The Roundabout

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The Roundabout Page 11

by Gerri Hill


  Leah met her gaze, trying to decide if Megan’s annoyance was directed at her or if it was still the result of Mary Beth’s latest post. She decided the latter and gave her a teasing smile.

  “I guess technically some would call it a first-date good night kiss,” she said. “I think the first long kiss is after the second date. That would be the first real kiss. Which is why I wouldn’t really call last night’s thing a kiss.”

  Megan stared at her. “There will be no kissing. Ever.”

  “Well, yeah, it’s not like it’s real kissing, Megan. I mean, we’re fake dating so it would only be fake kissing,” she said reasonably. “You know, it’s not like I want to kiss you.”

  Megan continued to stare at her. She finally nodded. “Okay. As weird as this whole situation is, I guess that makes sense.” She turned to go, then stopped once again. “I’ll pick you up at eight.”

  “And I will look forward to it.”

  “And don’t look at my picture,” Megan said. “Erase it from your mind.”

  “Of course,” Leah said. “I barely glanced at it anyway.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  As soon as the door closed behind Megan, Leah let out a laugh. For some reason, she found Megan Phenix extremely adorable in her exasperated state. Her smile lingered as she went back into her office, her gaze landing on the iPad. She reached for it, then stopped. Surely she could find something else to entertain her this morning other than a shadowy, almost naked picture of Megan.

  She sat down at her desk and pulled her laptop in front of her instead, going back to the emails she had only glanced through earlier. The large outdoor sign was going up tomorrow, and the displays and new shelving should be completed by Friday. Next week her inventory would start trickling in. She was both excited and apprehensive about that. She would soon open Ruby’s for real. But what if she had no customers? She’d done enough research to know that the first month could be brutal for a new shop. A lot of the tourists who came to Eureka Springs were frequent visitors and not first-timers. And repeat visitors tended to go to familiar shops and restaurants, not new ones. She had to hope that because the Phenix Grill was the most popular eating place in town, Ruby’s would get some exposure from people walking by on their way to eat. That was one advantage of having limited parking in town…a lot of customers simply walked the streets.

  She sighed. No sense worrying about that now. She would have all summer.

  Chapter Twenty

  Megan glanced around as inconspicuously as possible, feeling all eyes on them. Leah was perusing the menu, seemingly oblivious to the stares.

  “This is too stressful,” Megan whispered. “I feel like we’re being scrutinized.”

  “I’m sure we are,” Leah said easily. “How are the omelets?”

  “The Mexican omelet is very good,” she said as she picked up her coffee cup and took a sip. “I’m sure it falls into the Tex-Mex category though. Maybe you should avoid it.”

  Leah smiled. “It’s got avocado. I think that’s more California than Texas.”

  Megan stared at her. “You are a snob, aren’t you.”

  Leah laughed quietly. “Only about wine and Mexican food.”

  The conversations going on around them stopped when the door opened and Megan swore she could have heard a pin drop. Mary Beth Sturgeon walked inside, and Megan’s eyes darted back to Leah. “Oh, my God,” she murmured as she touched a hand to her chest. “I’m going to hyperventilate.”

  Leah smiled reassuringly at her. “Everything’s fine,” she whispered.

  “She’s going to know we’re faking,” she said, her mouth barely moving as she spoke.

  “Relax,” Leah said, her eyes never leaving Megan’s. “Look at me. Smile.”

  Mary Beth brushed past their table with barely a glance at them, and everyone in the room seemed to exhale at the same time, including Megan. She looked to her right, noting that Mary Beth had a perfect view of their table.

  “I don’t think I can eat anything,” she whispered. “I’m so nervous, I’m likely to throw up.”

  “Why are you letting her get to you like this?”

  “Because she has naked pictures of me!” she snapped as quietly as she could.

  “And whose fault is that?” Leah asked with a teasing smile.

  Megan wanted to knock the smile from her face but thought that would be a dead giveaway that they weren’t really dating. Or maybe everyone would think they were having a lover’s spat on only their second date. Instead of reaching across the table to strangle Leah, she forced a smile to her own face.

