Pitchfork in the Road

by M. J. Schiller

  Zoe made sure the school’s door locked behind us as we left the building. I lifted my eyebrows. “I can’t believe you actually do science experiments in kindergarten.”

  Zoe rolled her eyes. “Yeah. My students aren’t all crayon-eaters, like you were.”

  “One time,” I protested. “In my defense, they shouldn’t make writing implements that look so much like a Tootsie Roll.”

  “Whatever.” The eyes rolled, then Zoe spun around, took two steps, and stopped abruptly. “That’s your car?”

  It was hardly a real question. The only two vehicles in the parking lot were mine and hers. Apparently, the other teachers weren’t as dedicated as my Zoe. I moved around her.

  As I got within three feet of it, the rearview mirrors extended electronically. I loved this feature. It was like the car woke up.

  “Whoa.” Apparently Zoe liked it, too.

  I opened her door for her.

  “Dude. You didn’t lock it? In this neighborhood?”

  Hell, I wouldn’t leave it unlocked in the Vatican. “It has keyless entry. It sensed the key in my pocket and unlocked because I lifted the handle.”

  “Oh.” She came around and slid reverently into her seat. “This is a Jaguar. Did you know this is a Jaguar?”

  I snorted. “Uhh, yeah. The dealership sort of pointed that out.”

  “I’ve always wanted a Jaguar,” she breathed, her eyes glowing.

  I know. I tried not to smirk.

  She stroked the dash but stopped to turn to me. “You own this?”

  I shrugged, but I couldn’t keep the smile off my face. “Yup.”

  “I thought you’d have the red one. From last night.” Her eyes were round as she studied the instrument panel.

  I waved that off. “No. That was my Saturday car. This is my Sunday car.”

  Before she could respond, I closed the door, chuckling as I made my way around to the driver’s side. “This is perfect,” I couldn’t help but whisper. I took a deep breath to restore my calm and sense of coolness, then opened my door.

  “You mean, you own a car for every day of the week?” she blurted out before I was even fully behind the wheel.

  I laughed. “No.” I put a hand on her knee. “I’m teasing.” I pushed the start button and my baby roared to life. I let her absorb that as I backed out. Braking, and switching gears, I leaned toward her. “I only have four.”

  She was still under the car’s spell when we pulled into the lot of the Irish pub she chose to eat at.

  “How can you afford a Jag? And the others?” She stretched her leg out of the car. Her metallic blue dress—which was, coincidentally, the exact shade of my Jaguar—rode up and I almost lost track of the conversation.

  “I told you. I did well on some investments. Very well.” I didn’t need to tell her I had a friend in a certain Fortune 500 company who gave me information about a merger with an even larger Fortune 500 company that influenced my decision to purchase their stock. The less people who knew about that, the better.

  I reached around to open the door, entering behind her.

  “Zoe. How are ya, babe?” Some guy squeezed her bicep as he passed, giving her a very obvious once-over. I stood straighter.

  At the sound of her name, the bartender glanced over and called out. “Hey stranger. Where ya been?”

  I leaned down to whisper in her ear. “Been here much?”

  She ignored me. “Hey, Jake. Mind if we take a booth?”

  He gestured with an elbow and his head, his hands occupied under the bar, probably washing glassware, from the looks of it. “Help yourself. I’ll send Matt over in a minute.”

  Matt was the jerk who fondled her at the door. “Hey, beautiful.” He bent to give her a kiss on the cheek, but I’d put money he wanted to kiss more than that. He was clearly flirting. “We’ve missed you.”

  Hey, Mack. Right here.

  As if he could hear my thoughts, the waiter turned to me. “Who’s your friend?” His smile dimmed, and his tone seemed a bit…snippy.

  “Oh. Nick Adams, meet Matt.”

  I stuck my hand out, and he shook it aggressively. I returned the favor.

  “Did you two just meet?”

  I jumped in before Zoe. “No. We’ve known each other forever.” So get lost.

