Summer on Main Street

by Crista McHugh

“What?”

  “You want to read that book! That’s what you’re upset about. You want to read the goddamn how-to-win-at-doubles-and-make-Brooks-crazy book.”

  “No. No. I mean, it’s not like I wanted to read it tonight. I might have wanted to browse through it though. I’m a little curious about what I might be able to learn.”

  “You’re as competitive as Vance!”

  Lolly shrugged and looked out her window, mumbling, “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

  Brooks growled as he turned away from town and took the country road heading to the lake. “You know. It’s all coming back to me now,” he said, glancing in her direction with lifted brows. “Darcy would come home and be furious with you for not picking her for some team. She couldn’t understand why her best friend would leave her standing there to be the last one chosen.”

  “Oh stop! Your sister is brilliant in many things, but motor skills isn’t one of them. She was terrible at sports and as captain, it was my duty to put together the strongest team I could.”

  “In middle school? You,” he accused, “are a female Vance!”

  “I am not!” Lolly was horrified.

  “Are too.”

  “You’re crazy.”

  “Crazy is thinking you can keep up with a guy who has run every day of his life for the last five years! Why the hell would you even attempt to do that if you, too, weren’t ultra-competitive? That’s why you’re in pain. That’s why you became temporarily insane. You just had to prove that you could do it. Whatever he said, all week long, you just went right along with it even though it practically killed you. Because there was no way you would back down. No way you would give in, even though your body was screaming for you to stop. You pushed yourself further than you could actually go. You are that competitive.”

  “Okay. So maybe I am a little competitive. But have you forgotten that it was you who registered me for that first softball team?”

  “Somebody had to help you channel all that combative aggression.”

  “You know what? That’s probably one of the reasons you asked me out. I understand competition. Just like you, oh Great Boy Wonder at Center Mound. Don’t tell me you aren’t extremely competitive.”

  “I am competitive. But with compassion. With a little common sense. It’s not all about winning. It’s about participation and enjoyment and pleasure and—”

  “Right. Which is why Vance is head coach and you’re just an assistant.”

  “—good sportsmanship. I cannot believe you just said that!”

  “If the shoe fits.”

  “Oh My God, you really are the female Vance,” he said under his breath as he turned and headed up the steep climb.

  “I am not the female Vance!”

  “You so are.”

  “Am not!”

  “The running shoe fits!”

  Lolly whipped her whole body around to face him. “If I were the female Vance, I would have had you in bed on our first date. I am not the female Vance.”

  “All it would take from you is one come-hither look, and any guy would tumble into your bed on the first date.”

  “My point exactly! I don’t do come-hither. I couldn’t if I tried. I have zero feminine wiles.”

  “Oh, you have wiles.”

  “I have no wiles.” She ran her hands down her body. “Nothing to wile with.”

  The truck came to an abrupt stop. Brooks threw the gear shift into park and leaned over into Lolly’s face. “You have plenty to wile with. Trust me.”

  “Where are we?” Lolly asked, nervously looking around, seeing nothing but dark.

  “We’re on the ridge overlooking the lake.”

  Lolly looked flustered. “But it’s already dark.”

  “I know.” Brooks opened his door, exited, and then slammed it shut.

  Lolly scrambled out of the truck. “Why are we overlooking the lake when it’s too late to see the lake?” She moved toward him tentatively as he opened the tailgate, her face awash with uncertainty. “Brooks. You didn’t drive us out here so you could spank me, did you?”

  Brooks sighed, turned, and propped his hip on the tailgate. “No, Lolly. I did not drive out here so I could spank you.”

  “Okay then. But it’s a little dark and isolated. I mean, no one would hear me scream. F-frank-lly,” she stuttered, walking away, “if I wasn’t here with a cop, I’d be a little nervous.”

  “You sound like you’re a lot nervous.”

  “Well, um. Let’s see. First, I kissed your friend, whom you adamantly warned me about. And then, in my fervor to win an argument, I’m pretty sure I insulted you. And just now I was sort of…shouting…at you. So yes, I’m nervous you’ve decided I’m more trouble than you’re up for, and you might leave me out here handcuffed to a tree.”

