by Jean Oram
Logan Stone handed over his debit card, his gaze locked on the soccer game playing on the TV above the bar, and Moe mindlessly swiped it through the machine before handing it back.
“I’m so glad you two got over your fears,” Logan’s wife, Ginger, said to Moe, her gaze leading his to Amy. She was wearing a dark pink V-neck that hugged her curves and brought out a healthy glow in her cheeks. She was gorgeous, and she was his in name.
But he wanted more. He wanted it all. Her heart. Her love.
He didn’t have that.
Not yet.
“Our fears?” he asked, unable to fully focus on Ginger’s words.
“You two have everything you need for a strong, happy, healthy marriage.”
“Except one big thing,” Moe tactfully pointed out, pulling the empty beer steins from in front of Logan and his business partner, Zach, who was seated to his right. Moe kept the glasses in front of him, ready to use them as part of his “I’m busy” escape routine if need be. The dishwasher was enough steps away that it would break the conversation.
Ginger quirked her head. “Are you kidding me? Are you two still acting like this?”
“Like what?”
Logan gave him a look as if to say, “Don’t play cute, it won’t work, mate.”
“You two are still too afraid to acknowledge the big L word?”
“Ginge, you need glasses.” And maybe fewer drinks with her meal next time.
She took the two empty beer steins he’d been keeping in front of him, and held them up, looking through their bottoms. “I can see just fine, thanks.”
Moe chuckled. “Keep dreaming, girl.”
She pouted. “Oh, come on. I’m never wrong. Even the one time I thought I might be with Ashton and Zoe, back in Indigo Bay, it turned out I was right.” She banged a fist into her palm. “Come on, man. Make it happen! Let go. Tell her you love her. You’re putting up this wall like you’re afraid if you show her that you love her, she’ll leave you.”
Moe shoved a fresh stick of gum in his mouth. “You’re seeing things that aren’t there.” He picked up the empty steins. Logan and Zach gave a simultaneous groan over something happening in the soccer match.
“It’s my superpower to see things couples can’t. Just wait and see. I’m right!” Ginger insisted.
“Is she always like this after two drinks?” Moe asked Logan, knowing she was.
“Right about couples?” he asked, his attention back on them, his Australian accent thicker, as it usually was when he thought about his “sheila.” He leaned over to place a kiss on his wife’s cheek. “Uncannily so.”
So much for the support Moe was seeking.
“She hasn’t found me anyone yet,” Zach complained from his spot beside Logan.
“I’m working on it,” she said, leaning around her husband to address him. “You’re a tough one.”
“I’m going to order a nice wife from Russia,” Zach proclaimed, pushing his sizable build off his stool. He clapped Logan on the shoulder. “Thanks for the drinks.”
“Stay away from the internet until they’ve worn off,” he suggested.
“I’m fine.” The man wobbled on his feet before correcting his balance.
“He driving?” Moe asked.
Logan dangled a ring of keys from his fingers.
“Good.”
“He’s having a tough time with the career change,” Logan said with a heavy sigh. “Been handling it with a heavy dose of online shopping and the gym.”
Moe nodded as though he understood. He didn’t know Zach’s full story, but the fact that life wasn’t going the way he needed it to was obvious to anyone familiar with the human race.
“You two are so happy together,” Ginger said, taking up the topic of Moe and Amy again like she was a bulldog with a particularly tasty bone. “You’re the right fit and I can see you getting closer. This is where you guys always pull away from each other, but you won’t this time. I can feel it. I can see it.”
This was indeed about the time he and Amy usually slipped back into the friend zone. Which was what they needed, and wanted. This time and every time. No proclamations of love.
“Plus,” she added, “it’s harder to pull away from each other when you have to share a bed each night.”
Wait. She knew Amy’s bed was missing? Sure, lots of locals did, since they’d been trying to track it down. But the way she’d said it… “What was that about her bed?”
