by Brinda Berry
I’m alone in the store this morning, reveling in the smell of books and chai tea. I’ve decided to find a way to revitalize the bookstore, without Dane’s help. Thinking outside the box pumps my creative juices. Plus, the last thing I need is a venture that throws him into my life more.
At the tinkle of door chimes, I turn away from building a display of fantasy novels.
Harper Wade strolls into the store, looking cheerful enough for both of us. “Hey, girl.”
As much as I love hanging out with her, I haven’t been able to see her as much since she works with Dane and practically lives with my brother. Both situations limit what I’m able to confide.
“Hi you,” I say and walk over to meet her in the center of the store.
She lifts a white paper bag. “Pastries. I brought your favorites.”
“Hmm…” I say, pretending it sounds good so I won’t appear ungrateful. “I just made a chai tea. Want one?”
“Oh, not tea so much. Coffee? I love all the flavors you have. Can I choose?” she asks and walks to the single cup machine I keep on a wood table near the back.
“Be my guest.” I pick up my mug from the checkout counter and take a slow sip.
She’s cute as she examines each tiny single pod coffee and tea in the swiveling dispenser. “Chocolate or pumpkin. I’m starving. They both sound delicious. Maybe I’ll have two cups.”
“Go for it,” I say and chuckle. “This tea is about the only thing I can handle lately. I don’t think I can stomach any sugar,” I say and eye the bag she brought in.
“What? You’re not going all health-nut on me or something…”
I chuckle at her horrified expression. “No. Never. I’m feeling nauseous, that’s all.”
“Oh.” She pulls a chocolate coffee pod from the rack and rests her hip against the countertop. “You look pale. You okay?”
“Yeah, yeah. Fine. Just no appetite lately.” Ever since Dane, I’m tempted to add. But I’ve never told her my true feelings for him and I’ve certainly not confessed to sleeping with the jerk.
“Maybe you can eat yours later.” She nods, pops the coffee pod into the machine, and pushes the start button. Pulling a glazed donut from the bag, she makes a smacking sound and lifts her eyebrows as if seeing the donut will change my mind.
I roll my eyes at her. “I’ll eat it after a while. I always feel better about ten o’clock.”
“Really.” She takes a bite and licks her fingers. “When I was pregnant, I was like that. Couldn’t hold down a thing until mid-morning.”
I forget that Harper was once pregnant and married, all before she ever moved to Nashville. She seems way too young to have all those experiences behind her.
She suddenly frowns. “Anything you need to confess related to feeling ill in the mornings?”
It takes me a second to comprehend her hint.
“I can’t be pregnant.” I take another sip of tea.
“Because you haven’t had sex with anyone,” she says around a bite and licks sugar off her lips. She looks like a freaking cat enjoying that sugar way too much.
My stomach does a queasy toss and nervous laugh escapes my lips because I don’t know what else to do. It’s like she knows. “Because even if I did have sex with someone, I’d be using protection.”
“So, you did have sex lately? How long have you been sick in the mornings? Who is the guy you’re having sex with?”
An unpleasant tingle buzzes over my skin. I mentally track the last few days. Tuesday? Gah. Yes, I was sick. Monday? Ding, ding, ding. My lungs cry out since I’ve stopped breathing.
The coffee machine beeps to signal a filled cup, but Harper ignores it, choosing to stare me down.
“What?” I grumble. No. My body would feel different, as if carrying precious cargo. I’d know. It wouldn’t feel like a too-many-tequila hangover...would it?
Harper interrupts my thoughts. “When’s the last time you had your period?” she asks.
“I’ve never been regular. Come on, Harper. Not. Pregnant.” I deposit my half-empty cup of tea on the counter. She examines me with an x-ray intensity, so I turn my face back to my recent fantasy book display.
She’s attempting the mind-reading thing, and I know my face is way too transparent. Focus on something non-pregnancy related.