  Brooks, who was now sitting on the tailgate, stared across the twenty feet of darkness Lolly had put between them. With deliberate intent, he stood up and crossed the distance. The gravel crunched beneath his feet, but there was only silence when he stopped and faced her dead on. He reached around, took hold of a long length of hair at the center of her back and tugged it gently so that her face tilted up to his and he could be sure he had her full attention.

  “Let’s get one thing straight,” he said. “If I had wanted to be head coach, I would be head coach.”

  Lolly’s head nodded. And then she licked her lips and nodded some more, sending a jolt of longing through his chest and his belly. “I know that,” she whispered, appearing more afraid than before. “I know that. Vance said as much.”

  Of course he did. Good Ol’ Vance.

  “You want me to take you home?”

  “No.”

  “Then stop looking at me like I’m Jack the Ripper.”

  “Sorry.”

  He released her hair and she paced by him toward the truck, turning before she got halfway there. “I am competitive,” she admitted, throwing up her hands and stomping back. “To a fault! If I’m playing tennis or golf or even if I’m running with someone for exercise, I want to win. I’m not one of those people who can simply enjoy being out in the fresh air,” she mocked. “Screw that! I want to win or at the very least make a good showing. It’s a competition, for heaven’s sake. There is always a winner and a loser.”

  “I get that,” Brooks said, moving toward her slowly. “I do. It feels a whole lot better to win.” And he knew better than anyone that sometimes that wasn’t even enough.

  “So you understand that if Vance and I are playing tennis in a tournament, the two of us are going to want to win.”

  “I get it. Just keep in mind it’s not the primary reason you two are playing together.” He took both her hands in his and leaned over to kiss her lightly on the nose. “Now, I am declaring this a Vance-free zone. No more discussion of the Dark Prince.”

  “Dark Prince,” she snickered. “He’d probably love that.”

  “Without doubt.”

  ***

  Lighthearted relief bubbled up inside Lolly now that she and Brooks were back in alliance. So the words ‘Did you bring me up here to watch the submarine races?’ fell out of her mouth before she had a chance to filter them. Nothing like begging a guy to make out with you.

  “The submarine races started at nine,” Brooks said, pulling her behind him toward the pickup. “But there’s another show that starts in about ten minutes,” he said.

  “I thought you might be taking me to see your house.” Her eyes were adjusting to the dark and she could see a small cooler in the back of his truck. He pulled out a patchwork quilt from behind it and handed it to her.

  “Waitin’ on a few finishing touches,” he said, taking hold of the cooler. “My house isn’t quite ready for you, Laura Leigh, and you aren’t quite ready for it. Besides,” he said, pointing in the direction he wanted them to go, “we would have missed out on this.”

  Lolly followed him through the small, graveled lot and down a grassy slope before Brooks set the coole
r down. “Here,” he said. He took the quilt from her arms and together they spread it out, making sure there weren’t any rocks or sticks underneath. Lolly sat in the middle, her bare legs stretched out in front of her. The night was warm and humid, so the icy bottle of beer Brooks handed her seemed like the perfect accompaniment. She kicked off her boots while pointing and flexing her toes in a nervous flutter as Brooks’ long, strong, and oh-so-masculine body stretched out beside her.

  He tilted his bottle in a toast against hers and then took a long pull on his beer.

  “You didn’t have a beer at The Tavern,” she said.

  “I’m driving.”

  “And now?”

  “Now?” He leaned onto one elbow facing her. She felt the rough pads of his fingertips rub back and forth across the back of her hand. “Now it’s a perfect night and I’m sitting under the stars on the quilt my grandma made for me. On a date I’ve been looking forward to all week with a beautiful, albeit ultra-competitive girl who just admitted to kissing my best friend….”

  “Ah!”

  “And then tried to cut our date short to go home and read a book about tennis….”

  “I did not!”

