“More than I care to.” She considered her next words carefully. “I have to admit to being guilty of preconceptions. For instance, when I first saw you, I assumed you were a flirtatious, play-around firefighter with more female attention than you knew what to do with.”
His teasing smile returned. “You’re partially correct. I don’t know what to do with it all.”
She rolled her eyes. “So that’s why you had a whole gallery of potential dates displayed on your phone the other day?”
“How did you—”
“I’m always curious—you should know that about me. I saw you scrolling at the diner. That’s quite a selection of pretty ladies you have to choose from.”
That blush she was so fond of rose up his cheeks. “I’m taking the spontaneous approach to dating these days. Choosing randomly and seeing what sticks.”
“Has it worked?” She was dying to inquire about how his date had gone on Saturday, but she bit back the thought. It wasn’t any of her business, and a hint of interest could send the wrong message.
“I’ve discovered I have a lot more deal breakers than I could have imagined possible.”
She grinned. “Interesting. Having failed spectacularly in my own choice of potential mates, I could lie and say it only gets better, but I’ll go with ‘you’ll know when you find her’ instead.” It was the extent of her romantic advice.
“A mistress of clichés and platitudes.” He toasted her with his mug. “Well played. And since you’ve brought it up—”
“Only for comparison and connection of understanding,” she warned.
“I can’t let something like that dangle without comment.” He reached for her plate and glass and, to her astonishment, began to wash up. “I won’t tell anyone if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“It’s not.” Funny. It had never occurred to her that she couldn’t trust him. That was odd in itself. “It’s not that unique a story. Girl meets boy at work, girl and boy hit it off, boy decides it’s time for him to get married, girl agrees and they get engaged. Girl gets pregnant shortly before the wedding. Boy doesn’t want kids so he left.”
“Seems to me, being engaged and almost married would up the chances of that happening. The getting pregnant part, that is.”
Not willing to get into the particulars, she shrugged.
“So he knows about the baby?”
“Yes.” She didn’t think she’d ever forget the look of abject horror that appeared on Greg’s face when she’d told him the “good news.”
“Maybe it was only taking him time to get used to the idea.” Ozzy’s hands slowed under the running water.
“It wasn’t supposed to happen.” She sat back, rubbed her stomach. “Me, having kids. Doctors told me I couldn’t, and then when I found out I was pregnant, Greg said it wasn’t what he had signed on for. No pity, now,” she added with a warning glare. “Things work out how they’re meant to, and besides, I have him to thank for reminding me of what I’d obviously forgotten.”
“What’s that?”
“That the only person I can rely on is myself.”
Ozzy reached for a towel to dry the dishes. “That’s a pretty solitary line of thinking.”
“I speak as I find.” One of her favorite literary phrases. “Based on my own personal experience, it’s true. Men, people don’t stay. Particularly when things get rough or take an unexpected turn. It’s like they’re looking for an escape hatch and the second they find one, they’re gone.” And those who left her in other ways... Jo’s luck keeping people she cared about close seemed to be temporary at best.
“I believe a therapist would say that particular emotional wound stems from further back than a few months.”
“Said therapist would be correct.” Unable to get comfortable, she lowered her legs and stood up, stretching a bit before she went to the two-seater pullout sofa against the wall. “If this conversation continues, we’re going to end up sharing along those lines.” She curled one leg under her and looked directly at him, leaning her cheek on her hand. “You up for that?”
“I will take that as my cue to leave.” He gathered up the empty pie carrier, pushed open the door, but glanced over his shoulder. “We aren’t all bad, you know. Men. Some of us stick it out. Good times and bad. You never know, Greg might realize the mistakes he’s made.”
“That’s a nice sentiment, Ozzy.” Jo wanted to believe him, wished she could. “Even if he did, there’s no going backward. This is a reality I accepted a long time ago.” She checked her foot and saw the swelling had gone down, but not much.
