Bountiful

by Sarina Bowen

  “Sure—if you’re a guy.” She tipped her head back onto my shoulder and looked up at me. “The girls are supposed to keep their legs pressed together. But I didn’t. My brothers would punch anyone they caught talking smack about me, but I didn’t do myself any favors.”

  “You know what, though? You probably terrified those boys. I’ll bet you were a knockout in high school. They were probably all praying you’d notice them and devastated when you shot them down. Including Mr. Nightstick, there.” I pointed toward the road where the cop had come and gone.

  “I gave him a hand job once under the bleachers during a homecoming game.” She delivered this confession while looking me straight in the eye, daring me to judge her.

  It made me roar with laughter, instead. Then I kissed her. “He’s probably still dreaming about it.”

  Zara sighed. “Is it okay if we leave now? It’s late. I should get some sleep.”

  “Sure,” I said, disappointed.

  Chapter Seven

  Zara

  I knew I shouldn’t have let it bother me. The arrival of Officer Brown—or Butchie Brown as we used to call him—was neither surprising nor consequential.

  But it just reinforced my bigger problem. Dave was leaving, and I wasn’t going anywhere. Tomorrow he’d go back to his rich-guy pad—wherever that was—and I’d still be the bad girl who hadn’t quite figured out what to do with her life.

  And now I’d done it again. I’d gotten spun up about a guy I couldn’t have. He was leaving, and I would miss him so freaking much. And it made me so mad at myself that I couldn’t even enjoy my last hour with him.

  Would I ever learn?

  Signs point to no, as my Magic 8 Ball used to say.

  We drove back in silence, my poor attitude filling the interior of his rental truck. When we pulled into the lot behind the Goat, he cut the engine. The only sound after the engine died was the low, lonely grunt of a single bullfrog. And I smiled in spite of myself, remembering Dave’s disbelief when I told him what peeper frogs sounded like.

  And—damn it—the sound of frogs on a summer night would probably make me think of him for the next several years.

  Time to cut him loose.

  I put my hand on the door. “It’s been fun. And I know you didn’t really get what you, uh, came for this time, but I think it’s better if we just call it a night.”

  He reached across the gear box and caught my hand before I could make my escape. “Not so fast, prickly girl.” His thumb massaged the palm of my hand. Since our first night together he’d become more sensuous than rough.

  Don’t get me wrong—he was still hot and bossy in all the best ways. But he liked to linger over me now. And I should have enjoyed it, but instead I felt like Dorothy when she’d been locked up with the giant hourglass, counting down the minutes until her bitter end.

  Emphasis on bitter. “I don’t know what you want me to say,” I admitted.

  “You don’t have to say a damn thing,” he rumbled. “Just kiss me goodnight at your door.”

  Getting out of the car, I assumed he’d try to talk his way inside. But I was only half right. Instead of talking, he put his hands on either side of the door, then leaned in to kiss me senseless. It wasn’t long before I whimpered into his mouth, because I have no self-control. And he took the keys right out of my hand and opened the door, following me upstairs with my hair curled around one of his big hands, because he knew that made me hot.

  For a pleasant hour, I didn’t even bother trying to pretend I wanted him to leave. I let his big body have everything it asked for—my skin, my mouth, every sound of my pleasure.

  My very soul.

  At last we fell, sated, onto the mattress. He curled an arm over me and held on tightly. I hated how good it felt and how badly I wanted to curl in closer. I counted out a minute, and then two. I was exhausted from the stress of his imminent departure, and I needed him to leave me alone to process it.

  But I didn’t want to be a jerk about it. I’d give it five minutes and then kiss him goodbye for the last time.

  And that would have happened, except, for once, I fell asleep.

  Since I wasn’t used to having anyone in my bed, I opened my eyes when my digital clock said 3:07.

  Fuck.

  I had one leg thrown over Dave’s, and we were holding hands in our sleep. The peaceful sound of sleepy breathing came from his side of the bed.

  Closing my eyes again, I let him be. Only a total bitch kicks a sleeping man out of her bed at three in the morning.