  “That’s nice,” he said in a tone that belied the words. He eyed me for another couple of seconds until things became uncomfortable. He shifted, moving closer to Zoe and practically placing his back to me. “Can I get you started off with a drink?” Now he was finished inspecting me, he acted like I was invisible.

  “Just water to start with. But I’m starved. Do you think you could put in an order of—”

  “Shepherd’s Pie,” he finished for her. “Of course.” He turned slowly on his heel. “And you?” Staring at me evenly he tapped his pencil on his order tablet as if he had better things to do than take my order. In fact, he lifted his gaze to peer over my head at the bar area.

  “Is the Shepherd’s Pie good?”

  I asked Zoe, but he answered. “Best in Denver.” He glared at me like he himself made the dish and I accused it of being gruel.

  I met his hard look, my jaw tight, and waited several seconds before answering. “I’ll give it a try.” I acted like I had my doubts over whether it was as good as he claimed. He snatched the menu out of my hand so quickly it about left burn marks.

  “I’ll have that right up, Zoe.” He moved off.

  Zoe followed the waiter with her eyes. “Is it me, or did Matt kind of act strange?”

  “Matt kind of acted like a dick.”

  She shifted her gaze to me, studying me before saying, “Do you think so? I didn’t think he was that bad.”

  I huffed, but a band began playing some Irish music, garnering our attention and making it hard to converse. The music was fun and upbeat, though, and Zoe either clapped along or slapped her hand on the table to the beat.

  Forty-five minutes later, Matt the Brat stopped by our table again and swung his tray down. I expected it to be a dessert display, but two mini-glasses of an amber-colored liquid stood on the tray like soldiers at attention. Ironically, after ingesting a few of these soldiers, one would probably have a hard time even sitting upright without support of some type, let alone standing at attention.

  I lifted my gaze to Zoe’s. “What is this?”

  She reached up to whip the two glasses off the tray, setting one in front of me on the scarred pub table, and raising her own.

  “Man. A guy goes to the bathroom, and this happens?”

  Matt picked up our empty plates. “I see you liked the Shepherd’s Pie.” He raised an accusatory eyebrow.

  “I was hungry,” I deflected. It was, in fact, some of the best Shepherd’s Pie I’d ever eaten, but I wasn’t telling Romeo that. He made a kind of humming noise in his throat, then turned to Zoe. “Anything else, hon?”

  “Not right now. Thanks, Matt.”

  He left, and I looked at Zoe pointedly.

  “Yeah. You should never leave me alone in an establishment that serves alcohol or I might...order…some shots.”

  I raised my glass. “Duly noted.” Cocking my head, I asked, “You sure you’re ready to go again?”

  Instead of answering, she threw her shot back, then tapped the glass down. It wobbled a few times and came to rest. She smiled at me expectantly. I smelled the liquor shining deceptively like a jewel in my short glass. It made my sinus passages burn. “Ooh, man. What form of liquid fire is this?”

  She drummed her fingers on the table. “Jameson’s. Drink up.”

  “Irish whiskey?”

  She nodded, nudging my hand toward my mouth.

  “Hold on. Hold on,” I chastised. “I want to make a toast.” I paused to think it through. “I was impressed by all your students’ work this evening, so…here’s to the best damn kindergarten teacher this side of the Mississippi.”

  She frowned. “You mean someone better is on the other side?”
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br />   “The best damn kindergarten teacher in the world,” I amended.

  The corners of her lips lifted. “Better.”

  With a grimace, I tipped the glass and let the heat slide along my tongue and gallop on down to my gullet. I gave my head a shake and let out a breath. “Whoo!”

  She giggled, leaning back and stretching her arms along the top of the booth we shared.

  “Since when do you drink Irish whiskey?”

  She looked up over my shoulder, nodded at someone, and drew a circle in the air. I twisted and caught Matt giving her a thumbs up. His smile turned to a snarl when our gazes connected.

  Zoe’s voice refocused my attention. “Killian taught me.”

  “Killian Murphey?” He was a bartender and friend of Zoe’s family back in Lincoln. That would mean she’d been back home. And none of the people who’d promised me they’d keep their eye out for her called me.

