Entangled

by Melissa Brayden

  Joey raised an eyebrow. “I can’t argue there. It’s the rest of it that gets me all bothered.”

  Madison covered her eyes in frustration. “Josephine. The hotel is opening. You can bang your head against the wall all you want, but all you’ll have then is a hurt head. Is that what you want?”

  She squinted. “Well, no one wants a hurt head.”

  “Exactly,” Gabriella said, picking up the baton. “You know what would be much nicer? A happy heart.”

  Joey stared at her. “You’re a Hallmark commercial tonight.”

  Madison laughed. “Listen to Hallmark, JoJo. What’s the deal with the whole hotel thing? Can we back up to that?”

  “If you want.”

  Madison pressed on. “You’re like a dog with a bone. Don’t get angry at me for asking,” she said, her voice softer, “but is this maybe more about your dad than it is you?”

  Joey immediately sobered from the earlier banter, as the fun slipped away. “Maybe,” she said quite honestly. It was a question she’d been asking herself over the last few days. “I don’t like the idea of The Jade in Whisper Wall either, but it was such a sticking point for him, you know? He wanted to see this area preserved the way it was, and part of me is fighting for that on his behalf.”

  Gabriella nodded in sympathy. “Noble of you, but it’s okay if you like Becca, too. You’re not betraying your dad.”

  Madison nodded. “In fact, Jack would want you to live your life to its fullest. He would get it. That’s the kind of person he was.”

  Joey considered her friends’ words. She had to admit, they rang true. Yet at the same time, she felt this…call. “I have to be the watchdog for Tangle Valley now.”

  Madison winced. “That’s a lot of pressure.”

  “You can’t control the world,” Gabriella said. “Definitely not a large corporation. I say you cut yourself a break and get to know this hotel hottie. She’s actually really nice. We chatted.”

  “Should we call her up right now?” Madison asked with a glint in her eye. “I can drag over another bale.”

  Joey held up a hand. “No, no, no. We absolutely shouldn’t.” She sighed. “I have a lot going on right now.”

  “Can’t argue with that,” Madison said.

  “So I think I’m going to work on a friendship with Becca. Nothing more.”

  “For now,” Madison said into her glass. Joey blew off the comment, but Madison caught it. “It’s been years since Simone. And a horse just walked by. Hop on.”

  “Take a ride,” Gabriella said, drawing the last word out with a grin.

  “You two are tag-teaming me,” Joey said, gesturing with her wineglass at the pair. “You’re a no-good duo and you know it.” She grabbed a folded plaid blanket from the pile of three she’d carried out and noted its scratchy goodness. All farm blankets were a tad scratchy. It was a rule.

  “We still do some things well together,” Gabriella said. “But listen, if you want to take it slow, I applaud you. That’s the responsible way to go about it, just a little less exciting for me, but that’s not our goal.” She shrugged. “Becca’s not going anywhere and neither are you.”

  “Thank you for getting that.”

  “Now tell me all about your talk today.” Gabriella leaned in. “And emphasize any sexy parts. No. Embellish them.”

  Madison rolled her eyes as Joey launched into the tale. “It started with her dog…”

  Later that night, Joey couldn’t sleep. She turned onto her side, her back, her stomach until she finally threw the covers off and sat up in the dark room. The problem was she kept flashing on her afternoon and that undeniable push-pull tension she’d experienced in Becca’s presence. Her skin tingled in sensitivity and her mind went places racier than she was used to. Was it possible that their opposing sides had made their dynamic…even hotter? There was now something forbidden about Becca that had Joey shifting uncomfortably in the tank top and panties she’d worn to bed. She remembered the flecks of gold in Becca’s eyes. She visualized the way she sometimes ran a hand through her hair. She bit her lip when she thought about the sexy way Becca formed her words and the intelligent manner in which she communicated. Her body responded. The temperature in the room rose. She visualized Becca doing the most decadent of things to her body, and it responded readily.

  Oh, this was most definitely getting complicated.