“You’ll call the doctor and make an appointment?” he asked.
She rolled her eyes. “Yes, Ozzy. I’ll call the doctor. Now shoo. I’ve got to figure out a way to get dressed.”
His smile lit up his entire handsome face and lightened her heart. “If you need help with that—”
“Go!” She pushed herself off the sofa and shoved him playfully out the door.
CHAPTER SEVEN
NEVER IN HIS wildest imagination would Ozzy have ever pictured himself having lunch with Gil Hamilton in his mayoral office while teaching him to play backgammon. His quiet, introvert teenage self wouldn’t have believed it—hanging out with the most popular kid in town. He would have accused present-day Ozzy of having delusions of grandeur. Nevertheless, that was precisely how he was spending his afternoon.
“You aren’t looking at the entire board.” Ozzy pointed to the exposed solitary piece ripe for the taking.
“Right,” Gil murmured with an absent nod and seemed to rethink his position. He reached for the remnants of his lunch, plucking up a salt and vinegar chip and popping it into his mouth. The ensuing crunch echoed in the massive office. “I’ve seen kids play this game effortlessly. Why does it seem so hard?”
“Because you’re trying too hard to win.” One of Ozzy’s early lessons. Sometimes you need to focus on staying in the game until an opportunity presents itself to seize a victory.
“Every game is going to be different. You can’t beat Harvey, or anyone, with a predictable, memorized strategy. Besides...” Ozzy finished his iced tea and dropped the empty cup into the trash. “Harvey’s been playing longer than either of us has been alive. The only way to compete with that is to play and practice as much as you can.”
“I’m confused. Are you saying you play the player or the game?”
“In poker you play the player.” Something Ozzy had learned when he’d joined in on Sheriff Saxon’s Thursday night poker games. Since he’d been working as a firefighter, he was frequently on shift Thursday nights, which meant he missed out. One of the trade-offs he’d had to make. “In backgammon, whatever you want to do is at the mercy of the die.”
“Maybe I should have taken up something easier, like chess.”
Ozzy chuckled. He wasn’t about to admit to having earned trophies playing that game too. Backgammon was enough of a challenge for Gil. “In chess, you focus on creating your own method using logical thinking. Planning a few moves ahead, depending on what you anticipate your opponent might do, keeps you sharp and focused.” He hesitated. “Couldn’t hurt to do that in real life, too.”
Ozzy was so distracted giving advice he was caught off guard when Gil knocked one of Ozzy’s pieces into the center of the board.
“Good catch,” Ozzy said and rolled himself free with double sixes. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be.” Gil waved off his concern. “Even a false bump of confidence is a bump. Something specific on your mind, Oz?”
So much, Ozzy thought. “Are you planning on reinstalling the security cameras up at the construction site?”
Whatever Gil had been expecting Ozzy to say, obviously that wasn’t it. “I had planned to, but it was one of the first things Jo nixed when we spoke. Why?” Gil frowned. “You think it’s necessary?”
&nbs
p; “I think if it was necessary before she got here, then it’s no different now. Maybe it’s more necessary, since she’s up there all alone.”
“All right.” Gil nodded. “I’ll tell her I’ve reconsidered. Better to be safe than sorry.”
An unexpected weight lifted off Ozzy’s shoulders, even as he reminded himself to be cautious about possibly pushing too much where Jo was concerned. “She won’t be happy about it.”
“Fortunately, that’s one area with respect to folks that I have vast experience with.” Gil’s gaze shifted back to the board. “Anything else you want to talk about?”
“Not really.”
“How about asking me what my ulterior motive is?”
“With Jo?”
It must have been the way he’d said it, unintentionally, with a warning edge that had Gil arching a brow. “With these backgammon lessons. Ah, now that’s better.” Rolling a double four had Gil shifting pieces out of danger. “Lucky roll.” But that was part of the game. Ozzy quickly countered, knocked not one, but two of Gil’s pieces off the board, and slid his last piece into place.
