Where You Least Expect

by Lydia Rowan

  She was proud of her work, but in the end, her opinion didn’t matter. Blakely would be the final arbiter, and though Verna knew she couldn’t let one customer decide her fate, she wanted this to go well. Another glance around the room made Verna even more nervous. The living room, everything she’d seen in Blakely’s house in fact, was picture perfect. Not a single thing was out of place. Verna could even see the zigzag lines that the vacuum had left on the plush carpet, and the hardwood floors shined. Verna laughed, thinking that even dust wasn’t brave enough to cross Blakely.

  “Something funny?”

  Blakely’s voice cut into her thoughts, and Verna jumped, feeling like she’d been caught misbehaving.

  “Uh, nothing. So,” she said, “what did you think?”

  Blakely’s bright smile was simultaneously surprising and relieving.

  “They are amazing, Verna! Absolutely perfect. And you have probably guessed that I wouldn’t use that word lightly.”

  “Yes!” Verna exclaimed, pumping her fist in the air.

  A knock sounded at the door.

  “One second, please,” Blakely said as she walked to the front door and opened it. Ariel Mallick, one of the town’s mechanics, entered.

  “Hey, Ariel!” Verna said.

  “Hey, Verna,” she replied.

  “Good, you know each other,” Blakely stated.

  “Oh yeah. Ariel and Dani have breakfast as Love’s at least once a week. And where is that adorable little girl? I haven’t seen her since I left the restaurant.”

  At Blakely’s urging, Ariel sat next to Verna, and Blakely sat in an armchair off to the side.

  “She’s at pre-K. I actually need to pick her up soon, but I wanted to see how Blake’s pants turned out.”

  Verna quirked a brow. “You’re in the market for custom clothes?” she asked, surprised at the statement.

  “Of course not. You know me better than that. Shoot, I bought my wedding dress off the rack. But my mother-in-law is always looking for some formal piece or another, and I thought it’d be nice to see whether she might like your stuff.”

  “Thank you, Ariel. That would be great.”

  “No problem, and based on your expression, Blakely, I assume you like it,” Ariel said, turning toward the other woman.

  Blakely laughed. “I’ve purchased from the highest-end boutiques and had more than a few custom pieces made but Verna’s blow them away. The length is perfect, something that’s hard to find for us vertically challenged ladies, and the quality is impressive. I love them, Verna.”

  She smiled ear to ear and worried she might explode with happiness at the compliments. After a few more minutes of chatter and promises to catch up for dinner, Verna left Blakely’s feeling a thousand times more excited than she had when she’d met the other woman. It was a step, in the grand scheme probably a very small one, but she’d proved that she could do this and could start to see the path shaping up in front of her.

  And best of all, though she’d never admit it out loud, she got to share her news with Joe.

  ••••

  Joe huffed out a laugh when he heard Verna’s car pull up. He’d been peeking out of the window at every little noise all afternoon, anxious to hear how her meeting had gone. She’d been wound up and nervous about it, and though he’d done his best to calm her, she’d still been worried. He’d even gone so far as to tell her how great the pants looked, and the cutting glare she’d tossed at him had him beating a hasty retreat.

  But she was back now, and as she walked toward her front door, he tried to gauge how it had gone. Her face and posture gave nothing away though, and soon, far too soon, he lost sight of her as she entered the house. Ignoring the sting of disappointment that she hadn’t come directly to him, he drifted back to the living room. She hadn’t said she would, but Joe had believed she’d want to see him immediately, good or bad. He shrugged and then shook his head. They’d agreed to keep things light, and maybe she viewed this as too personal to share. And it was unfair of him to expect things from her that he couldn’t give of himself.

  Still, the disappointment tugged at him, at least until, about ten minutes later, he heard a knock at the door. His heart soared and he practically ran to answer it. Verna was still unreadable as she walked in and his pulse increased.

  “Well?” he finally said when it looked like she was going to say nothing.

  She turned to him, face blank, and then her eyes went bright and she practically leaped into his arms.

  “She loved them, Joe!” Verna exclaimed, hugging him tight.

  He returned the embrace and felt the happiness and relief filter through him.

  “Congratulations! I told you they were great,” he said as he pulled back a bit. Then he leaned down and kissed the corner of her mouth.

  “Yeah, ’cause you’re an expert,” she said, but he could see through her front and tell that his words pleased her.

  “Don’t have to be an expert in fashion. You made them, so I knew they’d be good.”

  He’d whispered the words against her ear and felt Verna’s smile in response underneath his lips.

  “Thank you, Joe,” she said, and then she turned her head slightly so that her lips covered his.

  The need that Verna always stoked rose inside him, and from her fervent kisses, he could tell she felt the same. Her hands roaming across his body only intensified the feeling, which ratcheted up further when she slid a hand over his belt buckle and down farther to grasp his cock. He swelled at her touch, going fully erect almost instantly, the warm brush of Verna’s breath against his lips as she touched him making him groan.

