The night after his soccer game when they made love in his bed had been a clear game-changer. Before that they’d kept things hot and heavy and away from the intimacy of the bedroom. Those hours spent tangled up together, surrounded by the crisp scent of his sheets and the heavy musk of their love-making still glistening on their naked flesh...they’d been the most honest and beautiful hours of her life.
But if she was being honest with herself, she’d stopped seeing Tony as “a friend she had sex with” and started seeing him as “a lover she had an unbreakable friendship with” long before that. She’d simply been vigilant about not allowing herself to analyze any part of it. After all, how could it be true if she never realized the truth?
“That’s some tree-falling-in-the-forest bullshit right there,” she grumbled.
“Personally, I’ve always thought the trees don’t actually fall when no one’s around.” Trish looked up to find Jason sitting on a stool in front of her with his perpetual dimpled smile that would have marked him as a rake from a mile away had he lived in Regency England. “Who wants to go through all that trouble without an audience, right?”
He reached over the bar and speared a green olive with a toothpick, popping it into his mouth and chewing it with the same enthusiasm he seemed to do with everything. She offered him a weak smile. Pretending everything was coming up roses wasn’t necessary around Jason, so she took advantage and gave her feigned contentment a rest.
“Hi, Jason. I’m surprised to see you. Aren’t you reffing at the youth soccer tournament today with...?” Why she couldn’t bring herself to say his name aloud was beyond her. Though, if she had to take a stab at a guess, it might have something to do with the fact he’d purposely stayed away from Paddy’s and avoided her attempts to talk to him since she turned his proposal down.
“Nah, they had enough people to cover it, and I didn’t feel like being in the sun for five hours straight.”
“Can I get you something?”
“Usual,” he answered, and she walked to the cooler and pulled out a Point. “So word on the street is you’re shipping out to Chi-Town on Monday.”
Trish paused for a moment, surprised. Popping the top for him, she set the bottle in front of him. “Yeah, I called my friend last week and told her I’d make a go of her dress shop with her. I’ve stayed here a lot longer than planned.” She grabbed a couple dirty glasses and placed them in the sink. “It’s time I move on with my life.”
“You know that ‘moving on with your life’ and ‘moving out of town’ aren’t mutually exclusive, right?” She stopped folding and refolding the damp bar towel and peeked up at him through her lashes. Jason gentled his voice and his expression turned serious for the first time around her. “You don’t have to move away to move on, Trish.”
Dropping the rag, she snorted. “There’s nothing here for me, Jason. I can’t make a career out of waitressing, and even if I miraculously had a desirable way of making a living, I could never stay here. I hate small town life, always have.”
His blue eyes squinted in thought over the brown bottle as he tipped it up for a drink. “You sure about that? Because from the few months I’ve known you, I never would’ve guessed that for a minute. What I have seen is a woman who’s comfortable in her surroundings and quick with a smile and warm hello to anyone she passes.”
Trish sighed. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do, Jason, but being comfortable in my hometown and friendly with its people doesn’t mean I like living here.”
“You’re right, it doesn’t,” he admitted, sliding off his stool and heading to a table recently abandoned by customers. He gathered the glasses together and started carrying them to the bar. “I could prove my point with more detailed examples.”
Trish took the glasses he’d bussed and started dunking them in the soapy water while watching him go back for more dishes. What a brat. He’d dropped that line knowing full well she’d bite. Sweeping a quick look at the three tables currently occupied to make sure no one appeared to need anything, she braced her hands on the edge of the sturdy oak counter and narrowed her eyes at the man returning with the rest of the stuff from the table.
“Okay, I give. Tell me these supposed detailed examples you have.”
He smiled, showing off his dimples. “Curiosity get the better of you?”
“Honestly, I don’t think you have anything, so I’m calling your bluff.”
Jason clapped his hands once and rubbed them together in anticipation. Then he mirrored her stance, gripping the edge of the bar, and began giving her an account of events like a computer spitting out data.
“Shortly after you moved back home, you overheard one of your customers talking about how she wouldn’t be able to plant flowers around her house this year due to the surgery she was scheduled to have on both wrists. You could’ve ignored it, after all she wasn’t talking to you, but instead you approached her and offered to plant well over two hundred tiny annuals in her flower beds and then also ended up weeding and cutting her grass on your free day from work. From what I heard, Mrs. Beran was so thankful that she sent you a lovely card and a gift certificate from the Chamber of Commerce, which you then spent treating the Shark Bytes to a post-game treat at Frosty Freeze.”
Trish’s mouth gaped as she stared at him.
“How about the fact that you took your niece and nephew to see every performance that came to the high school. A Capella groups, musicals, the hypnotist dude, comedy shows, and whatever else they booked there over the summer. You also made dates with each of them on separate weeks for some one-on-one time.
“Then there’s the kid sporting events. You asked Erin to work around your nephew’s baseball games and made sure you were front row for every game, shouting and cheering louder than anyone else in the bleachers. On the days you didn’t have to work during Tony’s kids’ games and even Tony’s games, you made every one of those, too. You didn’t choose to be somewhere else, and you can’t even say you attended out of kindness because you got into those games every bit as much as the parents.
