In a Jam

by Cindy Dorminy

  My spine stiffens. “I’m sure I don’t—”

  He holds up a hand to stop me. “I’m not blind, and I don’t care about what you do in your private life. All I’m saying is that maybe you can use your charm to keep her from selling. If I thought someone in town could afford to buy it, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

  “You want me to get... cozy with her for the sake of the town?” I can’t believe I’m able to spit out the words from my clenched jaw.

  The mayor and city manager nod as though it’s the greatest idea they’ve ever come up with. I’m not stupid. They want me to sleep with her to convince her to stay. I guess my man-whore reputation still hangs over me like the off-kilter awning over In A Jam’s front door.

  “If she wants to stay and run the shop, I’d be the first in line to welcome her. But if she decides to sell, I can’t stop her. It’s not my place.”

  The mayor crosses his arms.

  “The rumor about the developer. It’s true, isn’t it?”

  He cringes. “They’ve already approached Big Ash. Not sure about Stokes. If they get to Andie without her understanding the bigger picture, she could be easily persuaded.”

  The rest of the town council begins to filter into the room and take their seats for the meeting. “We’ll talk about this later. Think about it. Okay?”

  I nod because it’s the easiest way to end this conversation, but there is no easy way out of this situation. I want the town to survive and even thrive again like it did when I was a kid, but I don’t know how bad I want it. This community welcomed me back without question. Maybe I owe it to them. Maybe I owe it to myself.

  THE THREAT OF THUNDERSTORMS keeps me away from my typical brooding place, so getting drunk while watching the Atlanta Braves on television in my living room will have to do. After that town council meeting and running into Willow at every turn, I need to be left alone to stew. I know I’m an idiot, but I’ve avoided Andie ever since the fair. I didn’t even go to the gym after work this week because I didn’t want to see her. I kiss her like crazy then run away like some stupid middle school kid. I have to get this Willow situation settled before I go further down the road with Andie.

  I can’t believe she’s still in town, and worse, my brain still can’t get over what the mayor and city manager want me to do. As much as I want both things—to sleep with her and to save the town—I can’t do one for the sake of the other. I have some scruples left. And if she ever found out, she would never think I really had feelings for her.

  Every time Dansby Swanson gets a hit, I down another beer, and he’s on fire tonight. If he connects this time, I may not remember the rest of the game. Another rumble of thunder booms in the distance. Good thing the Braves are playing in Los Angeles tonight. Otherwise, they might have a big rain delay. The crack of Swanson’s bat sends the ball over the third baseman’s head, and I pop open another beer.

  A tap, tap, tap on my door jolts me out of my one-man tailgate party. “Who is it?” I yell, not moving from my supine position on the couch. Faith wouldn’t walk over from her house with a storm brewing, and her house is next door. If she needs something, she usually texts me.

  “It’s me,” Willow says from the other side of the front door.

  I’m going to need another six-pack.

  “Go away.”

  Thunder rumbles in the distance, so with a huge groan, I peel my body off the couch and force my feet to move toward the front door. When I open the door, instead of seeing her typical sassy grin, she has fear all over her face. She hates storms.

  “Can I come in?”

  Thunder claps a little closer this time. Willow covers her ears. Ever since her house was flattened by a tornado when we were in eighth grade, she has been terrified of even the smallest storm.

  I open the door wider and motion for her to enter. When I shut the door behind us, I lean against it, trying my best to figure out why she’s here.

  She inspects the living room, the pictures on the wall, and the tongue-and-groove paneling. “It’s real pretty.”

  “Thanks.”

  She points to the empty beer bottles on the coffee table. “Am I interrupting something?”

  I collapse onto the couch. “Watching the Braves. Chilling. Pondering the meaning of life, and oh yeah, wondering why the hell you decided to come back after all this time to torture me.”

  Unfazed by my snark, she picks up the only unopened bottle on the table. “Can I?”

  “Sure. I think I’ve had enough, anyway.”

