinking about Anna again as she groomed Morgana after their ride, absently wondering if Anna had been sincere when she had said she would like to go on a ride with her. It was a scenario she found too much joy in imagining—though whether that was because of the possibility of a grasshopper sighting or something else, she did not know. Even after she returned home, her thoughts would randomly drift to Anna, and she began to grow increasingly frustrated with her unexplainable fascination with the woman.

  She knew that she should not care about anything Anna Fitzpatrick did, not now that all accounts from the accident had been settled and her life was slowly but surely returning to its staid, predictable routine. But, at the same time, those thoughts of Anna were always there, lurking below the surface, popping up whenever she least expected and filling her with a feeling of jittery anticipation that made no sense considering the fact that she had only recently moved beyond being annoyed by Anna’s mere presence.