Sure. Studying the end cap of books, I choose to sort the books by color. Yes. Maybe a display built totally on books in shades of blue. Eragon on the left. Cassandra Clare’s latest next to it. I’ll need another—
“Oh my God. You’re ignoring me.” Harper places her hands on my back. “I’m not trying to scare you. Honey, listen. If there’s a chance at all—”
“There’s not.” I quit arranging books and pivot toward her. “I’m just not.”
This is the twenty-first century. Birth control is mostly reliable. When she leaves, I’ll pop over to the baby books aisle and confirm the stats of efficiency. No worries.
Harper nods and her eyes roam down to my flat belly. “Sure. It’s doubtful. I’m going to run a quick errand and come right back.”
Leaving her unfinished coffee and donuts behind, she jogs toward the door.
“Where are you going?” I smooth my skirt and smooth it again. She is the strangest girl I know. It’s a good thing I like strange and quirky.
They make the best characters in books and even better in real life.
Pregnant. Ha. What a thought. I smooth the fabric of my skirt a third time.
“Harper!” I yell when she opens the door.
“To get a pregnancy test from the drugstore.”
I squish down the uneasy tremble in my thoughts. No way. We had sex, sure, but with protection.
My knees wobble and I let my forehead fall to rest on the display of books in front of me.
Despite my nerves, I walk over to the nonfiction books on pregnancy and baby rearing. A book called How to Make a Life in Ten Easy Steps catches my eye. Maybe not that one.
The internet surely holds the answers to the information I need. I return to the counter and power up my laptop. Browsing to a site on contraception, I search for information on the effectiveness of condoms.
Holy condom fail. Only 86% effective? Yes, no more relying on those bad boys.
Ten minutes pass of me vacillating between an all-out sweatfest and a certainty that I’m working myself up over nothing.
I ignore Harper when she silently returns with another bag and marches straight to the store restroom. She returns to the front and gives me a hug like I’m a soldier going off to battle. “I have to go to work. Or if you want me to stay, I can call Dane and tell him I’ll be late.”
“No.” I raise one eyebrow at her pushy behavior. “And Harper Wade, if you breathe a word of your ridiculous speculation to my brother, I will hurt you. Understand?”
She stares at me. “Okay?”
“Did you answer with a question? I swear I will cut you off from…from…I’ll think of something.” Heat travels along my chest and I suck in air.
“I won’t,” she says. “Sisters above misters… or whatever that saying is.”
As soon as she leaves, I find myself in the bathroom staring at the pharmacy bag.
Unboxing the contents, I examine the test. No biggie. I’m not scared of a plastic stick. The directions seem simple enough.
You’d have to be an idiot to misunderstand them or an idiot to have unprotected sex.
Which I did not. So, it’s crazy that my hand shakes as I carefully place the instructions on the narrow bathroom countertop. All I need is a little pee and a lot of luck.
I follow each step and fasten my pants back up. Holding the stick to the light, I squint at the white plastic wand. Nothing.
Whew.
Wait. I glance at the directions again. Okay, maybe I have to give it more than a second or two. I close my eyes and lean my butt against the sink.
I’m feeling better this morning. It’s natural that metabolism changes. Taste buds change.
/>
My body’s just not that of a college girl anymore, one who can eat junk food all the time.
I open my eyes and look into the mirror. Pfft. This is a wake-up call to get on the pill. Double protection for the win. Yeah. I hold up the stick and move it underneath the light.
Two thin rosy lines appear.
Chapter Three
A Little Project
Dane
May
It’s afternoon and the restaurant section of the bar is full—a situation that makes me hum along with the singer on stage. I’ve added some laid back solo acts during the lunch hour and the customers enjoy getting their music fix. They eat more, relax more, spend more.
And even though my father says he always knew I’d have a knack for the business, I’m one step closer to proving myself.
“Hi Dane,” the voice says.
I stop what I’m doing and glance to my left.