  “It is, of course, my fault. And whoever brought the PatrÓn tequila,” she added.

  “You never did tell me the whole story,” Leah said.

  Megan sighed. She might as well get it over with. If Leah didn’t hear it from her, no doubt she would eventually hear it from someone in town. “Erin—the Wicked Witch—called me. Nancy wouldn’t let me answer my phone, but I did listen to her voice mail. It was a rambling message telling me how happy she was and what a wonderful year she’d had and blah, blah, blah,” she said, echoing Nancy’s description of the voice mail. “I was feeling sorry for myself,” she admitted. “And lonely. And I was at a stupid surprise party that I wished Nancy hadn’t thrown for me.” She sighed again. “So I kidnapped the PatrÓn bottle and had my way with it.”

  “I thought you weren’t really emotionally attached to her—Erin.”

  “I wasn’t. She was ten years younger than me. We had no business dating in the first place.”

  “But she was cute,” Leah supplied.

  “Yes. And well…it had been eight years,” she said pointedly.

  Leah grinned. “So the sex was great, huh?”

  “After eight years, a blow-up doll would have been great.”

  Leah laughed loudly, causing curious stares to be directed at them. Megan laughed too, then sobered when she saw Mary Beth watching them.

  “Anyway, that’s not the point,” she continued. “It’s just the fact that she cheated on me and then made a big production about it at my birthday, so the whole damn town knew.”

  “But you didn’t date long, right?”

  Megan shook her head. “No, only about six months or so. But I was very upfront with her at the start. I told her about Tammi. She knew that she’d cheated on me for nearly the whole four years we were together,” she said. “She knew how I felt about that. I told her at the beginning…if we were going to date, then we were only going to date. I told her if she wasn’t ready for that then she shouldn’t commit to it.”

  “But she did commit.”

  “Yes. And I knew right away that it was a mistake on my part. I knew it wasn’t going anywhere, I knew I wasn’t going to fall in love with her. That’s what makes me so angry,” she said. “I should have ended things with her. Instead, we kept dating.”

  “And she cheated on you,” Leah finished for her. “What about Tammi? Were you in love with her?”

  “Yes. She was attractive. Charming. Funny.” She smiled. “Nancy likes to add ‘conniving.’” She paused when Bonnie returned to their table with a decanter of coffee in her hand.

  “Decide what you want yet?” Bonnie asked.

  She nodded. “I’ll have the Mexican omelet,” she said. “No avocado for me.”

  “I’ll have the same,” Leah said. “You can toss her avocado on mine,” she added with a smile. “And I’d prefer Monterey Jack, if you have it.”

  “Sure thing.” Bonnie touched Megan’s shoulder and winked. “She’s cute,” she said, loud enough for Leah to hear.

  Megan met Leah’s gaze across the table, noting she had a slightly embarrassed look on her face. She looked back at Bonnie and smiled. “Yes, she is.” As soon as Bonnie left, she asked, “Does that make you uncomfortable?”

  “What? A compliment?”

  “Being called cute.”

  “I’m too old to be called cute,” Leah said.

  Megan waved her p
rotest away. “You’re attractive and you know it.”

  “Well, thank you for thinking so,” Leah said. “I’ll admit, when I first stopped coloring my hair, I was very self-conscious about it.”

  “When did you go gray?”

  “I was in my early twenties when my first gray hair popped up. By my late twenties, I was coloring it. My natural color is dark brown, but I kept it a little lighter than that,” she said.

  “But you gave up the fight?”

  Leah smiled and nodded. “I was forty-four, and my parents and I had a three-week trip planned to Europe. I was so busy trying to tie up things at work and get packed and everything that I missed my hair appointment,” she said. “I wore my hair a little longer back then and the gray was showing, but I couldn’t squeeze in the time to get it colored. So I thought I’d just go with it and get it done when I got back.”

  Megan smiled. “What happened? Did you just say screw it?”