“Shall I go on?” he asked with a cocky arch of his brow. “Because I can. For quite a while. I haven’t even gotten to July yet.”
Still in shock, Trish shook her head. Small town gossip was one thing, but this was ridiculous. “That’s creepy, Jason. How do you know all that?”
“Well...” Glancing over his shoulder at the customers behind him, he made sure no one was eavesdropping. “Unlike you, I haven’t been distracted by a partner to share my bed with, and that gives me time to notice everything around me. I’m a carefree, flirtatious joker—to a fault—but not even a blind man could miss how happy you’ve been since you’ve been here.”
“And no one ever suspects the Good Time Charlie to be paying attention,” she said in awe. His smile now beamed back at her, framed by his dimples.
Trish speared her hair with her fingers, trying to wrap her mind around everything she’d just heard and the idea that apparently there’s plenty more. Suddenly she felt stifled and a dull ache started pulsing in her temples. “I, um—” She cleared her throat. “I need some air. Can you...?”
Jason jerked his head in the direction of the door. “I’ll cover you. Take your time.” She didn’t waste a second skirting around the end of the counter. “Hey,” he said, catching her arm before she could pass him. She met his eyes and saw true concern. “I’m sorry if I upset you. You know that’s not my intention, right?”
Covering his hand with hers, Trish gave him a light squeeze and an understanding nod before walking briskly to the front entrance. It wasn’t until she stepped from the air-conditioned pub into the oppressing humidity outside that she could finally drag air into her lungs.
She moved to the corner of the building and leaned back against the bricks. Tilting her face to the sun, Trish closed her eyes and focused on taking slow, deep breaths. In the wake of everything Jason recounted, she couldn’t continue to claim she hated small town life, or at l
east not in Fort Atkinson. Thinking back on how she spent her summer, she was helpless to stop the smile—the first real one in weeks—that reflected the emotions rising inside her.
How had she not realized before now? She’d truly been happy the past few months. Sure, the town had a gossip mill the size of Texas, and everyone at some point found themselves smack in the middle of it. But it was in that same manner that the community heard about others in need and then banded together to form a network of support and help.
A part of her would miss the excitement of the big city where the entertainment options were endless and the billboards lit up the streets at night like a Technicolor version of the day. But it wasn’t as though she was locked within the walls of Fort like some townie prisoner. If she wanted big city options, there were plenty within driving distance.
Beyond that, her little town had a lot of things to offer that weren’t possible when she lived in New York. Things like the outdoor theater on the outskirts of town where the bed of a truck easily transformed into an actual bed for a double feature movie date under the stars.
God, the stars. They were nothing short of magnificent on a clear night. Trish had always loved lying on her back in the soft grass, ankles crossed and hands folded over her stomach, as she searched for the constellations she knew of and made up names and stories for the ones she didn’t.
Thankfully, light pollution hadn’t tainted their little corner of the world. A dull orange cast over New York City like a dome, separating it from the rest of the universe, and had always made her wistful. The only orange glow out here belonged to the sunset, its bright streak painted over the horizon, bleeding into slashes of pink, purple, and red. Then, at dusk, the fireflies blinked on and off, challenging the kids—or the big kids at heart—to play the old-as-time game of catch and release. As night wore on, they grew more and more scarce until finally turning the evening over to the brilliance of the stars overhead.
Damn it. She did love it here. But even so, she couldn’t stay. One of the small town drawbacks was seeing people you knew no matter where you went. With as involved as Tony was in the community, she was guaranteed to be in the same place at the same time as him, and with everything she’d already put him through, she’d not make him uncomfortable in his own town. So, to that end, her plan for moving to Chicago in two days was still a go. But now she’d be doing it with the knowledge that she’d rather stay. Too bad she didn’t have anything worth staying for.
“Trish?”
Oh, no. No-no-no-no-no! With her eyes still closed, she squeezed them tight and prayed like hell. Please, dear God, let this be a bad dream. Turn it into a nightmare if you want, just please don’t let it be real.
“It is you.” The man’s voice she knew almost better than her own couldn’t have been more than a few feet away. Then she felt a shadow fall over her and she knew it was no dream, good, bad, or otherwise. This was really happening.
Reluctantly, Trish opened her eyes to find Nick standing before her. His face lit up with obvious joy at having found her, though why he was looking in the first place she couldn’t imagine.
“Jesus, Nick, what the hell are you doing here?”
A brief wince interrupted his happiness. “I suppose I deserve that.”
She barked out a humorless laugh. “You suppose you deserve that? Are you fucking kidding me?” Trish pushed off the building to stand tall and revel in the anger now coursing through her like lightning. “Over nine years together and you never once came with me to see my hometown or meet my family and friends. But almost six months after you break up with me and send me packing halfway across the country you decide, what, to take a quick trip out to say ‘hi’ for old times’ sake?”
“Yes. I mean, no, I didn’t come all the way out here just to say ‘hi’, obviously,” Nick said with a tinge of irritation. “That’d be a little extreme, don’t you think?”