  * * *

  Whisper Wall, Oregon, had an entire restaurant dedicated entirely to French fries, and Becca was here for it. The place was called I Only Have Fries for You, which made it only more perfect in Becca’s eyes. Inside there were famous paintings in which the subjects had been swapped out for a fry wearing sunglasses. Girl with a Pearl Earring was now a fry, as were the Mona Lisa and many others. She marveled at the genius and grinned in support.

  Once she looked at the menu, which was only a fourth the size of a regular menu, Becca found the restaurant’s name fitting because they legitimately offered nothing else. She’d arrived for her setup a few minutes early because first impressions mattered, and she’d never want anyone waiting on her.

  “What about a side salad?” she asked the server while she waited on her date. While Becca had made it clear to the cowboys that a romance with this woman was unlikely, she’d shut her mouth and agreed to keep an open mind when they’d argued. The only problem was her mind was otherwise preoccupied with someone else.

  “No salads,” the server said. He was a glasses-wearing teenager in a red T-shirt with a container of overflowing French fries depicted on the front. He wore a name tag that read Kevin and refused to participate in a single vocal shift or facial expression, which had Becca intrigued and up for the challenge.

  “A burger?” she asked with a grin.

  “God, no,” he deadpanned.

  “Chicken strips. I do love a good strip.”

  “Nope.”

  “How about another potato product? There are so many. Loaded baked? Tater Tots?”

  “No.”

  “You could ask the chef, Kevin.” Now she was just messing with him.

  He touched her menu. “Just the fries. And toppings and sauces. All we got.”

  She pointed at the menu. “Let’s hope I can mustard up the courage to order.”

  Kevin blinked. Nothing.

  “You know what? I’m going to wait for my date to arrive before ordering the fries. Ketchup with you later?”

  He nodded curtly, turned on his heel, and headed to the front of the restaurant. She wondered if the constant fry service had scared away his zest for life. Shame. Just then, in total contrast to Kevin, a perky individual bounded her way into the restaurant. She stood at the front of the room and scanned the nearby tables, which signaled Becca that this might be her date, Emmaline. She had the same dark curly hair as the woman in the photo.

  She held up her hand, waved tentatively, and smiled, to which the woman pointed back and skipped her way over. She was certainly very cheerful. Becca easily gave her that. Must have been having a fantastic day.

  “Are you Becca? You look just the way Stephen said you would. I love your hair.” She hooked her bag around the back of the chair. “And your jacket. Just look at you.” She placed a hand on her hip and just stared before sliding into the chair across from Becca’s.

  “Oh, well, thank you. You must be Emmaline. Great to meet you.”

  “Right? It’s wonderful to meet new people, and going on dates is just an exciting way to meet people in a separate, more intimate manner. Wouldn’t you say?” She supposed that was true. Interesting way to phrase it, though. Becca opened her mouth to answer but didn’t get very far. “Dates are just stuperific. I made up that word. Don’t think I’m dumb for it.” She shrugged. “It’s just this thing I do a lot. I love to make up words. We need so many more of them. Wouldn’t you agree?”

  That was a lot to take in, and Becca did her best to turn her reaction around quickly, having learned from past experience. “I think there’s always room
for more, and I would never think you dumb for adding to the world’s vocabulary.” She swallowed. “It’s a good word, stuperific. And dates can be fun, yes.”

  “Tell me when you knew you were gay.”

  “What? Weren’t we just talking about words?”

  “That’s another thing I do. I leap around to keep the conversation fresh and exciting.” She demonstrated leaping with the saltshaker, then folded her hands on top of the table and waited.

  Becca stared back. “Maybe we should order first.”

  “We only have fries,” Kevin said, appearing out of nowhere. How did he manage that? He studied them, pen poised and ready for the order.

  “I’ll take…the fries,” Becca said gleefully. Why did she enjoy Kevin’s lack of surprise so damn much? Kevin simply made her happy.

  “I’ll have the fries, as well,” Emmaline said. “I’ll follow your lead.”

  Becca laughed because there weren’t really any other options.