  “So he wouldn’t be upset with her….”

  “Brooks!”

  “And then she hurt my feelings by belittling my status as assistant coach. I think I deserve a beer, don’t you?” He laughed as he thwarted her attempt to smack him.

  Lolly rolled to her back in defeat. “Oh, Lord. When you put it that way…."

  Her voice died off and she felt the exhaustion of a long week settle over her body. She noticed as it seeped into her limbs, and the weight of it settled her against the earth, pulling her down almost into the ground beneath the quilt. She lay there quiet and comfortable, her eyes cast up into the night sky where she noticed more and more stars revealing themselves.

  It was at the very edge of her vision. A flash. A streak. Something. She tilted her head and it was gone. Another streak of light to the left had her turning her head back just in time to witness the entire flash-path of a shooting star directly overhead in the center of the sky.

  “Did you see that?” she said, pointing.

  “Uh-huh,” Brooks said from beside her, now flat on his back with one arm bent under his head.

  “And there?” She pointed to the right.

  “Yep.”

  “Oh, and another. Brooks!” The sky was coming to life before her eyes. She no longer needed to watch her peripheral vision or wonder if what she’d captured in a fleeting moment was real. The shooting stars hurtled one after another until the frequency increased, and they appeared to dance together like the Bellagio Fountains. The magic of glimpsing one shooting star could have filled Lolly up, but this…this was a miracle happening before her eyes. And her awe was so great it took her breath away.

  At some point, Brooks reached down and entwined his fingers with her own. She squeezed his hand in response, unable to speak. He brought her hand up to his lips and kissed it before letting their hands fall between them once more.

  When she found her voice, she asked, “What is this?”

  “A meteor shower.”

  “You knew about this?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “How?”

  “The news. They said it would be a perfect night to see it. No moon. No clouds. I figured this would be the best spot. Away from any lights and no trees to block our view.”

  “You planned to bring me here?” she whispered.

  “I didn’t want you to miss it.”

  She was humbled. By the Universe’s display and by this man at her side. The swell of emotion that grew in that moment tightened her chest and rode on a tide of gratitude and longing and regret and worry and joy. Each one rolling and pitching over the other, combining and separating and heaving up from her chest and into her throat, damming itself up at the edge of her eyes. Had she been alone, she would have wept out loud, allowing the emotion to move up and out. As it was, she silently gulped air to bank the tears and disperse the emotion. She didn’t want to have to explain. She wouldn’t be able to find the words if she tried.

  “Lolly,” Brooks whispered, turning his head to stare at her. She couldn’t look at him. Not now. She squeezed his hand.

  “Lolly,” he said, rolling on his side and inserting himself into her turmoil. His hand cradled her face, allowing his thumb to feel an errant tear. He whisked it away as he placed his other hand to her opposite cheek, both thumbs following the same line of protocol. All she could think was that he was missing the star extravaganza above him, which made her feel worse and caused a tiny sob to escape her chest, push through her throat, and then burst from her lips.

  “Laura Leigh, talk to me,” he pleaded. His forehead came to rest on top of hers, his breath becoming a gentle caress. His hands cradled her head and he began to kiss her tears away, which only made more erupt in their place.

  She wanted to speak. To tell him it was much ado about nothing. But with the turmoil of emotion lodged in her throat, she knew any sound she made would likely release the flood gates to a point that no amount of words would be able to explain. So she tilted her head back and placed her lips under his.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Genevra stood in Hale’s opulent kitchen holding a chilled glass of buttery chardonnay staring across the large ornate swimming pool to the estate grounds beyond. Next to her, Hale was pointing out various landmarks and chatting proudly about all they surveyed. She couldn’t hear any of it.

  She’d known Hale Evans was wealthy. Everybody in Henderson knew that. But she’d never imagined such wealth accumulated in one spot. And it was all so beautifully, beautifully executed. Her mind stumbled around for words to describe the red brick gate at the entrance and the stabled garage. The mansion itself, inside and out, was tastefully exquisite in every detail. It was lush, yet inviting. Extravagant yet comfortable. From the dining room to the pool’s stone patio, not one thing was overdone. It was all simply done to perfection.

