by Dani Collins
“We used to drive by this guy who begged on a street corner. He was all toothless and scary, but I just went up to him and asked if I could beg with him. He was super nice and told me how to find the soup kitchen. The people there were really generous and gave me a bed. They were Christians, totally normal and not pushy at all about it, but I was soured on religion. I moved on as soon as I got a job and a room.” In a fleabag motel.
The first months of being on her own had been terrifying and difficult, but she shrugged it off. The compound had been worse and all her struggles to get out were worth it.
“Mom caught up to me and tried to make me come back. I was dating the fry cook at my new job by then. Actually, we had only gone to one movie, but he wanted to drive to Texas. I went with him more to get distance from Mom than to be with him. I was honestly scared she would kidnap me back into it. My second boyfriend promised to get us both jobs in the movie industry in California. Turns out they weren’t the kind of movies I wanted to work on. Or in.” She made a face while he swore under his breath. “Moving here was boyfriend number three, but I’ve learned my lesson. No more moving for a man.”
*
Glory had the perfect excuse to take half the day off, hide out at Suzanne’s, and write. She had to leave her car with Jimmy across the street again, this time to get her brakes done. After picking up a cordless drill her father had seen on sale in the Haven Hardware Store’s flyer, she dropped her car, then kicked back with her laptop.
Now it was the lunch rush, which broke her concentration, making her self-conscious. She was at her second-favorite table, where no one could sneak up and see what she was writing, but she switched to her mother’s fan page, liking and commenting on posts.
She had the sense she was being observed, however, and lifted her gaze.
Bam. Rolf was looking right at her. He flicked his gaze away and moved up his place in line.
She flashed her own gaze back to her screen. Her pulse did a little trip and stumble of alarm while her whole body went hot. It was so silly. He wasn’t going to kill her and eat her, but any sideways look from him had the power to bruise her these days.
It was this inconvenient lust that continued to accost her, but how could she help herself? He was built like a god. She wanted to plunge a butter knife into his neck, he was such a self-involved jerk, but she couldn’t help surreptitiously taking him in, now that he wasn’t looking at her. His pale green, long-sleeved shirt hugged the biceps he worked in the lodge’s fitness room. He had pushed his sleeves back to expose his tanned forearms and hooked a thumb in the back pocket of his jeans. His head was bent forward as he scrolled through his phone with his other hand. He was due for a haircut. It almost touched his collar at the back.
Everyone shifted forward again. She tried not to look, but come on. That ass. She wasn’t an ogler for men’s butts as a rule, but his was round and meaty, but tight, like hand-sculpted marble. His thighs looked equally well-crafted and hard. Purely as a research exercise, she imagined what it would feel like to run her hands over that ass and feel those hard thighs flexing outward between her own.
A flood of heat went into her loins.
“Your bread bowl is ready, Glory,” Suzanne said from behind the counter. “But I can’t remember if you like the cheese browned on top?”
Rolf turned to glance at her.
Flustered with traces of lust, thanks.
“Just sprinkled like that is fine, thanks.” Glory forced a smile as she closed her laptop and rose to fetch it.
“Oh, Candy could have brought it,” Suzanne protested.
“You’re all busy.”
Candy was running the cash and packaging pastries from behind the counter while the blue-haired Eden manned the coffee station and Suzanne prepared the meals. They worked like a well-oiled clock, but Suzanne looked tired. Glory was trying to pretend she hadn’t noticed. That she wasn’t worried for her. Scared.
“Hasn’t been like this since the girls were in high school,” Suzanne said as she reached the dish over to Glory. “We owe our thanks to you, Rolf.” She sent a warm smile to him. “Oh, you need a spoon,” she muttered, forcing Glory to continue standing there.
“Mmm, thanks, Rolf,” Eden said, making a face at him, completely unintimidated, telling her sister in an aside, “His usual.”