The waitress—a girl I hired all of two weeks ago—shoots me a dazzling smile. “Would it be all right if I leave at eight tonight?”
“You have to close tonight. It’s on the schedule. You can’t come in here on the day you work and ask to be let off early. It doesn’t work that way.” I wipe down the counter and open a cardboard box of Dastardly Bastards coasters.
“I’ll make it up to you. I promise.” My employee steps closer and coos the last sentence. As if I can’t catch her meaning, she leans her elbows onto the bar and peers up through very long lashes. “Anything you want and it’s yours. You name it.”
Her sultry look pisses me off. What is it with finding good help these days? And for that matter, do I wear my dick on my sleeve?
“No,” I answer and stop replenishing the bar supplies. “I need more than a few hours to rearrange the schedule. It’s going to be packed tonight. We have a group in the banquet room. Sorry but no can do.”
The waitress furrows her brow and stomps off. I shake my head at her back. Just because I’m friendly with all the staff, the new ones think I’m a pushover. Think again. I’m probably more of a hard-ass than my dad was, but he’s retired now and I have to prove something to both of us.
I need to start a training week for new hires and give them a test over the qualities of hard workers. I’m the boss and I don’t get off early tonight.
Harper strides into the room carrying a box way too large for her. Only her eyes appear over the top. “Your order of shot glasses arrived. I can’t wait to see your logo on them.”
“Whoa. Next time, ask a guy to carry boxes in.” I run to the end of the bar and take the load from her.
She surrenders the box and follows me. “It’s light. I’m not helpless.”
“Nope. You’re not. But when there’s a heavier box, call me. I can’t have you out because you hurt yourself. You’re my right-hand woman.”
I grab a paring knife from a drawer. Cutting the box’s taped flap, I grin like a kid. I love seeing new merchandise with the business name imprinted on it. Gives me a thrill every single time.
Harper gives me the appropriate ‘oohs’ and ‘ahs’ when I hold up the new design. “Looks good, boss,” she says.
“Thanks.” I nod and study her. “I’m pulling you from waitressing tonight. I want to train you to be my backup.”
A deep line of concern mars her forehead. “What’s up?”
I get why she’s baffled. I’ve never considered giving over some of my responsibilities, but I need more time to move forward in partnering with Josie on a business plan. I close the lid on the box in front of me.
“Let’s go to my office and talk.” I sweep my hand out in front of me indicating that she lead the way.
We enter my office that’s tucked into a corner of the building beyond the kitchen. She drops into the chair facing my desk. “What do you need me to do?” she asks.
“How do you feel about being promoted to assistant manager?” I sit in the chair behind my desk and lean back.
“Really? I don’t know. I mean, I’m flattered, of course. But I need to know all the details.” Her words spill out in an excited rush.
“Good. I’ll tell you anything you need to make a decision. I have some things going on that will take me away from being here. So I need someone I can count on now and in the future. I’d like that person to be you.”
She frowns and cocks her head. “Oh. That’s kind of mysterious. Care to share?”
“Has Josie mentioned anything to you?”
Harper bolts upright in her chair, scooting the legs sharply against the wood floor. “I knew it! You guys weren’t hiding anything from me and Leo. We knew all along…”
I raise my eyebrows. I had no idea they’d be excited over a new business and I should’ve known that Josie tells her brother everything.
Harper wiggles in her seat, a flustered smile crossing her lips. “I tried to call her yesterday and she…well, she didn’t answer. I worked until late last night and then now I’m here and I should’ve…” she trails off and sucks in a breath. “Why are you looking at me that way. Wait a minute. What about Josie?”
I examine her wide eyes and frown back at her. “I didn’t know you and Leo would be so stoked over our project. We’re going to be spending a lot of time together in the future, and it’s going to take a lot of effort at first but we’ll make it great.”
“Project?” Harper fidgets in her seat.