  She smiled. “The one and only. He and Jo came to visit me a couple of times.”

  “Ahh.” No home visit then. That explained it.

  Her grin slithered wider. “Know what else he taught me?” She slid out of the booth and took my hands to lead me out, too.

  “What?”

  She leaned away from me and walked backwards, pulling me with her. I peered over her shoulder. Couples had taken to the dance floor as the band belted out some song about being sick of growing potatoes and moving to New York. I yanked out of her grasp and headed back to the table. “Oh, no.”

  She grabbed my elbow. “Come on. It’s fun.”

  “Zoe, I…. I….” My thoughts scattered as she maneuvered me out onto the middle of the dance floor. “I don’t know how to do this.”

  “It’s easy.” Her feet were already going, tapping forward, shuffling, crossing, and tapping behind. “Just…hop along to the music. It doesn’t matter if you’re doing it right. Most of the people in here are drunk anyway.” The stage lights made her skin glow, like she was some kind of magical fairy, and her smile completely disarmed me.

  More people were crowding onto the floor. Throughout the evening the flow of patrons in the door had been becoming steadier, and now some weren’t even bothering to find a seat before hitting the dance floor. Someone jostled me.

  “Sorry.” I realized I should be moving.

  I watched them dance, trying to pick up on the steps, the rhythm of it.

  “Come on, Nickie.” Zoe spun us around in a tight circle. “Just pick your feet up a bit.”

  “Shit.” She made it sound so easy.

  But as I watched the flurry of her feet, I figured, if she could do it in the high heels she wore, I guess I could try it in my Cole Haan’s. I made a feeble attempt.

  “That’s it.”

  “I’m not doing it like you,” I grumbled.

  She tapped, moving away and leaving me on my own. Making a wide circle, she returned to me. We were on the edge of the floor now, giving way to each experienced couple as they came on.

  “Here. This’ll help,” Matt said disdainfully. He stood next to us with our shots. We simultaneously drank them, and I coughed. My voice was hoarse when I talked.

  “That was worse than the first time.” But after a bit, I realized our idiot waiter was right. My arms and legs loosened up, then finally seemed to find the timing of the music and follow along.

  “You’re doing it, Nickie.” She beamed at me, and I wanted to kiss her right there, and might well have if someone hadn’t begun some sort of reel and swooped her away. As I watched her disappear a lady in a green dress stuck her arm through mine and spun me before dancing off again. Before I could get my bearings, some big, bearded dude—who looked like a hipster lumberjack—hooked my elbow, too, whirling me like a dervish. Two partners later I was back to my Zoe. She laughed, her cheeks pink with exertion, and I didn’t think she’d ever been prettier. I took both of her hands in mine and we stopped. People whirled around all about us. She stared at me, no longer laughing, but breathing heavily with upturned lips. She stepped closer as a final, searing note blazed across the violin strings and the music came to an end. People filed past us, returning to their seats. She glanced at a couple walking toward us and dropped my hands. The spell was broken.

  We waded slowly back to our booth and when we got there, I snagged her hand again before she sat. “Do you want to go someplace where we can talk easier?” I yelled over the ever-increasing volume of the crowd.

  She lifted her face. “Yeah. Let’s go back to my place.”

  It was what I hoped she would say.

  I picked the black plastic folder up from the table and Zoe made a play for it.

  “It’s my turn to pay.”

  I frowned, working the pen out and scrawling my signature before sliding my card out of its pocket. “I already got it.” She wasn’t the only one with a secret mission during my trip to the bathroom.

  “But—”

  I bent closer to her so she could hear me. “You don’t make shit as a teacher. This will be my small contribution to aiding in the education of your students.”

  “By getting their teacher drunk?”

  I took her elbow and began to weave my way toward the door. “It’s a new educational theorem.”

  “Yeah, sure it is.” She smiled. “Thanks.” She gave my hand a squeeze and my heart swelled.

  “Come on.” I led her to the door, cool air, and freedom.

  Chapter 7

  Zoe

  My feet hurt so bad I wanted to cry. My condo was only five city blocks away from the Irish Snug.