  She holds the bottle out to me so I can open it for her. She never had the best grip strength. My fingers graze hers as she transfers the bottle from my hand to hers. With one quick rotation, I loosen the cap then slam it back down on the table.

  After one swig, she sighs and relaxes on the other end of the couch, too close for me, especially after five beers. “This tastes great. I forgot how a cold beer can taste going down.”

  “You can take the girl out of the country...”

  A smile forms on her lips. “Shut up.”

  “Did you come here because you wanted a beer, or what?”

  She picks up the bottle cap and fiddles with it. “I need to tell you something.”

  I stare at the television in hopes she’ll get the hint I’m not interested. Watching Swanson run the bases is far more interesting than her, anyway. “You could have saved yourself a trip and sent me a text. I know you have the number.”

  Thunder booms again, making Willow jump. “God, I hate that.”

  “Say what you need to say so you can get back on the road before all hell breaks loose out there.”

  She swallows. “I talked to Professor Gibson.”

  Bile rises up my throat. He ruined everything for me. “So? The damage is done.”

  “He said he would reconsider letting you finish the PhD program.”

  The Braves take the field, and I stare at the television while Jaime Garcia warms up on the pitching mound. “Can’t even if I wanted to. I have a job, and people depend on me.”

  She scoots closer, and I feel trapped with no more room to move on the sofa. I move to the recliner and pop the footrest up.

  “He said he would expunge your record of the plagiarism.”

  “Why?”

  “Because...”

  I pop the footrest down and bolt out of the recliner. “What are you up to?”

  “Nothing.” Her high-pitched voice screeches through the room. She places her bottle on the end table, stands, and takes my hands in hers. The lamplight flickers on and off. “I better go. We’ll finish this some other time.”

  I grab her arm to show her to the door.

  Her eyes graze over my chest and up to my eyes. “I miss you, Gunnar. I’d do anything to have you back. It could be like old times.”

  A flash of lightning and a sudden boom of thunder send Willow into my arms.

  “Hate storms.”

  “I know.”

  Her breaths are hot and fast on my neck, sending me scampering down memory lane, back to the days when we were inseparable, when I would do anything for her, even build a house.

  She kisses my neck, and my willpower, fueled by too many beers, starts to falter. She kisses my cheek and the tip of my mouth. I force a moan back down my throat. My hands find her hips, and she flings her arms around my neck. Her lips crash into mine, almost knocking me over. I pry her mouth off of mine.

  “Show me our bedroom,” she whispers.

  I flinch. Our bedroom. I built this house for us after I was kicked out of school. When I surprised her by showing her “our” bedroom upstairs, she broke up with me. I found out later that she had been seeing another student, a professor’s son.

  No matter how horny I am or how I wish I could turn back time, I’m not going there. Not. Going. There. I don’t want her anymore. I push her an arm’s distance away from me. Through flashes of light, I see shock running across her face.

  “That guy... the one y
ou were seeing when you broke off our engagement. Phillip. You’re still with Phillip, aren’t you?”

  “Gunnar, let me explain.”

  “And that’s Professor Gibson’s son.”

  The lights pop back on, making her blink. She crosses her arms over her chest. “Yes.”

  “And it’s only a fluke that you show up now and he will clear my name. What are you up to?”

  She turns her back to me and clears her throat. “He said he would clear your name, get you a job on the Northwestern police force while you finish your PhD. I think that’s very nice of him.”

  I snort out a hateful laugh. “So generous of him.”

  She snaps around. “We can be together again. And I know how much you wanted that PhD. You were so close. It wouldn’t take you any time to finish.”

  I pinch the bridge of my nose. She knows more than anyone what I wanted to do with my life, and she thinks when I came home, I was settling for a consolation prize. At times, it does feel that way.

  “What about him?”

  Her lip trembles.

  “Jeez, Willow. I’m not going down that road again.”

  “He needs your help.”

  There it is. She finally had the guts to say it. “My help? I don’t see how.”