  She stepped out of his grasp, and he reached out for her, missing the feel of her in his arms in just the few seconds they had been separated. But she eluded him and then captured his hand with hers and pulled him behind her as she walked up the stairs. With leisurely, unhurried movements that contrasted with the desire in her eyes, Verna peeled his clothing away piece by piece, pausing to kiss and lick at his skin as it was revealed.

  He did the same, tracing the dip and swell of her curves with his hands and then with his mouth. When they were both naked, he lay back, his cock hard and practically straining toward her. He bucked toward her, the brush of her hands against his cock as she rolled a condom down his length only increasing his anticipation of what was soon to follow.

  And as she slowly settled atop him, the snug grip of her walls closing around his cock making him cry out, it occurred to him that he was exactly where he wanted to be and exactly where he belonged.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “You’ve really never been here?” Blakely asked.

  “Nope,” Verna responded as she looked around Mason’s Bar & Grille. “It felt a little too much like sleeping with the enemy, and besides, I was usually so tired that I never felt up to coming out. And”—she made an ugly face as she glanced at the neon sign in the window—“that superfluous ‘e’ in ‘grille’ is just annoying. Didn’t want to spend my money in a place that put on that kind of airs.”

  Blakely and Ariel laughed, as did Amanda Adkins, a local elementary school teacher and one of Ariel’s good friends, who’d decided to join them. Blakely shook her head at Verna.

  “Well,” Blakely said after their laughter had died down, “I’m glad you could get past your reservations and decided to come out. I was going a little stir-crazy,” she said.

  “Me too,” Ariel chimed in. “My mother-in-law has Dani tonight, and I couldn’t miss the chance to spend an evening not watching DVR’ed episodes of Doc McStuffins.”

  They all laughed again and headed to an open table, and after ordering a round of drinks, Verna took the opportunity to look around. Love’s Cafeteria was the most popular breakfast and lunch place in Thornehill Springs, but Mason’s was by far the most popular dinner spot. There were other restaurants in town, but in addition to food, Mason’s had a big bar and a few pool tables and served as the gathering spot for those who wanted to get ou
t without driving to Charlotte.

  It was true that Verna was usually tired in the evening and that her parents, her father especially, would view it as a hostile act for her to patronize another establishment, but there was another reason she’d never ventured in. Silly as it was, between the military guys and the popular crowd that hung out there, Mason’s had always had an aura of coolness that made her uncomfortable. She’d been certain that should she walk through those doors, everyone would stop and laugh, or God forbid, some kindly patron would gently pat her on the hand as she explained that people like Verna had no place here.

  She cringed even thinking about it, upset with herself for letting fear rule her for so long. But her presence here was just another thing that she could thank Joe for. They hadn’t talked about the restaurant specifically, but she could easily picture his face as she explained her fear, see that silly-Verna head shake that said she was doing something stupid and preventing herself from living her life to the fullest, and knew that he’d have her here every day until she got it through her thick head that this was just a place, the patrons just people, the fear and discomfort she may have felt a creation of her own mind.

  That she hadn’t been able to fully apply his real and pretend admonitions to her everyday life was disheartening, but she was getting better all the time, as proved by her presence here. And she had to say, it seemed a fun, lively place, but it was just a restaurant and no one here was any better than her.

  She smiled at the thought and then looked over at Blakely, who’d tapped her on the shoulder.

  “So what’s got you so happy?” she asked again, before taking the last sip of her “good enough” daiquiri.

  “I don’t know; I just feel…good, happy. Like maybe I’ve finally gotten a handle on things and maybe I can make something out of what has been a pretty pathetic life so far.”

  She had Joe to thank for that, though she’d never admit it out loud, especially not to him.

  “Your life has been anything but pathetic, Verna, and maybe one day you’ll see that, but I’m happy that you’re feeling good. Now if I could get you to stop being so hard on yourself, we might be cooking with gas.”

  “Toast to that,” Ariel said, and they all raised their drinks.

  A few hours and a few daiquiris later, Verna felt as good as she could remember. Amanda, a shy-seeming thing, hadn’t moved an inch, but Ariel, free from the responsibility of motherhood for the evening, had really let go, dancing with anyone brave enough to ask and generally having a good old time. Even Blakely had relaxed, going so far as to remove her jacket and unbutton the top two buttons on her blouse, something that Verna had teased her about. She’d even accepted a dance from a terrified-looking local who’d claimed to have gone to high school with her.

  Alone at the table with Amanda for a moment, Verna used the time to just soak in the atmosphere. She was out for a normal evening like a normal person, and the insecurity and shame that had kept her paralyzed were nowhere to be found. She didn’t even mind that no one had asked her to dance. Putting aside the fact that she hated dancing, she didn’t need validation from these people. Joe had proven that she was desirable, and if she was good enough for him, she had to be doubly good enough for anyone else.

  The sound of men’s laughter drew her gaze to a table to the left of the dining room, and when she looked over, her heart stuttered at the sight of Joe, her gaze finding him unerringly in the group of six or seven other men that he was with. For a moment, she wondered if she’d imagined him. The hunger for him that always seemed present had, as expected, been present tonight as well, and it could be that the daiquiris and happiness that were currently coursing through her system had her seeing things.