Earlier, Gil would have visibly resented his defeat, now, he steepled his fingers below his chin and examined the final arrangement of pieces. “Well, it wasn’t quite the bloodbath it could have been. Thanks, Oz.”
“No problem.” Ozzy got to his feet and gathered up the last of his trash. “Trust me, you can hold your own against Harvey. Not letting him intimidate you is step one.”
“Do I intimidate people?”
Ozzy didn’t answer right away.
“I read the polls, Oz. And I have ears. What do I have to do to get people back on my side?”
Ah, here it is. The real reason Gil had asked him to come to the office. He wanted inside information. “That depends. Do you mean vote for you?”
Gil’s expression didn’t shift. “I’d appreciate someone telling me the truth as opposed to saying something they think I want to hear.”
Ozzy nearly quoted a certain military trial movie, but refrained. “It’s only my opinion, but it’s difficult to maintain a positive connection with people you seem incapable of seeing.”
“Is that what people think? That I don’t see them? That I’m only in this for myself? Is that what you think?”
“Yes, frankly.” Because Gil remained where he was, Ozzy kept standing, shoved his hands into his pockets and rocked on his heels. “I’ve watched you from a few perspectives. First as schoolmate and then as a sheriff’s deputy and now as a firefighter. I’ve also seen you from the point of view of a son of a city worker who was forced to take early retirement because of your cutbacks.” The wall of control Ozzy kept in place threatened to crumble.
“You govern from a distance, exactly how you existed when we were younger. You were the banker’s kid, the mayor’s son. The chosen one who had everything handed to him and could never relate to the difficulties anyone else was going through. You never asked what anyone thought or what anyone wanted, but rather made decisions based on what you heard or what you were told and whatever improved the bottom line. Cutting budgets, eliminating jobs, making things more difficult when you didn’t have to? Without asking people for alternatives that would cause less damage? That isn’t seeing people, Gil. That’s bulldozing right over them.” Ozzy cleared his throat. “Sorry if that sounds harsh, but you did ask.”
“I suppose that’s clear enough.” Gil’s voice was tight, about as tight and taut as his jaw as he flicked his gaze from Ozzy to the desk. “One might argue that people’s perspectives could be a bit skewed. Contrary to how you see things, I can promise you not everything on my side of the desk has been easy or that cut-and-dry. But I appreciate the honesty.”
“If I might add one more thing?” Ozzy didn’t have anything to lose at this point. “A massive pivot in the opposite direction isn’t going to win you votes, Gil. It would be seen as a panic move with you doing whatever you think you need to in order to stay mayor. And I doubt there are many who will trust you mean what you say, anyway.”
“So I’ve already lost?”
Ozzy could easily twist the knife by telling Gil that he didn’t know anyone who planned to vote for the mayor, but that wasn’t who he was. “If you want a chance at winning, it’s time for you to climb out of the ivory tower your father placed you in the day you were born and get to know how the people in your town really live. Be a better human being, Gil. But don’t shine a light on it. Just do it. It might provide a softer landing at the end however the election turns out.”
“In another life you would have made an excellent campaign manager, Ozzy.” Gil took a deep breath. “Gives me a lot to consider. Again, I appreciate your time.” He pointed to the board. “Would you be up for another game?”
“But I thought the backgammon—”
“Was a ruse? Oh, it was.” Gil’s all-charm, no-harm smile was back in place. “But I also enjoyed this more than I expected. Same time next week?”
“Sure.” Ozzy shrugged. “Why not.”
* * *
“TIME FOR LUNCH!”
Jo glanced up from her computer screen when the trailer door popped open and Jed stuck his head in, his brow raised. “You go on,” she told Kyle, who was already reaching for his crutches. She returned her attention to the pavement stones that would double as donation markers in the meditation garden. “I want to finish this before—”
“Paperwork can wait,” Jed said without missing a beat. “It’s Thursday.”