  Willow stiffens her spine and cocks an eyebrow. “You don’t want your name cleared? All you’d have to do is alter the evidence against Phillip. He can’t have a DUI on his record.”

  I stumble backward, and even though I’ve had five beers, I am completely sober now. “A ‘you scratch my back, and I’ll scratch yours’ kind of deal?”

  Her face lights up with a huge grin as if we are on the same page. “Exactly. No one would ever know. And we could be together again... eventually.”

  “Ha. Eventually. No, thanks.”

  I walk away from her, but she grabs my arm. “I already told Phillip you’d do it. And his father will fix things on his end.”

  Hail beats down on the rooftop, almost sounding like a million shotguns going off at once. “I will not owe anyone anything. I don’t care who knows my past. You are the most selfish, conniving person I have ever known.” I point at the door. “You need to leave right now.”

  She gasps and shakes her head so fast, I think something is going to come loose. “I can’t drive in that mess.” She points to the window, which has hail bouncing on it, threatening to break the glass.

  Crap. I take a deep breath. Even I wouldn’t want to be driving out in this storm. I know she would have a panic attack to beat all others if she was out there. Through gritted teeth, I say, “Fine. You can sleep in my room.” I point down the hall to the main-level bedroom I use. “I’ll take the couch.”

  “But—”

  “And I swear, if you try anything... come tiptoeing in here wearing nothing but your underwear, anything, I will kick you out, no matter if there is an EF-3 tornado barreling down on us.”

  Her eyes are as big as saucers.

  “Are we clear?”

  She nods and backs toward the bedroom.

  “And Willow? We’re done. We’ve been done for years.”

  She closes the bedroom door behind her, and I feel like a large chapter in my life is finally closed too.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  Andie

  Gunnar hasn’t stopped by to visit for over a week. I thought he would stop by the night of the fair, but he said he had to take care of some things, and I didn’t want to pry. And then I hoped he would drop in last night to make sure I wasn’t scared during the storm, but he didn’t. It’s better this way... for him and for me. I think. Maybe. Ugh. I’ll stick to my original plans of doing my time and getting the heck out of this small town.

  But as I scan my sweet little coffee shop, it’s not so easy anymore to up and leave. I love everything about this store, from the creaky steps leading to my apartment upstairs, to the cranky cash register. It has grown on me, and I am having second thoughts about leaving.

  To torture myself, I read the Biddy’s Blog this morning. If the thought of Willow wearing Gunnar’s coat wasn’t enough, her staying over at his house was. I know what he’s been up to, and I don’t play that game. If he caves in at the first sight of his ex, then he’s not over her, and I’m not getting in the middle of all that drama. I can hardly blame him. She’s gorgeous with her model-perfect body, and she’s successful—everything I’m not.

  I’ve kept it from Liza and Mel that I’ve been talking with a developer who is interested in buying the building. I think I can get a fair price for the building, but I don’t want them to tell Gunnar about it. It’s not his business.

  Liza and Faith plop down on a barstool after Faith gives her customary squeeze-hug to Mrs. Cavanaugh.

  Liza gulps down the coffee and sighs. “This is not bad.”

  “I’m getting better, huh?”

  “Mrs. Cavanaugh made it, didn’t she?”

  I gasp. “No. Maybe.”

  Mrs. Cavanaugh chuckles.

  “Where’s Lily?” I ask.

  Faith’s face lights up. “Kevin’s off today, so I’ve been shooed out of the house. He wants Lily all to himself.”

  Liza stirs her cup of coffee and nibbles on a biscuit I made that turned out perfect. “It’s hard to believe my brother was afraid to hold her when she was first born.”

  I lean toward her. “Wait.” I point at Liza then at Faith. “You’re married to Liza’s brother?”

  “I better be. I mean, we’ve been having sex since—”

  Liza covers her ears with her hands. “Gawd, don’t talk like that about my brother. Ew.”

  With a confused expression on my face, I ask Liza, “So, if you are Kevin’s sister, and he’s married to Gunnar’s sister, what does that make you and Gunnar?”