  “Pretty much. By the time we got back, I had two inches of gray roots showing. I guess I hadn’t realized just how gray I was. Instead of getting it colored, I got it cut very short, taking most of the brown off.” She shrugged. “I let it grow out, got rid of the brown and here we are,” she said, pointing to her head.

  Megan’s gaze swept over her, liking the style that Leah sported now. Parted on the side, her bangs were just long enough to brush her eyebrows. As if uncomfortable with her staring, Leah tucked a few strands behind her ear, revealing a twinkling diamond earring.

  “I like your hair,” Megan said truthfully. “And if you’re wondering if it makes you look old, it doesn’t. In fact, you look much younger than Nancy, but don’t you dare tell her I said that.”

  “My age doesn’t bother me,” Leah said. “It’s just a number. In the grand scheme of things, it’s all about how you feel. I walk or use my bike for transportation as much as I can,” she said. “I try to eat healthfully.” Then she smiled. “Although since I’ve been here, I can’t really say that’s been going as planned.”

  “It’s impossible to eat healthy if you eat out. I know. I own a restaurant,” she said. “You don’t even want to know how many calories and fat grams are in one of our burgers. Of course, that’s why they’re so good!”

  Leah nodded. “I’ve flirted with being vegetarian, vegan even,” she said. “On and off for the last thirty years. But I miss having a good steak every once in a while. And burgers.” She smiled. “And cheese. Although of everything, dairy was the easiest to give up.”

  “I was a vegetarian in college,” Megan said. “Three years.”

  “Why’d you stop?”

  “A barbecue and beer party during football season was my undoing.”

  “You know, you never said where you’re from.”

  “St. Louis,” Megan said. “Our parents still live there. And barbecue was the hardest for me to give up. Smoked ribs,” she said with a moan. “My dad makes the best ribs. He slow smokes them for hours and hours. Spicy enough to have a bite but not overly so and tender enough that the meat practically falls off the bone.” She nearly licked her lips at the memory of her father’s ribs. “He makes his own sauce too. A recipe he refuses to share with us.”

  “I’m not much for barbecue,” Leah said.

  “I guess not,” she said. “You’re from California, after all.”

  “I’ll admit, we are grillers and not barbecuers,” Leah said. “I am partial to grilled fish, by the way. In case, you know, you want to surprise me with dinner sometime.”

  Megan smiled. “I think if I surprise you with dinner, I’ll have Johnny grill—”

  She stopped when the door opened, seeing Sarah hurrying inside. Her hair was pulled back into its normal ponytail, and she paused to run a hand over it before heading to Mary Beth’s table. Megan had been so comfortable chatting with Leah that she’d almost forgotten about Mary Beth and Sarah’s standing breakfast date. And really, that was the only reason she was here with Leah in the first place—to let Mary Beth know that they were dating.

  She leaned forward, keeping her voice low. “That was Sarah.”

  Leah nodded. “They’re whispering.” Then she smiled. “Much like we are.”

  Megan nearly laughed and leaned back. “I’m afraid to look over there. Does Mary Beth looked pissed?”

  “She has shot daggers at me with her eyes, yes,” Leah said. Then she looked past Megan and smiled, her eyes widening. “Good. Breakfast. I’m starving.”

  Bonnie placed two plates on the table, one covered with avocado slices and the other bare. The omelet shared the plate with fried potatoes and a somewhat wilted sprig of parsley. A bowl of salsa was placed in the middle of the table for them to share.

  “Looks great,” Leah said. “Thank you.”

  “My pleasure. Need more coffee?”

  Leah shook her head. “None for me.”

  “I’m good,” Megan said. “Thanks.”

  Leah dug into her omelet with gusto, moaning at the first bite. She then scooped up a spoonful of salsa and added that on top of the avocado.

  “I take it you approve?”

  “Excellent,” Leah said. “But if I come here again, I’ll order extra peppers and ask to have the avocado inside with the vegetables.” She raised her eyebrow. “I take it you don’t like avocados?”

  “I don’t like them with eggs,” Megan corrected. “On a burger, I love them. And spicy, chunky guacamole is a favorite. In fact, Johnny makes great guacamole. It might even satisfy your superior California taste buds,” she teased.

