by Ellie Hall
I smiled into his suit jacket. "He does have two left feet."
"I don't know why I didn't assume so from the start," he said, one corner of his mouth curving up. "I already know you’re an adept athlete."
And like that, all the warm, fuzzy feelings came crashing down. All it took was the reminder of the embarrassing, failed meet-cute that would forever haunt me. I tightened my jaw. There was nothing else to it. I would just have to come out in the open. Lay it all on the table. I leaned back. "Did you see me that day?"
His eyes narrowed. "What day?"
I pursed my lips. "You know what day. That morning on the Potomac trail. The day before you started working at Project Environment."
The other side of his mouth joined in his smile. "Maybe. I mean, I did happen to notice a woman in a surprisingly bright tank top lying underneath my park bench."
"I was not lying underneath the bench...just...a little close to it."
Without answering, he spun me out again, only to draw me back in with slow deliberateness. "Is there any particular reason you were taking a snooze so close to me?"
I bit my lip. There was no stopping this train now. "I was spying on you."
"Why?" His grin had turned into a look of pure curiosity.
"I... I wanted to serendipitously run into you on the trail. But then you had to show up with some running goddess and ruin all my plans."
"I'll be sure to tell my cousin you think she's a running goddess," he said dryly.
I ignored his comment. "And then, I had to make sure she was actually your girlfriend so I could put you out of my mind for good." This was so embarrassing. I needed to keep an eye on Logan so we could make our exit as soon as I finished getting this off my chest. "I thought it'd be fine if I just listened for a second and—" I pulled my hand from his to cover my eyes. "Well, you know the rest. I am forever humiliated, and I don't know if I can ever look you in the eye again."
I was serious about the whole looking-at-him part. My gaze was aimed determinedly at our feet—at least until a warm hand slipped under my chin, tilting my face up. The look on Owen's face was something I'd never seen before, something warm and genuinely happy. "Hazel, I'm not going to lie. That story is one of the funniest and craziest things I've ever heard. The fact that you—no, I'm not going to go there." He chewed the inside of his cheek as if he was trying not to laugh. If he didn't have such a firm hold on my waist, I would've dashed out of there.
"What I'm saying is that even though our first…encounter…was a little unusual, it doesn't define the rest of our lives." His eyes trailed my face as if he wanted to memorize every piece of it. "I don't know what it is, but there's something about you, Hazel. Something that is mesmerizing, and alluring, and I can't put my finger on it, but all I want to do is be near you. Every time you walk in a room, I can't focus on anything or anyone else. When I asked if you were bringing anyone to this party, I prayed you'd say no, hoping I could be your plus-one." He glanced away for a moment. "I don't know who that John guy is to you, but can you and I start over?"
The music had ended for a second time, but neither of us moved off the dance floor.
"Start over?" I asked. My thoughts were a daze, my breaths coming short, like there wasn't enough air in this huge building to fill my lungs.
He grinned. "You know, erase the past and all that."
"All that?" I was repeating him like some sort of trained parrot.
"Well, we don't have to erase the storage closet part. I kinda liked that hour with you." He wiggled his eyebrows. "But maybe everything else."
This was really happening. Owen wanted me. Me. Not his gorgeous running partner—who I now realized was his cousin—or his runway-model date—hopefully she'd turn out to be his long-lost sister—but me.
"I think I could work with that," I answered, my voice only slightly breathy.
"Well, in that case…" He halted our movements, stepping back a smidgen. "Hi, my name is Owen Allen." He stuck one hand out. "I've seen you on the trails a few times lately and have been dying to get your name."
I grasped his hand, more than happy to play his little game. "Really? I can't say that I've noticed you."
He gave a loud cough.
"My name is Hazel Clark."
"Well, Hazel, the real question is, would you like to go on a date with me? Maybe a Friday night movie?"
I looked into his eyes that seemed to spark with some unknown joke I’d have to pry out of him later. "Why, Owen, I thought you'd never ask."