  “Cousins,” Mrs. Cavanaugh replies.

  Faith high-fives Liza. “Probably so.”

  That is so cliché but funny. I love that they’re such a tight group. Some are related, and some aren’t, but they are all family.

  While they giggle over some crazy story about some guy that got sloppy drunk and peed off the Ferris wheel at the county fair, I check my phone for messages.

  Liza chews on the coffee stirrer. “Not to change the subject or anything, but have you seen the town’s hottest cop lately?”

  I give her the stink eye and glance over at Mrs. Cavanaugh, who busies herself with some bread dough. She probably knew on day one, but we haven’t talked about it.

  “No. Should I?”

  Mrs. Cavanaugh sighs. “Child, you should jump his bones the first chance you get. He’s mighty fine.”

  Liza Jane spits out her coffee. Faith cringes.

  Mrs. Cavanaugh eyeballs us as if we’re two of the dumbest people on the planet. “Well, he is, and you know it. All this sexual tension in the air every time he walks in the door even stirs my old girly parts.”

  Liza Jane rests her head on the counter, and her whole body trembles. I try to stifle a grin, but that’s too funny.

  Faith gasps. “Mrs. C., that’s my brother you’re talking about.”

  The bell chimes, and there’s a chill in the air. Mrs. Cavanaugh stops smiling and growls. Whoa. I turn to see Willow and Jolene standing behind Liza Jane. Willow crosses her arms and clears her throat. Happy Liza turns to see who it is, and she instantly changes to bitchy and ice cold.

  Liza snarls. “What do you want?”

  Faith chews on her bottom lip. Okay, I can safely say there is some history here, and I’m not sure I want to know about it.

  Willow’s high heels click on the tile floor as she approaches the counter. “Nice to see you too, Sliza.”

  Liza’s gaze lands first on Willow then on Mrs. Cavanaugh. “Well, well, well. If it isn’t the black Willow spider.”

  Jolene stays silently behind Willow, as if she’s her shadow.

  Willow rolls her crystal-blue eyes and drops her designer purse on the counter but not before she snatches ten napkins out of the dispenser
and places them down as a barrier. I don’t mind when a customer uses them, but using them to protect her precious bag is not cool.

  Willow holds out a jeweled hand in front of Faith’s face toward me. “I’m Willow, and I think you may have already met my sister, Jolene.”

  “Stepsister,” Faith says to clarify.

  I take her hand and am not sure if she intends on scratching me with those claws of hers or what. “I’m Andie. Nice to finally meet you.”

  Not really, but I pull out my best manners and try not to squeeze her hand too much.

  “I heard about you.” She gives me the quickest smirk. If I had blinked, I would have missed it.

  I wipe the counter down for lack of anything better to do. “And I’ve heard lots about you.”

  Liza snickers, making Willow glare at her.

  “Can I get you anything?” Nice change of conversation. Point one for me. She wants to reel me in and fight over Gunnar, but I’m not going to bite. She can have him.

  “Hmm.” She taps her bottom lip with her manicured nail.

  I curl my fingers into the dish towel to hide my chipped nail polish. It has been forever since I’ve cared about splurging on something like that.

  “I’d like an iced caramel macchiato, please. Grande because I don’t need too many calories.”

  Liza Jane snorts. “Yeah, Andie. Hop to it. Iced car-mel blah blah whatever else she said. And make it a grrrrande.”

  “I’m sorry. All I have is coffee. Regular coffee.” I slide the bowl of individual creamers toward her. “But we have three varieties of creamer.” I hold up a finger. “And we have tea if you’d rather have that.”

  “Chai tea?”

  Faith smacks her hand on the counter, making Jolene jump. “This isn’t Starbucks, Willow. Regular coffee or regular tea.”

  Willow lets out an exasperated sigh.

  “Sweet tea?” I ask.

  “Fine. Give me a glass of... sweet tea.” Those two words sounded like venom coming out of her mouth.