  Who knew city blocks could be so long?

  It turned out there were several reasons why those shots were wrong. The primary one, at the moment, being it forced us to walk…sort of. We couldn’t drive, but we had options besides walking.

  “I’m calling.”

  I slapped at his hands, almost making him bobble his phone. “No, you’re not. It’s right there.”

  Nick had threatened to call an Uber ever since I took my shoes off. And that would be the wise thing to do. But no one had ever called me wise.

  “It’s been ‘right there’ for fifteen minutes.” He was right. I could see my condo building, but I felt like we were walking the wrong way on one of those moving sidewalks. We kept walking, but we didn’t seem to get any closer. “At least let me give you a piggy back ride.”

  “No.”

  He stopped, planting his hands on his hips. “Anyone ever tell you you’re hella stubborn?”

  “You. About six hundred blocks ago.” We laughed. I was hella stubborn and I wouldn’t let Mr. Moneybags solve all my problems with the wave of his magic wallet. We trudged on as I continued my internal debate—with shoes, or without. With shoes, the balls of my feet and ankles hurt. Without, it was like I was walking on glass. Blocks and blocks of glass. Denver needed to do something about the smoothness of its sidewalks.

  With a whoosh, I was suddenly relieved of my need to debate. Nick had stopped, then came up from behind me, and now I was in his arms. To keep him from dropping me, and maybe in hopes it would distribute the weight better, I locked my arms around his neck.

  My short scream of surprise might have alarmed the couple walking toward us if I were doing anything but laughing.

  “Look, I’m not exactly opposed to sweeping you off your feet, but my back could take the weight a lot easier than my arms.”

  “Or, you know, you always have that other option. You put me down and I walk, like a normal person.”

  “And watch you wince for another—” he squinted up the street “—six hundred blocks or so? No way.” He smiled. We were having fun. It seemed we were always having fun. He was one of the only people I knew who could match me smart ass for smart ass…except my Aunt Sam and Uncle Kyle. They could give him a run for his money.

  He glanced at the building we were crossing in front of and I caught our reflection. It was cute. “This is like the fifth pub we’ve passed. You couldn’t choose one closer?”

/>   “I thought we’d be driving.” Before he could mention the fact that I ordered the shots, I hurriedly added, “And besides, they have the best—”

  “Shepherd’s Pie,” we said at the same time.

  “I know. I know. Mattie told me all about it.” He said his name mockingly. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he was jealous. But he couldn’t be jealous, because we weren’t even going out. The accompanying roll of the eye was simply overkill. He shifted me in his arms. They had to be straining by now.

  “How about you put me down.”

  “Only if you agree to get on my back.”

  I crossed my fingers behind his neck. “Sure.”

  He gave me a sidelong look. “You mean it?”

  I nodded. “I promise.” He set me on my feet. I gestured. “Well, turn around so I can get on.” He spun to face the other direction and crouched, and I took off running.

  “Zoe Marie!” he roared, and I knew it was a matter of time. On a normal day, I might get pretty far before he caught me, but my aching feet didn’t have it in them. I’d only gotten past a half-dozen stores before his club-like arms wrapped around me and he lifted me off my feet, swinging me around. “You are a naughty girl,” he said in my ear, sending an odd shiver down my spine.

  I squealed when he grabbed me and fought, but now I was laughing too hard to struggle.

  “You had your fingers crossed, didn’t you?”

  “Maybe.”

  “You did, you little brat.”

  “I can’t get on your back in this dress. It’s too tight. It would ride up.”

  “What?” he taunted. “Afraid people might spy your undies?”

  I hesitated. What I was about to say was extremely inappropriate. My stomach fluttered, and I said it anyway. “Who said I’m wearing undies?”

  “Ooh.”

  Again, his voice in my ear made my pulse react. Being without a guy made your body pretty pathetic.

  He released one hand, but held me fast with the other as he called the Uber. He didn’t let me go until we were in the back seat of someone’s Honda.

  “Did you mean to put in that address?” the driver asked. “I mean…you know it’s right down there, right?”