The End
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Summer Dowell is a book loving mom to six that has a slight need to escape the laundry and diaper chaos. She’s turned her ability to see the humor in anything into a lineup of romantic comedies that give people a break from their everyday lives.
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Head Over Stilettos
Liwen Y. Ho
She’s into high fashion; he’s all about flush valves. Will a chance reunion give a bridal boutique owner and a motorcycle-riding plumber a crack at romance?
1
Josie
I can’t believe Wolverine’s coming to fix my toilet today.
“So, when should I expect this hunk of a man to arrive?” I ask my friend Piper over the phone. She’s the one who set me up with her husband’s friend who she claims looks like Hugh Jackman. Not set up in a relationship kind of way, although that had been her original plan. It just so happens that our “blind date” is taking place sooner than expected, thanks to a leaky pipe. Or what I hope is as easy to fix as a leaky pipe. My bridal shop is scheduled for its grand opening in five days, and I can’t afford any more delays.
“He said he has one thing to finish, then he’ll be right over. Assuming nothing goes wrong with that job,” she adds with an uneasy laugh. “You don’t want to hear the horror stories he’s told us about all the things he’s seen and smelled. I used to think working in medicine was messy, but dealing with plumbing issues—”
“Piper!” I cringe and tap my red stilettos on the marble floor of the showroom. There’s a reason why I chose this line of work. Sure, selling wedding gowns doesn’t save lives, but it does contribute to a man’s well-being. Happy wife, happy life, right? I shake my head to clear it of the images that tried to invade my well-being just now. “Please stop. You know how queasy I get about those things.”
“Sorry, Josie! No more mention of anything related to those things, I promise. How about we talk about something more romantic?”
“Romantic?” I don’t have to see Piper’s brown eyes to know they’re lit up with mischief. Ever since she remarried the love of her life this summer, she’s been intent on playing matchmaker for our group of college friends. And since I’m the oldest one of us at age forty-two—which I prefer to think of as forty-two years young—I’m her primary target. “I appreciate the thought, but I really don’t see a plumber being a good fit for me.”
“Josie! You haven’t even met him yet. I’m telling you, he’s not only handsome, he’s got a heart of gold. He’s patient, encouraging, and a great listener.”
“Then introduce him to one of the other girls. What about Cassie? She’s good at listening, too.”
“Which is kinda why I think he’d be perfect for you.”
I bristle and place a hand on my hip. I’m starting to catch on to Piper’s not-so-subtle hint. “I get it. You think I need someone patient, encouraging, and who listens because I’m not patient or encouraging, and I don’t listen.”
“I didn’t say that. You can be patient and encouraging. But yes, you do have a hard time taking advice.”
“Humph.” My skin grows hot under the collar of my long sleeve black dress. I wish I could blame this sudden rise in temperature on hormones—which has been the case before—but I know it’s not the reason today. There might be a tad bit of truth to Piper’s words. Like a smidgeon of a tad. “It’s not in my genes to listen.”
/> “That’s because you don’t wear jeans!” Piper snorts at her own joke. “Sorry. Peter’s dad jokes are totally rubbing off on me.”
“Ha ha,” I reply with a droll smile.
It’s hard to get annoyed with Piper, especially when she’s in such a good mood. Knowing she’s happy makes me happy, too. I’ve always been the mother hen among our girlfriends, ever since college when I was their resident dorm adviser. Twenty years later, and I still watch out for them. Offering advice, reminding them to schedule their annual exams, planning girls’ nights out—that’s all on me. I’m the oldest of seven, so taking charge is my jam.
Just no real jam, please.
Growing up, my family subsisted on PB&J sandwiches. I’ve eaten so much pectin, my insides are probably gelled. Preserved fruit, thrift stores, and coupon clipping are all part of the past though. These days, thanks to a successful realty business I recently sold and many, many years of saving up, I’m finally making it. Fulfilling my dream of starting a business in the heart of Silicon Valley. Dining at Michelin Starred restaurants. Starting a collection of Jimmy Choo shoes. But never will I ever put on a pair of jeans.