Candy nodded and rang Rolf’s latte through while Eden finished it off. “Let us know if you want some hours,” Eden said to Glory. “Heard you’re pretty good at this yourself.” She set Rolf’s coffee in front of him.
Glory accepted the cutlery Suzanne handed her and glanced at the heart Eden had drawn on Rolf’s latte. It was a fancy one inset with three paler ones, so it looked like it was beating. Four smaller hearts danced in a border on either side. That was a fucking Valentine.
“I can’t top that.” Glory stared right into Rolf’s face. “Not even if I tried.”
He met her gaze, blinked once without a hint of remorse, then gave Eden a curt nod. “Thanks.” He left a few bills, screwed the lid onto his cup, and walked out.
*
Ergh. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t get back into her story. Stupid Rolf, scrambling her brain.
She pushed her dirty lunch plate aside and drummed her fingers on the edge of her laptop. Pandora had spilled her guts about her mom. Now what? Open more presents? What had Brock bought for his sister-in-law that he might have put under the tree for Pandora? A breast pump?
Gah. So not romantic. A guy wouldn’t think of that anyway.
Hmm. Romance. Maybe Brock knew Amber liked reading romance and had picked up a hardcover for her? All of Glory’s mom’s heroines read romance. It was kind of her mom’s thing that she often name-dropped an author friend into her own stories.
Pandora unwrapped the latest Kathleen Cormer…
Glory released a heavy sigh that was very nearly a sob. Was that what this was?
“Sorry,” Eden said, dusting her hands on her butt. She had just dumped a handful of painted canvases onto the chair near Glory’s.
“Pardon? Oh, that wasn’t for you. I was thinking of something else,” Glory said.
“Oh. Good. I’ll carry on then, if you don’t mind.” She disappeared and came back with a hammer and nails.
“Tape measure? Level?” Candy suggested as she cleared and wiped a table nearby.
“I’m an artist. I can do it by eye.”
Candy snorted.
“Are these yours?” Glory asked, looking at the painting Eden held up to the wall.
“Uh-huh.” Eden bit the corner of her lip and rejected it for another. She was so cute. Not very tall, slender, green and gold shadow giving her eyes a fey effect. Glory half expected pointy ears, Eden was so elfin-looking.
She caught Glory staring.
“I like the first one,” Glory said.
They were landscapes rendered in bright, almost discordant colors. A stand of trees was painted in pinks and purples. A mountain stood neon orange and turquoise over a livid red lake. Fall leaves in primary colors were the next onto the wall.
They were a study in moods, her talent with form obvious while her view of the world was quirky and fresh.
“Do you paint people?”
“With face paint.” She spun to point at Glory. “Remember that for opening day at the lodge. I’m good, fast, and cheap.”
“All the boys in high school said so,” Candy quipped in a drive-by.
“I tried paying them to make her feel better about herself, but…” Eden shrugged.
Glory grinned, envious of the chirpy relationship. Her mother hadn’t wanted more kids. Having one had derailed her aspirations enough. That’s what she had felt when Glory was little. Twenty years later, when faced with stage-four cancer, she had wished she’d given Glory a sibling.
“Do you do book covers?” Glory wasn’t sure why she asked. Her mother’s covers were carefully branded and Glory had already started looking for appropriate images for Brock and Pand
ora.
“I haven’t, but that sounds fun. You’re a writer?”
“My mom was. You’re really good.” She habitually deflected from her own work. “How many do you have?”
“About thirty.”
The lodge had seventy rooms and a lot of public space with empty walls. At some point Devon would be finished stripping, repairing, re-plumbing, repainting, and re-carpeting. Window covers were on order; furniture was still being decided. They hadn’t given any thought to the finishing touches on the décor beyond choosing colors.
“Are they all nature?”
“Some cityscapes. Frisco and San Antonio. I’ve been traveling for a few years.”
“What’s your website? Do you have a card? I’ll check it out.”