  But then he gave a slight nod, and she knew he was real. Quashing the inclination to run over there, she instead smiled back and returned the nod. He was out with friends, and it wouldn’t be fair to try to take his attention, and besides, so was she, and she couldn’t ever let herself rely on Joe as a crutch. Still, seeing him had been a thrill that was a perfect cap to the night.

  “Is he your boyfriend?” Amanda asked, her voice almost a whisper.

  She looked over at the other woman.

  “Who?” she responded, though she knew exactly who Amanda was referring to.

  “That Army guy. He’s been looking over here all night.”

  “Navy,” Verna said automatically, and then she smiled. “No, he’s just…” She trailed off, searching for the right word for what Joe was to her. “A friend.” The word didn’t even begin to touch what they shared, but it seemed fitting enough.

  Amanda nodded but didn’t say anything else, and neither did Verna, but a stupid idea had gotten stuck in her head.

  When Blakely and Ariel returned, Amanda asked, “Are we ready to leave?”

  Ariel nodded. “Oh yes. I haven’t been out this late in five years, and I know the little one isn’t going to sleep till eleven so Mommy can recover.”

  “Nope, in fact, she’ll probably be up extra early,” Verna said.

  “Don’t wish that on me, evil woman,” her new friend said, and then she smiled. “But it’s fine if she is. I needed this, and I’m glad I had the chance to hang with you guys.”

  “Agreed. Let me run to the ladies’, and then we’ll get out of here, okay?” Verna said.

  After the chorus of yeses, she stood and weaved her way through the tables, headed to the ladies’ room, the circuitous path taking her close to the table where Joe sat with his companions. She looked at the table quickly and just as quickly looked away. Maybe she should go over and say hi. They were neighbors after all, and what was the harm in a simple, friendly hello? But on the other hand, she didn’t want to intrude, even accidentally, on his night. Still as she followed the circuitous path between the tables—she definitely would have rearranged them to make the traffic flow more smoothly—she found herself close to Joe’s group. At that point, it would almost be rude to not say something.

  So she walked over, a smile plastered on her face, and then stopped next to Joe. He wore a smile of his own, one that was his but that seemed strained. And he’d given no indication that he saw her standing next to him. Before she could think, she reached out and tapped his shoulder as she had what seemed like a million times before, her smile faltering when he flinched.

  “Hey, Joe,” she said, hating the timidity in her voice.

  He said nothing, didn’t even spare her a glance.

  “A friend of yours, Joe?” one of the others said around a smirk to a chorus of laughter in response. She didn’t know who’d spoken and didn’t want to turn her head to find out. If she did, she might miss some clue as to why Joe wasn’t speaking to her or looking at her. The moment stretched, each second that passed more excruciating than the one that had come before it.

  And then Joe picked up his glass and took a sip, and the reality of the moment crashed through her like a shot. She tried to deny it, grasped for any other explanation, but there was none. For an instant, she worried that she might lose the contents of her stomach from the intensity of her embarrassment, but she managed to choke back the bile that burned her throat. And then she found a way to turn and propel herself toward the bathroom, keeping her from hearing the laughter—his laughter—as she moved.

  She looked back at the table before she could stop herself and saw every eye—except for Joe’s—on her. There was no doubt who they’d been laughing at. The expression on the men’s faces, some amused, others slightly embarrassed and apologetic, Joe’s completely blank, only confirmed the truth.

  And that truth shattered her.

  Quickly, she looked away and focused on finding the bathroom without making a bigger fool of herself.

  When she got inside, she stood next to the door, trying to make her lungs work normally, while her mind processed what had just happened. It wasn’t working. She was light-headed, stunned, and her mind kept trying to put another spin on it, come up with another explanation f
or what she’d heard, for what had happened.

  There wasn’t one.

  It would have been kinder if he’d insulted her. But to do that, to deny her very existence, to treat her as if she were nothing… She couldn’t decide whether it mattered that he’d done so after he himself had insisted with his words she was worthwhile, even when she would have denied it, after he’d so lovingly showed it with his body and his actions. But she couldn’t think of a time when she’d hurt more than she did in this moment, the tight pull in her chest making it feel impossible to breathe.

  “Is anyone—Oh, Verna, hey, you ready?” Blakely asked as she pushed open the door.

  Apparently, Verna had been in her own world long enough for Blakely to come looking for her. She took a couple of slow, deep breaths and tried to keep a tight rein on her emotions.

  “Yes, let’s go,” Verna said, her voice sounding far away in her own ears.

  Blakely looked at her, the other woman’s sharp gaze roaming over her face. Verna prayed she wouldn’t ask any questions; she wasn’t up to talking. Thankfully, after another long, assessing gaze, Blakely nodded and stepped aside, allowing Verna to exit. As they walked back to their table, Verna refused to look over at Joe. She hoped her face was impassive and didn’t betray the fact that hurt gripped her so tight that her lungs didn’t want to expand, that the pain had left her both hollow and full with anguish she had never imagined, but she almost didn’t care. The only thing that mattered was getting the fuck out of there without losing her shit.

  Somehow, through Blakely’s efforts she guessed, they were soon loaded into a taxi, with Verna’s house as the first stop.