  Leah smiled. “Well, at least you recognize that we are superior when it comes to Mexican food.”

  “You’ll be singing a different tune when I drag you to El Gallo’s for Tex-Mex,” she said. “You’re going to love their saucy, cheesy enchiladas so much, you’ll be begging me to take you back there.”

  Leah gave her a flirty grin. “I may be begging you for something, but I doubt it’ll be Tex-Mex.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Megan tapped her foot to the music as she filled a frosty mug with beer. It wasn’t even six yet, but the place was hopping. It had been a gloriously warm and sunny day, with the weekend forecasted to be the same. Apparently the good weather was bringing tourists with it as she only recognized a few familiar faces sitting around the bar.

  “It’s almost like a Friday night in June, isn’t it?” Nancy asked.

  “I was just thinking that we were a little busier than last week,” she said as she slid the beer down the bar to Ray, one of the locals who came almost every Friday. “Are you helping with tables?” she asked Nancy.

  “No. Eileen said they were covered. I just came from the kitchen.”

  Megan nodded. While Nancy enjoyed helping with the food prep, she did not. She’d much rather help Clint at the bar than chop onions and slice tomatoes and the like.

  “You ever going to tell me about your date with Leah?”

  Megan had been intentionally quiet about it, wondering how long it would be before Nancy quizzed her. So she shrugged. “It was breakfast. Not much to tell,” she said truthfully. “Although Mary Beth was there.”

  “Yes, I heard.”

  “Oh?”

  “She and Sarah have breakfast there every Wednesday,” Nancy said. “I thought you knew that.”

  “I assure you, I do not keep up with Mary Beth’s breakfast schedule,” she lied. Then, “Why? What did she say?”

  “She said she was glad she saw you.”

  Megan frowned. “Why’s that?”

  “She said it eased her fears,” Nancy said.

  “What fears?” she asked, her voice sounding a bit nervous to her own ears.

  “Her fear that you and Leah were already romantically involved. She said she didn’t see anything to indicate that you were more than friends.”

  Megan scoffed. “It was our second date. And really, it was breakfast. Can you even call that a date?”

  “Well…was it a date?”

  O
h…damn. What the hell did they need to do for people to think they were dating? Have sex on the table or something? But she would play innocent.

  “Well, there was no sloppy kiss afterward, if that’s what you mean.”

  “So are you dating or not?”

  Megan threw up her hands. “We went out to dinner. We went out for breakfast. What constitutes dating? We’re not having sex, if that’s what you’re asking,” she said bluntly. “And I’ve not seen her since Wednesday morning.” She groaned silently. Good Lord, was she trying to convince Nancy that they weren’t dating?

  “So you’re not really interested in her?”

  “I like her fine,” she said. “We’re getting to know each other.”

  “So you are interested in her?”

  “Interested in dating? Interested in a relationship? Interested in…what?”

  It was Nancy’s turn to throw up her hands. “You’re being difficult!”

  “You’re asking too many questions!”

  “Do you like her or not? That’s a simple question.”

  “We’ve managed to get through two meals without too much arguing. I like her better now than when I first met her. How’s that?”

  “Again…you’re being difficult,” Nancy said as she huffed off.

  “Need two ’ritas on the rocks,” Eileen called from the other side of the bar. “Top shelf, no salt on one.”

  Megan was glad for the interruption, and she went about mindlessly squeezing lime juice into the cocktail shaker. God, what was with Nancy and all the questions? She sighed. Maybe she should invite Leah over to the bar. She could sit at the end, and they could pretend to visit during slow times. But she looked around. It was a Friday night. There would be no slow times.

  “Hey, you.”

  She turned at the sound of the familiar voice, an involuntary smile on her face. “I was just thinking about you.”

  “Oh, yeah? Does that mean I’m growing on you?” Leah asked with a smile.

  “I just got grilled by Nancy regarding our status,” she said quietly as she added tequila and Grand Marnier to the shaker. “Apparently, Mary Beth has decided that there’s nothing romantic going on between us.”

 

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