  “You get your choice of three of our marvelous dipping sauces,” Kevin said as if he was the most bored human in the dullest moment of his very laborious existence. He offered a half-hearted gesture in the direction of the wall listing their choices. “Might I suggest the garlic aioli? Or perhaps our nacho fries? What about some chili on top? The choice is yours.”

  Oh yeah. He’d been forced to memorize that. “Do you know what an aioli is, Kevin?” Becca asked.

  “No,” he deadpanned.

  “Just checking.” They picked their sauces, and Kevin trudged away to French fry purgatory.

  “Now, where were we?” Emmaline asked with really wide eyes.

  “Why don’t we back up?” Becca offered. “Get to know the basics. How do you know Stephen and Monty?”

  “That’s an easy question right there. I make dog food in my kitchen and took them a sample. I’m hoping to mass produce one day. I just adore dogs, don’t you?”

  “Yes,” Becca said, seizing on the commonality. Relief settled. “I just love my new guy, Sky, who I adopted from the ranch. He’s a mixed breed and just the sweetest boy. What’s your dog’s name? Or do you have more than one?”

  “Oh, I don’t have any pets. I just like seeing dogs when I’m out and about, on their leashes, being pooches.” She made what could only be described as a pouty little dog face. “I’m a hardcore fan of the species. I do have a poster in my bedroom of three dogs, however.”

  “Perfect,” Becca said, nodding, trying not to question any of this. “And you’re capitalizing on a passion. That’s the way to do it. I admire you.”

  “I’m over dog food now, though. Onward and upward. I want a job where I can work with people in crisis. You know?” She gestured a lot with her hands, grasping at the air.

  “As in the health and wellness field?”

  “Or they somehow lost their keys and need help.” She placed an earnest hand on her chest. “I could be that person.”

  “Interesting. I suppose you could.”

  “You’re pretty. Has anyone ever told you that before?” Emmaline asked. “So glad I found you.” She licked her bottom lip. “If you ever lose your keys, come to Mama.”

  Mayday. What was happening right now? Becca bit the inside of her lip hard because a woman she’d known for all of six minutes had just said those words out loud. She wasn’t sure whether this was the most hilarious encounter ever or the most horrifying. One thing was for sure, she could not look away and longed for a journal to take notes.

  “Well, look who it is! Hi, Becca Crawford. We meet again.”

  Becca turned at the sound of a friendly voice floating their way from across the restaurant and grinned widely at Gabriella from Tangle Valley, who waved enthusiastically. Behind her walked Joey and another woman she’d not met. She watched as the two women turned and said something quietly to Joey, who, to Becca’s surprise, headed toward her.

  “Three times in one week. We’re out of hand,” Becca said.

  Joey smiled and shrugged. “A dose of small-town life for you. You can’t escape anyone around here. Enjoying yourself?”

  “Oh, immensely.”

  Joey looked to Emmaline. “I don’t think we’ve met. Are you a colleague of Becca’s?”

  Becca gestured to her date. “No, no. This is Emmaline. She will, however, help you find your keys.”

  “Nice to meet you. I’m Joey Wild—”

  “We’re on a date tonight,” Emmaline supplied. “A romantic one. We’ve also both agreed that we like dates a lot. What about you?”

  “Oh.” A pause. An unreadable expression came over Joey’s face. One thing was for sure, the authentic smile had dimmed. “I think dates can be nice. If you’re in the mood to go on a date.” She looked at Becca with what almost seemed like regret. Becca felt a pang of it herself, because Joey was now witnessing her on a kind of date, and it would likely send the entirely wrong message. Why had she agreed to this again? Because it had seemed like a nice way to meet more people. Sigh. She now saw the possible ramifications turn into her reality.

  “This is a cute place,” she said, making a show of looking all around at the overabundance of French fry decor, while her real goal was to steer them as far away from the topic of the date as possible. Especially since she had zero interest in Emmaline.

  Joey nodded. “I love it. We don’t have a fry festival in this town yet, but I’m feeling like it’s imminent.” Joey’s blond hair was parted on the side and swept down her forehead. It was a really sexy look, but what was even more effective was that she didn’t seem to be trying for that.

  Becca hooked a thumb. “I’m not sure if you’ve met Kevin, but he should maybe not be ambassador.”