“I should have both, but I don’t. Not yet. The paintings are across the street, though, if you have time right now. I’m going over for another load. Would this be for you personally, or…?”
“I don’t know. Just seeing these makes me realize we should showcase local artists when we’re open. I’ll talk with my dad about it.”
“You always say this town doesn’t offer any opportunities,” Suzanne chided as she came to take Glory’s dishes.
“Yeah, she’s going to buy five year’s worth of my paintings,” Eden scoffed, then gave Glory a sharp look. “Are you?”
“I don’t know. Lemme see what you have.” She wasn’t getting any fresh words and still had to wait for her car. She started to pack up.
“Oh, leave that here,” Suzanne said. “I’ll keep an eye on it.”
Glory was mildly psychotic about protecting her laptop, but Eden was already holding the door.
“It’ll be fine,” Eden assured her as Glory looked back on her way out the door. “The last crime spree to hit this town was about five years ago, right before I left, which was a huge coincidence. Mostly drunk and disorderly, also a coincidence.” She made a face of false innocence, eyeballs rolling skyward.
“Your dad is the police chief, isn’t he?”
“It’s like being the preacher’s daughter. Candy toed the line and I pole-vaulted it. Every. Single. Time.”
Glory was really starting to like Eden.
They climbed the stairs to her flat over the mechanic’s. Glory shamelessly took mental notes. These steps would have to be swept in the middle of winter. The building was dated, the apartment cluttered because Eden had only just moved in. Were the frayed couch and beat-up wooden table and chairs hers? The coffee table held a sprig of dandelions in a mason jar, no doubt thanks to her niece. One corner of the living room was taken up with guitars and amps along with some framed concert posters.
“You play guitar?” That’s what Brock might ask.
“The acoustic ones are mine.”
“Did I hear your boyfriend manages a band?” Could she mine Eden for research on colorful backstage stories? “Do you go on the road with him?”
“He wanted me to.” She made a pained face. “He books gigs for a bunch of bands, but I prefer to paint. We’re not actually together. I only wound up sharing an apartment with him because we were both renting off a mutual friend. He’s kind of a prick, actually, which I didn’t realize until I was in a relationship with him. I was hoping that moving back here would be the final—” She made a snip of scissors with her two fingers. “But our friend sold the place we were in and with Pryce being on the road, I had to bring his stuff with me. He’s really pissed and I’m like, I could have left it on the curb in the rain, fuck-stick. But whatever.” She rolled her eyes.
Glory wanted to ask why Eden and Candy had moved back to Haven, suspecting something was going on with Suzanne’s health, but she didn’t want to pry. Frankly, she wasn’t ready to hear it. She really, really liked Suzanne.
“The paintings are in here.”
Glory followed into the bedroom where stacks of paintings stood on the floor, propped against the wall, four and five deep. They flicked through them, Eden pulling out a handful here and there to show a triptych or some that formed a theme around a color or location. They talked about her openness to painting local landmarks or building around seasons or particular colors.
“Are you kidding? If I could make a living painting, I’d be in heaven.”
Glory was really excited as they walked downstairs. “I know not everyone in town is thrilled with the ski hill coming back online, but if we’re supporting locals as much as possible, that counts for something, doesn’t it?”
“Speaking of locals that you’re supporting,” Eden drawled as they came to the bottom of the stairs and found Jimmy, the mechanic, waiting for them. He was wiping his hands on a rag. “Don’t fleece her. She’s my new BFF. Friends and family discount, hear me?” She poked the nametag on his coveralls.
“You have too many friends.”
“It’s my sparkling personality.” She beamed and headed back to the café.
“My car ready?” Glory assumed.
“Nope. The calipers snapped.”
“What does that mean? You broke my car while fixing it?”
“They were rusted through and need to be replaced. Better now, while I’ve got it adrift. I can have the parts here in a few days, job finished in a week or so.” He told her the amount.
Barf.