“I’m thinking a whole lot of things right now, but I doubt you’d want me to voice any of them.” Trish crossed her arms over her chest in an attempt to appear bigger or stronger. That’s what cornered animals did, all while trembling on the inside from anxiety and fear of the unknown. “So why don’t you tell me why you are here, Nick, and then you can go back to New York where you belong.”
He expelled a heavy sigh and rubbed the back of his neck, something he did when he needed a few moments to gather his thoughts before speaking. Finally, he steepled his hands and rested his fingers on his mouth as he studied her, probably looking for her fleshy underbelly where he could strike her down with the least amount of effort. Well, she’d be damned if she’d show him anything. As far as he was concerned, she was covered from head to toe in thick, impenetrable scales. Good luck, asshole.
“I’ve reconsidered our situation. Almost a decade of life together is too much to throw away because of some minor differences in what we want.” Nick took a deep breath, carefully lowered to one knee—wincing upon contact, she knew, from the idea of his designer dress slacks touching a dirty sidewalk—then retrieved a ring box from his pocket and held it up as he snapped it open. “Trish Lynn Howell, will you do me the great honor of being my wife?”
She must be getting Punk’d. It was the only explanation, because this was the most fucked up shit she could think of happening. For years, her greatest desire was to be engaged to a man she loved and start the next chapter of their life together. Now she had two proposals in as many weeks that she didn’t want, and in two days, she planned on moving to Chicago to start a new and very non-affianced life.
What. The. Fuck.
“What do you say, Trishy?” Standing up, he thoroughly brushed off the knee of his pants before straightening and giving her his attention. “Let’s go home. I took care of your flight. All you need is an overnight bag, and we’ll have what little is left of your things shipped back.”
When she finally opened her mouth to speak, the lack of emotion—either good or bad—surprised her. Her words were robotic, matter-of-fact. “I’ve always hated it when you call me that.”
Turning away from him, Trish walked back into the bar and went to check on the three tables of customers that remained. They’d been done with their food for some time, but they were regulars who enjoyed getting together once a week for a couple hours so she knew they wouldn’t be in any hurry to leave.
“Ladies, can I get you anything or has the handsome Mr. Jason been attending your needs during my break?”
A streak of sunlight shone into the bar and vanished as Nick opened the pub door and moved directly behind her, speaking as though she hadn’t just asked her customers a question that he’d be interrupting. “I thought you loved that nickname I gave you. I used it all the time and you never said anything.”
She pointedly ignored him and waited for the group of women who’d been discussing their gardens—one of which was none other than Mrs. Madsen—to answer her. Unfortunately, the gossip mongers homed in on the Young and the Exes mini-soap and forgot all about refills. Before any of them had a chance to ask the burning questions Trish knew balanced on the tips of their tongues, she quickly said, “Okay, just give me a holler if you need anything.”
As she grabbed a few dirty dishes on her way to the bar, she answered Nick without bothering to offer eye contact. “I hated it. It sounded like I was a baby, which in retrospect I suppose is appropriate considering that’s how you treated me.”
Nick sputtered as he trailed behind her. “What the hell are you talking about? I never treated you like a baby.”
Trish rounded the counter and handed the dishes off to Jason. “On the contrary, Nick. You always patronized me and did things for me without asking. You ordered my food and drinks in restaurants whenever we went out with other people; I wasn’t allowed to balance my own checkbook or pay my own bills. You treated me like I didn’t have the sense God gave me to make any decisions that might actually matter or that might embarrass you in front of our friends.”
Jason sidle
d up close to her with his body turned slightly into hers as he stared at Nick through steely blue eyes. She’d never seen Jason like this before. Gone was the flirtatious man ready with a quick smile and playfully inappropriate compliment. In his place stood an intimidating man with his over-six-foot athletic build and muscular arms folded over his broad chest, stretching his black Fort Atkinson Blackhawk Football T-shirt to max capacity. “There a problem here, sweetheart?”
“No problem, Jason,” she said easily. “My ex just wanted to stop in and propose, but now he’s leaving to head back to New York, aren’t you, Nick?”
She wouldn’t have thought it possible, but she felt Jason tense even more beside her. “Your ex?” He said the words as one might say “putrid waste.” Then he clearly directed the next part at said waste. “Don’t let the heavy door castrate you on the way out. Or do. Whatever.”
Nick returned Jason’s glare. “Sweetheart?” he practically sneered. “After everything we had, Trish, I can’t believe you moved on so easily. Especially with some small town jock who sticks around to relive his glory days in order to feel like he’s worth something.”
Trish flattened a palm against Jason’s chest just as he’d lowered his arms and likely prepared to launch over the bar. Then she leaned in and hissed, “Goddammit, Nick, you can insult me all you want, but you don’t get to come to my home and insult my friends.” Without taking her eyes from Nick, she said, “Jason, please give me a minute.”
“I don’t think—”
“Jason.”
“Fuck. Tony’s gonna have my balls for this,” he grumbled. “I’ll be right over there if you need me.”
Jason had directed his last statement to Trish, but it was obvious it’d been a warning meant for Nick. Regardless, she wouldn’t need his help. For the first time in almost ten years, Trish saw her ex-boyfriend clearly, and she was confident on how to handle him.
Ask Me Again Page 9