  Yet I’d been difficult all summer. “Prickly as a porcupine,” he’d said once with a big smile. He’d just seen his first porcupine that day. “In a tree!” he’d told me. “I didn’t know you guys climbed trees.”

  It wasn’t a bad analogy. Like a porcupine’s, my prickliness was there for self-preservation.

  “You sure make me work for it,” he’d also said more than once.

  “Your other dates don’t? They should.”

  He’d given his head a shake. “I don’t date. Not cut out for relationships. Hanging out with you is the closest I ever got.”

  “Because there’s an expiration date,” I’d pointed out. “You don’t have to look for the exits because you already have one foot out the door.”

  He’d snorted. “Are we going to psychoanalyze each other now? If so, I’d like to know why a country girl is afraid of spiders.”

  “It was just the one! I walked face-first into the fucking web!”

  “Dave!” he’d mock-screamed. “Is it in my hair?”

  “Yeah? I’ll put one in your bed, and then we’ll see how funny it is.”

  He’d only laughed and then kissed me.

  Sometimes, during our longer conversations, I’d forgotten to keep my guard up, and I’d caught myself smiling back at him. It was easy enough to fall headlong into his green eyes, and laugh at his jokes. “A giggle!” he’d said once. “Alert the media. Zara giggled like a schoolgirl.”

  “I don’t giggle. You must have imagined it,” I’d said, staying in character.

  “Uh-huh,” he’d said, and then tickled me. Nobody had tickled me in a decade.

  So here I was smiling into the dark at three o’clock in the fucking morning, feeling nostalgic over a hookup.

  What a dumbass I was.

  It wasn’t easy to go back to sleep. Because I’d gone and done exactly what I shouldn’t have done—I’d gotten hung up on Dave, the ginger hottie.

  I must have drifted off. Because there was light seeping into my windows when I became conscious of Dave kissing me on the neck. “It’s morning,” he whispered. “I’m going now.”

  I closed my eyes and kept them shut tight.

  “What a summer it’s been,” he whispered, landing a kiss on the underside of my jaw. “Hands down you’re my favorite person in Vermont.” Another kiss.

  It wasn’t easy to feign sleep; I hadn’t tried it since high school when I’d had to share a room with my twin brother for a time.

  But I persevered, not giving Dave an inch. I hated goodbyes.

  “All right.” He chuckled softly. “If that’s how you want to play it. Goodbye, beautiful.”

  He fit his lips to the back of my neck and gave me a soft, slow kiss.

  And then—finally—he left.

  I waited, listening. His footsteps were achingly slow as he walked down my staircase. My heart was in my mouth at the sound of the door opening and shutting behind him. The sound of his rental starting up gave me a shiver.

  If I sat up and opened the window right over my head and waved, he would see me and stop. God, I wanted him to stop and kiss me goodbye.

  Wait! I wanted to yell. Don’t go.

  Fuck.

  My heart thudded with unhappiness, but I didn’t move. He wasn’t going to stay in Vermont, even if I humiliated myself. He had a life somewhere else. And he hadn’t asked for my number.

  I don’t date, he’d said.

  It was the same thi
ng Griff had said right before he and Audrey became a couple.

  The truth was that men didn’t date people like me. I was the girl they “hung out with,” as Dave had put it last night. The bartender was a good time and fun in bed, but not a forever girl.

  My heart hammered as Dave’s truck backed up slowly. I heard the sound of his wheels pivoting in the dirt and the purr of the engine as he stepped on the gas.

  Maybe sixty seconds later, he’d driven far enough away that I didn’t hear the engine at all.

  I lay there in my bed for a long time after that, the sheets smelling like his aftershave. Maybe another girl would have cried, but that wasn’t my style. Sadness didn’t come leaking from my eyes. It settled into my heart instead, like a weight.

  An hour later I struggled upright, hoping to shake off my blues. But the first thing I saw was Dave’s shiny watch on the bedside table where he’d accidentally left it. I crawled over and looked closely enough at it that I could hear it ticking.