Ginger turned redder than her auburn curls.
“You stole Amy’s bed!” Moe leaned against the bar. “What do we have to do to get it back?”
She bit her bottom lip, eyes shooting to the side, obviously hopeful that her husband would step in and save her.
“Um. We know nothing,” Ginger said.
“That’s true,” Logan said, standing up and tucking his wallet in his back pocket. They probably didn’t have room for it in the cramped apartment above Ginger’s bridal shop, but that didn’t mean they were innocent.
“So where is it?” Moe asked.
Ginger shrugged.
“How do we get it back?”
She darted away and Logan gave Moe a sympathetic look. He began ushering his wife toward the doors, but she hurried back, saying quickly, “Devon has it. They had company coming and figured Amy wouldn’t need it.” She gave him a sheepish look, her nose scrunching. “You know. Newlyweds. No need for a second bed…kind of like a little nudge in the right direction…”
“How thoughtful.”
“Come on, babe,” Logan said, having come to retrieve her.
“It’ll be back soon!” Ginger called from the doorway.
Moe cleared their glasses while shaking his head. Amy came to stand at his side, close enough that their shoulders brushed.
“Ginger was in rare matchmaking form tonight, wasn’t she?” Amy asked. “I heard her giving you the gears.”
“This,” he said, pointing to her shoulder, then his own, illustrating how she was well within his personal zone, “is why she thinks we’re meant to be.”
“So I should stand farther away?” Amy sidestepped, putting at least a foot of space between them.
Moe moved nearer so that their shoulders touched again. “I like it when you stand close. Don’t change for her.”
“Okay.” Amy smiled, then rolled up onto her toes and placed a big kiss on his forehead.
“What’s that for?”
“Why do you always ask that?”
“Because I want to figure out how to get more of them.” He winked and lowered his voice so it was nice and gravelly. “And then how to get you to aim lower so they land right here.” He tapped his mouth.
Amy gave a sassy shoulder sway that made him want to grab her and tickle her. Anything to be close to her, to inhale her scent and feel her bubbly laugh.
“But I think I have a plan for that,” he said.
She had been reaching for a glass on the rack under the bar, and paused, head quirked to the side. “Oh?”
“Babies. I’m starting to think we need to have about twenty of them. And as for that fertility calendar you have? I believe it’s wrong. I think we ought to cover our bases and go at it all the time. Just in case.”
Amy laughed, her cheeks pink, her grin wide. She picked up the soda dispenser, squeezing the handle and sending a stream of club soda at him.
He ducked and laughed. “You did not just do that!”
He lunged at her and she squealed, dropping the dispenser as she bolted to the end of the bar. This wasn’t the first time they’d gotten into a sprayer fight. And it wouldn’t be the last.
He shook the soda out of his hair and slowly moved toward her as though stalking prey. She was trembling, her eyes dancing. He loved it when they played, and it felt like they hadn’t for ages. Everything had been too serious lately, and being with Amy like this always allowed reality to fall away, until it was just the two of them riding on a wave of giddy happiness.
He picked u
p the abandoned soda dispenser and aimed it at Amy. “How far do you think this thing can spray?”
“Not this far,” she said confidently. It was true. She should be securely in the safe zone. But what she didn’t know was that he had upped the pressure earlier in the day, having a feeling that their banter might land them here before the end of their shift.
“How sure are you?” he taunted.
“So sure that if you spray me from there, I’ll kiss you. On the lips. In front of everyone.”
It was a good thing Ginger had left, or she’d get the wrong idea about what was about to happen.
The people lined up at the bar hooted and cheered, with Mary Alice immediately taking bets. She slapped down a twenty and the pile of cash immediately grew.
“What are the odds?” Moe asked.
“Who cares? We just want to see you two kiss,” Mary Alice proclaimed.
Moe set down the dispenser and everyone booed.