  “I heard that,” Kevin said blandly, as he tromped over and delivered their fries. “Will you be joining the table?” he asked Joey.

  “Oh no. I wouldn’t want to intrude on their evening.”

  “And it’s a date, so…” Emmaline said, placing her hand on top of Becca’s in a cringeworthy show of possession she’d definitely not earned in their twelve minutes’ acquaintance.

  “I think you mentioned that,” Joey said politely. “And I’m intruding, so I’ll return to my friends.” She held up a hand as she backed away. “Enjoy your night.”

  Becca smiled but it was entirely forced and she hoped Joey saw her unhappiness at the now awkward situation. Once Joey turned to go, Becca closed her eyes briefly. She’d done nothing wrong, yet she felt like she’d crashed and burned horribly in Joey’s eyes. Again. She popped a fry into her mouth and felt the smallest bit better because God apparently worked in their kitchen.

  “These things are amazing,” she said to Emmaline, dipping a second fry in the sweet chili mayonnaise that came on the tray of sauces. “How’s the jalapeño ranch sauce?”

  “I’m enjoying it, but it reminds me a lot of my dead ex-husband. I can’t wait to tell you all about him. First, there was his run-in with a teacup poodle in 2001 that started the whole thing off.”

  And here we go. Becca ate her fries while nodding and smiling and doing her best to appear alarmed, sympathetic, and interested in the harrowing tales of Ronnie, who’d died from poor living habits. All the while, she stole glances across the restaurant at the three friends. Joey in particular. Her whole face lit up when she laughed, which she was doing a lot tonight, and Becca couldn’t help but smile, too. It was contagious, Joey’s happiness.

  “It’s not that positive a detail, though. He had trouble breathing on that ski slope.”

  Becca refocused and killed the smile. “No doubt. God, I can’t even imagine. Poor Ronnie. Again.”

  “Well, don’t feel too bad. He was arrested a week later for chasing our neighbor with a slingshot.”

  Becca swallowed a laugh. She was barely successful, and looked around for the destined-to-be-there hidden camera. There didn’t seem to be one. She sobered. “Well, that’s unfortunate.”

  “Not for the neighbor. Hey,” Emmaline said, leaning forward, “you want to
ditch this fry shack and take a visit to my apartment? I have peppermint schnapps and a fantastic collection of Christina Aguilera. I can be your genie in a bottle.” In that moment, her dark hair seemed alarmingly curly and her eyeballs nearly swirled.

  “Oh. You’re the nicest for that offer, but I’m afraid I’m not feeling so energetic tonight, Emmaline. I think I better head home after.”

  But she didn’t make it there anytime soon. Emmaline had another half dozen stories to tell and personal questions to ask, not that Becca answered any of them. At least it gave her plenty of time to kill the amazing fries and sample all six dipping sauces, which came with a lot more depth than her date.

  After finally bidding Emmaline good night with a friendly hug in the parking lot, Becca leaned against her Juke and began a group text to Monty and Stephen, demanding answers. “Please tell me you don’t truly think I’d be compatible with this woman.”

  Before she could straighten, her phone rang. Monty. “Becca, we thought she was great until she became a lunatic.”

  Stephen took the phone. “She duped us. She stopped by for coffee and told one wild story after another this afternoon. I wanted to send a run fast text to cancel your date, but Monty thought we should let you decide.”

  “I owe you my firstborn,” Monty shouted in the distance. “I’m so sorry. How were the fries?”

  “The one bright spot,” she called back. That wasn’t true. The second bright spot was currently still inside that restaurant having a fantastic night out with her friends. Becca’s heart tugged as she thought of the cringeworthy exchange earlier.

  “Want to come over for some wine and chatting?” Stephen asked. “We could turn this night around with my famous cheese plate. I add grapes. That’s key.”

  “Tempting, but I think I want to wear yoga pants and snuggle my doggo.”

  He sighed. “Sorry about tonight. We should have vetted her more. We heard lesbian and pounced.”

  “Common problem.”

  “You’re a class act, Crawford. Get together soon, then?”