Maybe she doesn’t know all the details after all. I’ve messed up. I thought women told each other everything. “I should let Josie tell you. It’s not my place to go around telling everyone about our little project.”
Harper leans in. “Project? Is that what the kids are calling it these days?” she says with an edge.
“Am I missing something?” It’s evident that Harper has information of some sort.
“Yeah. I mean…if you are talking about what I am talking about, then you’d better not be calling it a project. That’s if you want to retain your man bits.”
Now I’m the one who fidgets. “What are you so uptight about?”
“Nothing.”
Oh, quintessential woman answer. “Harper, I know you better than that.”
Her back stiffens. “You slept with Josie. Right?”
Well, hell. They did talk. I close my eyes as the guilt washes over me. When I open them, she stares at me, her eyes narrowed and judgmental.
I expect her to give me a tongue-lashing about how friends don’t screw each other but instead, she hops up and places a hand on the doorknob. “You two have a lot of work ahead of you. As for the assistant manager job…I’d like a written job description if you have one and time to talk it over with Leo.”
“Sure, but where are you going?”
“Calling Josie before my shift,” she says. Then she disappears in a cloud of flying blond hair and thinly veiled irritation.
The new waitress who wanted to leave early gets her way by walking out on the job, leaving me one short on the floor.
Instead of calling someone else in at this hour, I jump in and serve her tables. We’re packed. Customers wait in the small area with the seating hostess.
I take an order to a table in the back room, nod at some of my regulars present for their customary Tuesday night out, and grab a rag to clean up a spill at a table with some girls who need to go home before they get into trouble.
A hand lands gently on my shoulder. I turn to find Harper.
“Got a minute?” she asks.
“A minute.”
She walks away from the table to a quiet corner of the restaurant. “I’m worried.”
“What’s up?”
Harper pulls her cell phone out and checks the screen. She sticks it back in her pocket before continuing. “So, I called Josie today and she wouldn’t answer. My calls went straight to voicemail.”
“Maybe she was busy.”
Worry lines crease Harper’s forehead. “I called five times. She always calls me back. Leo’s out of town so I called him to see if he’d ta
lked to her. He’s at that book expo in New York. You know how he and Josie have that weird twin thing. He said he had a weird feeling that something was wrong. So he called her and left messages.”
I blow out a breath and attempt to have patience for the way she gives me too many details. “And?”
“She texted him that she was closing the store for a few days and going to Leo’s cabin.”
“I’m sure she just needs a vacation.” I say this to keep Harper from worrying more, but my heartbeat kicks up. She’s right. Something’s off. Josie never closes the store. Last year, she kept the bookstore open through a snowstorm in case customers showed up.
“I’ll get ahold of her. No problem. I’ll keep you updated.” I glance behind me at the filled tables. “We’d better get back to it.”
“Yeah. Okay. She’ll talk to you.” She returns to serving customers without saying more.
Harper’s faith that Josie will answer my call warms me. Maybe all isn’t in the shitter since our hook-up. I check the time. Although it’s late, I can’t put off calling until morning. Striding quickly to the back, I slip into my office and sit on the edge of the desk.
I locate her number in my favorites list on my cell. She’s probably in bed by now, maybe reading a book like she tends to do. After the second ring, her voicemail message kicks in. I press END and try again. When her voice mail prompts me to leave a message, I brace myself to sound casual instead of crazy worried.
“Hey. It’s me. I know you’re probably fine, but can you give me a call? Don’t worry about the time. You know me. I’m up at all hours. Okay? Well, I’ll talk to you later. Call me.”
If a person can excel in rambling, I am an Olympian on that message. But maybe she’ll get that it’s important.
I picture her alone at the cabin, isolated in the middle of the woods near Pigeon Forge. When Josie and Leo’s parents died, Josie inherited their main home in Nashville and Leo got the cabin—a vacation spot that usually sits empty unless Leo opts for a weekend getaway.