“I’m not sure Amy knows what she’s getting herself into.” Kissing in public would definitely break a few of their rules. Not just the kiss, but the fact that they might not be able to stop.
Amy began clucking like a chicken, her hands tucked in her armpits to form wings. She began doing an adorable little head bob, her knees coming up in time with her bobbing head.
In a flash, Moe lifted the dispenser and shot a stream straight at her.
She squealed, the shot getting her in the eye. Moe was at her side in a flash.
“Are you okay?” He began dabbing her face with the hem of his shirt, but she pushed him off, shielding her eye.
“Did you increase the pressure? That causes leaks in the hose!”
It had seemed like a good idea at the time.
“I’m so sorry. Are you okay?” He looked around the pub, wondering if Nash was still in the room and could take a peek to make sure her eye was all right.
“No. It hurts and stings. Who shoots somebody in the eye with soda?”
“Would this be a bad time to cash in on that kiss you owe me?”
Amy scowled and Moe stepped back, hands raised in defeat. Behind them Mary Alice was distributing the bet money, shushing those who were complaining about the fact that there’d been no kiss.
Moe heard her say, “Give them time, give them time. It’s coming.”
“What’s going on?” The voice he heard next quieted the bar. It was cool, commanding, and definitely Kimi. She was wearing a pale blue business suit that made her look serious and in charge. Or maybe it was how the crowd gathered at the bar had parted for her, and the way she stood there with her hands on her hips.
Amy was milking her hurt eye to the fullest extent. After Kimi had panicked about the two of them wasting inventory—did that woman ever actually work in her own pub? She kept insisting if she spent enough time at Brew Babies she could absorb the vibe and somehow bring it to Brew, Too—Nash had prescribed Amy some eyedrops, as well as a patch to wear for a day or two, just to be safe. While Nash had been caring for Amy, she’d overheard Moe gently sending Kimi back to her own pub, giving her a list of business suggestions that would keep her busy and out of their hair for at least a day or two.
“Aye, matey,” Moe said rather sheepishly, joining her in the living room. “Time for your eyedrops?”
“Will you put them in for me?”
He sat beside her on the couch and she put her head in his lap, looking up at him. He gently lifted her patch, then delicately pinning her eyelids so he could squeeze in two drops. She flinched at the coldness.
“Are you okay?” Moe asked.
She nodded and relaxed again, enjoying being cozied up against him. “You’re going to make a great dad.”
“If we can get you knocked up.” He replaced the patch over her eye, his expression so serious and tender it made her feel inexplicably shy.
“It has been fun trying, right?” Heat spread to her cheeks as she thought of the last time and how intimate and special it had felt. The trust and love that had been present had rocked her sideways. It was as though getting married had somehow amplified all her emotions. At the same time, her need to prove herself and go looking for the next exciting thing seemed to have waned. But she still couldn’t seem to help wondering if Moe felt the same way—that this was good, special.
“What are you thinking?” he asked, screwing the cap back on the drops.
She hesitated for a moment, then said, “Kimi’s a bit of a killjoy.”
The woman was so afraid the estate was going to deem Moe a poor and wasteful manager, stealing away her partnership with the one pub most likely to survive the estate’s mandated trial period. If she lost this partnership, she also lost the ability to latch on to this income stream—even though he was planning to bump her out once he had a firm grasp on the reins. Kimi didn’t realize that the two of them spraying each other with soda was the kind of shenanigans that had always made the pub a fun and thriving place when Cesar had been alive, and that surely the estate’s executor wouldn’t get his undies in a twist over something so minor.
She also probably didn’t realize that if she let her hair down and had some fun over at Brew, Too, the business might turn around a little faster.
“Try dating her,” Moe said wryly. He reached over Amy to place the drops on the coffee table.
“You two dated?”
He glanced at her thoughtfully, then away. “I never told you?”
“No.” She sat up. It kind of felt like a big deal. One of those things you tell your wife. Even with a marriage pledge.