“I have nothing against denim or people who choose to wear it, but I own a high-end boutique now.” One glance around the place reveals how much time and thought I put into the decor. Crystal chandeliers, upholstered banquettes, hand-tufted rugs, and gilded mirrors—I didn’t spare any details. Most of the furniture came from a French antique auction where I got into a major bidding war with a blue-haired woman. She had a few choice words for me that day, which I fortunately couldn’t understand. That didn’t, however, keep me from choosing a French name for my shop. “I’m the face of Amour Toujours, so I need to look the part.”
“Since you’re the face, it shouldn’t matter what you put on your tush then.” Piper bursts out giggling. “Get it? Because you wear jeans on your tush, not your face.”
“Yes, I get it.” I groan loudly. “It’s times like this when I kind of miss the old you. The you before Peter swept you off your feet and infected you with his cheesy sense of humor.”
“Hey! I happen to like cheese. It’s high in calcium, protein, and laughter. Just you wait. When you meet Peter’s friend, he’ll have you howling, too.”
“Because he looks like Wolverine?”
Piper gasps. “Was that a joke? Look at you! You haven’t even met Graham yet and you’re already getting funnier.”
My brows shoot up. “His name’s Graham? As in graham cracker?”
“Yeah. Why? Do you have something against that name?”
I place a hand on my warm cheek. “No, the name is fine. It’s just that my first crush when I was a kid was on a guy named Graham.”
“Is that why you like s’mores so much? I thought it was the marshmallow and chocolate combo that you loved, but now that I think about it, we always end up running out of graham crackers because you’d eat them all!”
“Guilty as charged.” I sigh. “I still think about him from time to time and wonder what he’s up to. Not that anything could have happened between us. He was a lot older than me.”
“How much older?”
“About a decade.”
“Interesting. He’s twelve years older than Peter and me, which would make him ten years older than you. Wouldn’t it be funny if our Grahams are the same guy?”
“That’s highly unlikely. He was studying to be a psychologist, not a plumber.”
“People change careers. Maybe he had a midlife crisis and decided to do something completely different.”
I scoff. “No one decides to be a plumber. Why would anyone willingly want to get their hands dirty?”
“You know you’re talking to someone who gets peed and spit up on by her patients, right? But I love being a pediatrician.”
“Piper! I thought we agreed to keep this conversation quease-free?” Any mention of bodily fluids reminds me of the many diapers I changed for my siblings, which in turn makes me physically ill. Clutching my midsection, I let my gaze drift until it lands on a row of gorgeous wedding gowns hanging in a large open wardrobe. My lungs fill with air again. White lace is oddly comforting to me, even in spite of the fact that I’ve never been married. I’ve come close, but that ship sailed in my thirties, along with my metabolism.
“Sorry, Josie, it slipped out! Think about something pleasant, like graham crackers. Ooh, or eat some saltine crackers! Those are good for morning sickness.”
“I’m perimenopausal, Piper, not pregnant!” I wince at the edge in my tone. “Sorry, I don’t mean to bite your head off. I’m just stressed. I still need to have the city come out to sign off on the renovations before I can open on Saturday. The timing’s so tight, I don’t know how it’s all going to come together.”
“It’ll work out, Josie. We’re all praying for you. Have faith.”
How ironic is it that Piper, who only found God a year ago, is telling me, a preacher’s kid, to have faith? Still, I appreciate the reminder. “I’ll try. Guess it’s time to do less worrying and more trusting.”
“Exactly. Doctor’s orders.”
“Thank you, Dr. Piper.”
I check my watch and glance out the storefront window. The sun’s already setting on this early December day, turning the sky into a palette of oranges and reds. The sight is so beautiful and mesmerizing, I have a hard time tearing my eyes away. Especially when a motorcycle zooms up and parks right in front of the shop.
Clang!
For a second, I think that’s the sound of my jaw hitting the floor, but when I glance down, it’s my phone I see. I don’t even bother to pick it up, because my attention is zeroed in on the man removing his helmet.