  Well, hell. I couldn’t keep it. It was too pricey to be a guiltless souvenir. Instead, it would become something to add to my to-do list—find Dave from Brooklyn and FedEx his watch.

  What I didn’t know that August morning was that finding him would prove impossible.

  I also didn’t know that six weeks after I started searching, I’d realize that Dave had left something far more valuable than a luxury watch behind in Vermont.

  And he wouldn’t be back for either one.

  Part Two

  July 2017

  Chapter Eight

  Two Years Later

  Zara

  “I really should head home,” I said for the third or fourth time.

  But it was so pleasant here on the Shipleys’ front porch, in a rocking chair, with my daughter in my arms. We’d just eaten a big meal. The Shipleys usually threw a dinner party on Thursdays at their farmhouse. As Audrey’s business partner and a friend of the family, I had a standing invitation, along with my daughter, Nicole. And we rarely missed a Thursday Dinner.

  I should be inside washing dishes with Zach and Lark. But, as always, Nicole was a sleepy weight in my lap, and so the Shipley clan gave me a free pass on cleanup.

  It was a pretty summer night in July, and the sweet weather made me wistful. I’d always loved Vermont summers, but July was the month when I’d met Nicole’s father. Two years had gone by, but it felt like just yesterday.

  On the porch swing beside me, Audrey stretched her arms overhead. “That second piece of pie might have been a mistake.”

  “Don’t feel well?” Griffin reached over and palmed her stomach, giving it a gentle rub.

  “I’m fine,” she said quickly. “But I have my final fitting tomorrow. If the seamstress has to alter the dress again, she’ll scold me.”

  “You’re paying for her trouble, though,” I pointed out.

  “An excellent point,” Griff agreed.

  I gave Audrey a once-over. She’d let slip that she’d gained a few pounds, and I thought I knew why. When can we all just acknowledge that you’re pregnant? But I held my tongue, because I knew firsthand what it was like to face too many questions. And Audrey would tell me when she was ready.

  “Do you want company tomorrow?” I asked instead. “We’d have to leave Kieran alone at the counter, though.” Griff’s cousin was our part-time employee. He was a hard worker, but not super friendly to customers.

  “That’s never a great idea. Do you want me to pick up your dress while I’m at the shop?”

  “Nope. I picked it up on Monday. It’s hanging in the closet, ready to go.” Audrey had chosen simple sheath dresses for her bridesmaids, which I appreciated. The fabric was cotton with an apple-blossom print. When she’d first shown the design to me I’d said, “Cutest bridesmaid’s dress ever,” and meant it.

  Then she’d floored me by asking me to wear one.

  Saying yes had been a no-brainer. A lot had happened in the two years since she’d rolled into town. When we’d first met, I’d really wanted to hate Audrey. I’d had some unresolved anger at Griffin for rejecting me. It had stung and had led to some self-destructive behavior on my part.

  But several things happened to change my attitude. First, Audrey had won me over with her sunny attitude and big ideas. We were business partners now, as well as friends.

  Second, I’d stopped being hung up on Griffin and transferred my obsessions to someone equally unavailable, with predictable results. That man was long gone. But his fifteen-month-old daughter was now the light of my life.

  So, two weeks from now, I would happily stand in front of a row of apple trees at Shipley Orchards, bearing witness to the marriage of my ex-hookup and my best friend. We lived in a small town. There would be people in the audience who would find it titillating. Remember when Griff was banging Zara? Before she got knocked up by a mystery man?

  But I’d hold my head up high. The past two years had shown me that the difference between dignity and disgrace was more than just an extra syllable. It was my attitude that mattered. Nobody could make me feel inferior without my permission. I’d made my peace with single motherhood, and it didn’t matter what anyone said behind my back.

  On the lawn in front of us, Griffin’s younger siblings Dylan and Daphne were throwing the Frisbee around and somehow turning the game into a death match. The sky began to deepen. I needed to get the baby to bed. I’d lingered long enough.