“When did you date?”
“Almost ten years ago.”
The first breakup sundae. It had been about a decade ago, and she’d made it after he’d broken up with someone from the city. Kimi.
“How long did you date?”
“About a year.”
A year. That was a lot longer than she and Moe had ever lasted.
“You two are very much alike,” she teased. “The perfect couple.”
Moe made a face.
“What happened?”
“She wanted more.”
“More?”
“Marriage,” he said, shifting uncomfortably and clearing his throat.
“And you said no?”
“I said no.”
“That must have been awkward with you and Cesar.”
“He was cool about it and seemed to understand.”
“She’d be back in your pants in a heartbeat if you let her.”
The surprise on Moe’s face couldn’t be faked and almost made her laugh, it was so sincere. “The only one allowed in my pants is my wife.”
“You know if you find someone…”
“If you’re going to say I can step out on you,” Moe warned, his eyes flashing, “save your breath. It doesn’t matter what our marriage is like, our kids will not grow up thinking it’s okay for the man in the family to have a woman on the side. How can we teach our children to respect the opposite sex and honor commitment and relationships if I’m out gallivanting?”
His earnestness made her heart swell with gratitude. “What if you discover true love?”
A small voice inside her asked why she couldn’t be his true love. Why couldn’t they stay in a relationship for longer than a month or two?
Because it always fizzles, not sizzles, she reminded herself. He was perfect, just not the perfect man for her.
Although lately things had been sizzling. Here and there. When they didn’t put a stop to it. Why did they do that, anyway?
Stupid marriage pledge rules.
“If I fall in love, I’ll let you know and we’ll deal with it then,” he said, his tone making it clear that he didn’t like the topic. He linked his fingers with hers, his voice losing its irritated edge. “In the meantime, I’m here and I’m yours.”
That statement shouldn’t make her shoulders relax and her heart beat faster, but it did. Even though she knew he meant only as friends and pledge partners.
“Now, are you gonna do those dishes since I cooked supper, or do I have to make you walk the plank?” Moe asked, tapping her plastic patch.
She leaned closer, her knee pressing against his. “I bet you’re hoping I still have this when it’s ovulation time again.”
“I’m pretty sure acting on any fetishes or role-playing in the sack would break a bunch of our rules.” His chest had expanded, everything about him tightening as his eyes darkened with what she could have sworn was something. Something she’d love to explore.
“You need to live a little,” she said. They were watching each other, a spell quietly weaving around them. She knew she should look away, get off the couch, but she didn’t want to. She was ensnared, mesmerized by their closeness, curious about what would happen next.
“That’s the Amy I love,” he said warmly. “Always up for an adventure.”
“And the Moe I love is a stable life force who makes me feel as though the world is a wonderful place.”
“Uh-oh.”
“What?”
“You just keep on breaking those rules, like the naughty pirate you are.”
“What rule?”
“You said the Moe I love.”
“As a friend!” She sat back, the spell breaking. “And you said it first.”
“Admit it.” He tilted his body closer, his arms holding her tight so she couldn’t move, his breath warm on her shoulder and all too tempting. “I’m the man of your dreams. You just haven’t let go yet. You crave and need a stable, wonderful man in your life.”
She shivered, the anticipation and longing building inside her. “And you need more adventure.”
“I agree.”
Someone rang the doorbell and she sucked in a breath. Neither of them moved.
Finally she said, “Are you going to answer that?”
“Nope.”
She slipped off the couch and out of his arms, heading for the door. If she wasn’t careful, she was going to find herself in bed with him. She flung open the door. Nobody was there. But on the front walk was her queen-size bed.
“My bed’s back.” Her voice sounded hollow to her own ears, and tinged with disappointment. Moe had come up beside her, resting a hand on her shoulder. She wanted to joke, but his tender look of loss took the temptation away. She watched him silently, trying to sort out the weighty mix of feelings pulling at her.