  “Ah! Madre. At last.” Genevra turned at Hale’s words and a genuine smile came unforced at the sight of old world grace and elegance. “Emelina Flores, may I present Genevra DuVal. Genevra, my mother, Emelina.”

  “Mrs. Flores,” she said, moving forward to shake her hand.

  “Emelina, please,” she insisted. “And may I call you Genevra?”

  “Of course,” she said, beaming. Hale’s mother took up her hand in a double grip and held it close to her heart.

  “We are so fortunate to have you in our home. I have been so eager to meet you. You must tell me everything that my son has not shared, as we are destined to be very good friends, are we not?”

  “We are indeed,” Genevra agreed, grateful for the immediate approval.

  “Ladies, it’s such a beautiful evening. Let’s enjoy our drinks poolside,” Hale said, directing them out the open French doors and to the umbrella-covered table beyond. “Madre, shall I pour you a glass of port?”

  “That would be lovely,” Emelina said, slipping her arm through Genevra’s and walking her through the doors. “He’s a wonderful man, my son,” she said quietly as they strolled over the patio to the awaiting table. “Forgive me, but I will say this now while he cannot hear. He has not been happy in so long, I forgot what he is like when his spirit is carefree. It is because of you he has returned to himself. I thank you for that. In my heart, I thank you for that.”

  “Mrs. Flo––Emelina, it is through your son’s carefree spirit that I, myself, have found happiness again. I hope that our…tardiness in confessing our relationship has not upset you greatly.”

  “Don’t think a thing of it,” she said, waving it away before indicating the seat Genevra should take. “I am honored to be included at all,” she said as she sat in the comfy patio chair.

  “Included in what?” Hale wanted to know as he arrived with the port and a glass of wine for himself. “Lilabeth is bringing out a cheese plate in a moment.” />
  “I was telling Genevra I am honored to meet her, hijo, and how happy you’ve been of late.”

  “It’s true.” He nodded to Genevra. “I’m extremely happy. Especially now that my two favorite women have met. Ah! And here comes the boy. Right on time.”

  Genevra glanced over to watch a hip-looking Hale Jr. emerge from the wood-and-glass pool house and move toward them with a determined stride and easy grace. His hair was as dark as his father’s but worn long enough so it curled into a flip at the back of his neck. Tan and sporting a ready grin, he wore an expensive pair of light-colored slacks over a basic pair of flip-flops. His white linen shirt was open at the collar and hung casually over his waistband. It took all of five seconds for Genevra to forgive her niece, Molly, for the trouble she’d put her father through. Lord, the son was almost as distracting as his father.

  “Genevra, my son, Vance. Vance, this is Mrs. DuVal.”

  Vance came forward and shook her hand. “Mrs. DuVal,” he said before twisting his lips into a devilish grin. “Mrs. DuVal, if you’ve gone ahead and thrown your hat into the dating ring, I’d like to ask you out myself. The two of us have to be much closer in age than you and my father.”

  “Dear Lord,” his father grumbled as his grandmother spit her port back into her glass.

  Genevra slid her hand from Vance’s and moved it to her throat. “Oh my! Your reputation doesn’t begin to do you justice.”

  “And no one warned me how hot Lolly’s mother is.” He shot his father a look suggesting that it was all his fault.

  “Vance Evans, you are my favorite bad boy ever. I do hope you plan to join us for dinner so I can get to know you better.”

  “I wouldn’t miss it,” he said, pulling out her chair so she could reseat herself. “Abuela, you okay over there?” he said, slipping his grandmother a sly grin. “I’ll fix myself a drink, get you another port, and be right back.”

  “No hurry,” his grandmother scolded. “Genevra, I apologize….”

  “For what?” she insisted. “Emelina, you’ve no doubt received hundreds of compliments from younger men. Please don’t stand in the way of mine.”