  “I need to go home,” I said once more, but this time with more conviction. “Anything you need to know for tomorrow morning?”

  “Hmm.” Audrey shook out her golden hair. “Do we still have currants?”

  “There’s one more batch. I dried them this morning.”

  “Groovy. Currant scones tomorrow and blueberry muffins.”

  “Sounds good. See you around ten thirty? Then you can head for the dress shop.”

  “Roger, Roger.” Audrey turned in her chair to look at us, and her face went soft. “Aw. She’s really conked out now.”

  Even though I couldn’t see Nicole’s face, I knew she was asleep. Her body was limp against mine, trusting me to hold her while she rested. “That’s my cue, then.” I slid my butt forward on the rocker’s seat, hoping to stand up without jostling her.

  “Can I take her for you?” Griff asked, getting up from the porch swing and leaning over us.

  “You can try,” I said. “If she wakes up and cries, I won’t hold it against you. Much.”

  He grinned. Then he scooped my sleeping daughter into his big hands. I stood, expecting him to hand her back. But instead, he tucked her against his chest, walked slowly down the porch steps, and then toward the driveway where my car waited.

  “Aw,” Audrey sighed, watching him.

  “Cute, right?” There was a pregnant pause while Audrey seemed to glow with maternal expectation. I hoped she wasn’t set on keeping her pregnancy a secret. It was so freaking obvious. “Night, toots,” I said to her.

  “Night!” Her eyes were on her man. Someday (very soon) Griffin would make a great daddy. I could say that now without feeling jealous of Audrey. When I looked at him, I didn’t see a man I’d once wanted for myself. I saw Audrey’s other half.

  I hustled to overtake Griffin and opened the back seat of my car, where the baby seat waited. I yanked the straps out of the way and stood back. “Let’s see if you can stick the dismount.”

  Chuckling, Griffin leaned down to try his best. Nicole’s thatch of red hair was a shock against his black T-shirt. The bright shade of her hair—like a new penny—was both a blessing and a curse.

  On the one hand, her red hair meant there weren’t any rumors around town about the possibility of Griffin fathering my child. A glance between the two of them pretty much guaranteed that they didn’t share a gene pool. On the other hand, that distinctive hair color meant that I thought of her daddy every time I spotted her sweet little head.

  It also meant that every ginger who came into my brother’s bar got the side-eye.
<
br />   I hadn’t been very forthcoming with anyone, including my family. Griffin and Audrey never pestered me for details about Nicole’s origins, but my brothers and uncles weren’t as easygoing.

  “Hey, I did it,” Griffin whispered as he eased his big body out of the way.

  Lying in her car seat, Nicole shifted in her sleep. She let out a whimper but her eyes remained closed.

  “Not bad,” I whispered back. “The Russian judge took a couple points off, though.”

  Griff rolled his eyes, then he gave me a quick, one-armed hug and said goodnight.

  I buckled both Nicole and myself into the car, then started home.

  * * *

  Several hours later I was still awake, listening to the gurgle of the river through the open window and the muted voices of bar patrons heading to their cars.

  Although it had been more than a year since I’d stopped tending bar, my body refused to give up its night-owl ways. Maybe it was because I still lived over a bar—not The Mountain Goat, but a bar nonetheless.

  There were only five hours left until my toddler-sized alarm clock would wake me up. I should really close my laptop and go to sleep. But many miles from here, my brother Benito was still up, too. The green dot next to his name on my messaging app was lit up.

  I liked to think it was a twin thing—we were always awake when the other one needed someone to talk to. But it was also possible that we were both just lousy sleepers.

  Either way, he was awake somewhere in New York state, where he’d been working on a case with other federal drug-enforcement agents. He’d told me he was coming back to Vermont within days, though. And I was eager to see him.

  Zara: Hey. You’re up! Everything ok?

  Benito: Sure thing. Just have a lot to plan before I come back to town. You?

  Zara: I can’t sleep. I’m making a list of all the things Audrey and I have to do before her wedding. And I’ve been thinking about you, too! I’m going to try to rent an apartment and get out of your place.