“Thursday’s gyro day on the food truck.” Kyle’s pronouncement made it seem as though that explained everything.
Jo waved them on. “You guys go ahead. I’ll grab something late—oh.” Jed was suddenly standing in front of her, holding the plug to her computer in his hand, threatening to pull it out of the socket.
“Gyro day is a treat, and besides, you’ve been holed up in here all week. The crew’s beginning to think you’re more a mirage than a sentient life-form.”
That was by design. She didn’t need anyone getting attached to her. And she certainly didn’t want to be doing any attaching herself. But she appreciated the sentiment. What interaction she did have with the crew had been professional and agreeable. She was beginning to think the issues they’d had here had been a major fluke of the universe. “If lunch is that important you can just bring me—”
“The crew’s chomping at the bit to get their hands on those excavators and backhoes that are sitting there waiting for action,” Jed said. “Put them to work already. After lunch. Which you should have with them if only to check out the job they’ve done with the playground.”
Jo set her pen down. “They’re finished already?”
“When you give them the go, they go,” Jed confirmed. “I told you, they’re bored. My crew likes to work, Jo. You need to let them.”
Jo angled a look at her foreman. “What else did you have in mind?”
“Let’s discuss it over lunch.” He held up the still-connected cord. “Don’t make me pull the plug.”
Kyle chuckled and slowly made his way outside.
“Fine.” It would take less time to agree and eat than it would to argue. She spun her chair and scooted her feet out, grimacing at the sight of the laces she’d been unable to tie the last few mornings. She bent over as far as she could and stuffed the ends into the top of her steel-toed work boots, reminding herself once again she needed to shop for some new comfortable work shoes. She stood up and stretched and nearly sighed in relief as Jed released the cord. “These better be some pretty good gyros.”
“Best you’ll find around here.”
She grabbed her yellow hard hat from the hook by the door and stuck it on her head.
“Mario’s asked for Saturday and Monday off,” Jed told her as she exited the trailer. Feeling a bit like a vampire being lured from her lair, Jo shielded her eyes fr
om the sun. “His wife has a conference in San Francisco this weekend and their sitter had to cancel.”
“Shouldn’t be an issue.” After only a few days of working with Jed, she knew the foreman wouldn’t be implying his approval if he didn’t have the shift covered. They’d be getting down to serious work come Monday when all the deliveries she was expecting arrived. “Cement truck’s on schedule last I heard. We have someone to cover?”
“Nestor and Carl have offered to fill in. It’ll mean overtime for both of them.”
“Consider it approved.” So far she hadn’t needed to send out an SOS to her Bay Area people, and that was good news. “We get that cement poured and the pylons in before Monday, we have a good chance of getting ahead next week.”
After taking a quick look at the playground area, which had been neatly framed out with planks cut from the trees that had been removed for the sanctuary, she wondered again if she was being too optimistic about getting that completed along with the main structure. It had to be doable; she just needed to find the funds to make it happen. She’d already noticed the tendency of some of the schoolkids to stop by the site on their way home. It was only a matter of time before they got more curious and probably adventurous. They needed a distraction or at least someplace to hang out while they observed the construction process.
“We were able to expand the framing out by another eight cubic feet,” Jed told her. “Hope that’s okay.”
“Should be fine.” The plans had allowed for that kind of wiggle room. She sniffed the air and felt herself start to swoon. “Is that lunch?”
“That is Thursday’s heaven on a plate,” Jed confirmed with a grin. “This is also me not saying I told you so.”
“Glad you’re holding yourself back,” Jo laughed and joined the lineup of workers waiting for their serving of roasted beef and lamb served in soft, hot fresh-baked pitas.
Having gotten a look at Flutterby Wheels, the food truck painted with bright flowers and multicolored butterflies, earlier in the week, she’d been inspired to buy out Harvey’s hardware store of their spray paint on clearance.
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