She wished she could blame him, but that poor beast had more than two hundred thousand miles on it. “Do you have a courtesy car?”
“Nope.”
“What do people usually do when they have to leave their car here?”
“Walk home. Call a friend.” He shrugged.
She would have to call her father. He might not be able to leave right away and Suzanne’s was only open another hour or so. Time to check out the local library?
As she looked across to the café, trying to decide where to go after collecting her things, Rolf’s truck rolled down the road in front of her. He turned his head to give her a hard stare as he passed.
She was so shocked, she did nothing, just stared right back.
Then he was past her and accelerating, heading out of town.
Back to the lodge.
Shit.
Fuck, fuck, fuckety-fuck.
She hurried to take out her phone, not sure whether she was praying he would pick up or would refuse to answer her call.
*
When Rolf’s phone rang through the console, his brain was still taking apart the mechanic who’d clearly been ogling Glory’s chest as Rolf had driven past them.
He’d known it was her from two blocks away. He’d already seen her in that long, blue skirt and a top that was nondescript, but had a neckline low enough to reveal a hint of breast swell and cleavage. It was sexy in a less-is-more way.
He’d been clocking her and the way the wind whipped her skirt, revealing her pale calves in a flirty peekaboo. Her hair was coming loose from its ponytail, making her lift a hand to scrape it out of her eyes as she turned her head and looked right at him.
She busted him gawking and he busted the mechanic, who hadn’t looked up from Glory’s tits to see Rolf was pulling the trigger on a kill shot.
Fucker. He hit the green button on his steering wheel to accept the call. Why did he even care?
“Rolf,” he barked.
A brief pause, then, “It’s Glory.”
He lifted his foot off the accelerator and talked over whatever she was saying. “What’s wrong?” Something had to be wrong. Why else would she call him?
Another pause where he realized she had just told him. She told him again.
“My car has to stay in the shop. Are you—” She cleared her throat. “Are you heading back to the lodge?”
“You need a lift?” He pulled over in case he lost service.
“Yeah.” She sounded like she would rather walk naked into a biker bar. “Do you mind?”
He bet if he could see back around that last bend, she would be holding a thumb out, hoping for an alternative.
“You still at the mechanic’s?
” He pulled a U-turn. “I’ll be right there.”
“Suzanne’s. I have to get my stuff.”
A few minutes later, he parked and was about to go inside when she came out, her laptop bag over her shoulder.
“Were you eating? I can wait.”
“No, I’m done.” She climbed into his truck with a tight expression and stiff movements. She resented this so much, it would have been funny if it wasn’t damn near tragic.
“What’s wrong with your car?”
“Everything.” She settled her bags at her feet, but kept her phone in her hand. “Age. Calipers,” she expounded when he lifted inquiring brows.
“Anything else you need before we leave?”
“No.”
He probably shouldn’t find this so tremendously satisfying. He sent the mechanic a mental flip of the bird as he pulled away from the curb, even though the guy was long gone.
Glory wasn’t finding anything about it pleasing. He could feel the waves of discontent rolling off her tense posture.
The drive took about an hour when the weather was good, but roadwork outside of town held them up. It was warm enough he opened a window and turned off the engine to wait their turn. She checked her phone, but they were beyond service.
She drew a breath. He thought she was going to say something, but she let it out in a sigh.
Apparently, they were playing The Quiet Game. Well, sister, he won that one all the time.
They were flagged through the construction area. He picked up speed on the other side. Fifteen minutes later, they turned up the valley toward Whiskey Jack. A chunk of the access road was still gravel, where the old washout had been. It was growing potholed from traffic, the last of the snowmelt, and rain.
As he slowed to pick his way through it, he was about to close his window to keep the dust out when he spotted a bear on the hillside. A mother with two cubs. He let the truck roll to a stop and cut the engine.
Glory snapped a look at him.
He nodded and she followed his line of sight to the cinnamon coats against the hillside that was greening up with the arrival of spring.