With his back to me, all I can glimpse are broad shoulders and a black bomber jacket. But it’s more than enough to get my heart racing.
“Josie? You still there?”
Piper’s voice breaks my trance. I snatch my phone off the floor. “I’m here. Sorry, I dropped you—my phone.”
“Are you okay? You sound out of breath.”
“I-I’m fine.” I force myself to turn away from the window lest I get caught staring. For all I know, I’ve been checking out a guy who could be young enough to be my son. “I saw a nice bike, that’s all.”
“A bike bike or a motorcycle bike?”
“The latter. A guy just pulled up on one.”
“Oh! It’s all starting to make sense. You love motorcycles as much as graham crackers. Did your Graham ride a bike, too?”
“Yep.” I sigh happily. “Wait, what do you mean, too?”
“The Graham we know loves to ride. He actually has a collection of bikes that he fixed up himself. From the way Peter describes it, it reminds me of you and your shoe obsession.”
“Ahem. It’s not an obsession, it’s an interest. A perfectly useful one. We wear shoes every day. I just like mine a little fancier.”
“Five inches fancier. It’s a good thing Graham’s tall. You could wear eight-inch heels and still fit into the crook of his arm.”
“I appreciate the thought, but don’t get your hopes up. I’ve got too much going on to have time for a relationship.”
“But having someone to share your burdens with could help ease your stress.”
“I’m good, Piper. Didn’t you say you had to go make dinner?”
“I didn’t, but I get your hint. Remember to text me later and tell me what you think of Graham, okay?”
“Girlfriend!”
“I mean in a purely platonic, plumbing-related kind of way!”
“Bye, Piper!”
The bell to the front door jingles as I hang up. I turn around, expecting to see a worker in coveralls and boots. Instead, I find myself face-to-face with Motorcycle Man.
Good golly.
He is gorgeous. He’s the very definition of rugged with a full beard like Santa’s—but a much hotter, sexier version of Santa. His salt-and-pepper hair falls across his forehead, looking slightly tousled from his h
elmet. Blue eyes that resemble a cloudless sky radiate warmth like a summer’s day. But it’s his smile that does me in. That smile, with a small mole below the right side of his mouth, makes my knees wobble. The only other guy I’ve ever known with a mole is the college boy I fell for when I was twelve. But the man before me is most definitely not a boy. He doesn’t look like a plumber either.
Who is he?
“C-can I help you?” I squeak out. “Are you lost?”
He shakes his head. “No, miss, I’m Graham. I’m here to have a look at your toilet.”
“You’re Peter’s plumber friend?”
“The one and only.” He cocks his head to the side as he studies my face. “You look familiar. Have we met before?”
“I don’t think so. Unless … what’s your last name, Graham?”
“Kendall.”
No! What are the chances? “You’re Graham Kendall?”
His eyes light up with recognition. “You’re Josephine Child! You’re Carol and Bob’s little girl. You followed me around the summer I stayed with your family.”
Heat rushes up my neck. “That was me.”
“You gave me your favorite stuffed bunny to sleep with.”
My cheeks are on fire. “Yes, I did.”
“And you asked me to marry you.”
I pray for the ground to crack open and swallow me whole. “You remember that?”
“How could I forget my first and only proposal? I know I turned you down before, but if you asked me again, the odds are higher that I’d say yes.”
Say what now?!
2
Graham
I’ve never been happier to see an old friend. Well, it might be a bit of a stretch to call Josephine a friend, but she was a piece of the best part of my youth.
The summer I spent at her parents’ house gave me a taste of family that I’d never experienced before. For most of my childhood, both my parents worked long hours to make ends meet. I was a latchkey kid who survived on cereal and Mac ’n’ Cheese. To this day, I still can’t stomach the taste or smell of cheese. But when I met the Child family, I instantly became a fan of PB&Js. I gained seven honorary siblings and learned how to share everything from the bathroom to household chores. I also grew to enjoy my little shadow, a young Josephine who fought to sit next to me and left me notes written with fruit-scented markers.