You Never Know

by Mary Calmes

  “He came out after he left the NFL,” Gail pointed out.

  I nodded.

  “He did.”

  “I’m not doubting you,” I placated her, hands up in defense.

  “Just recently he was dating that talk show host—what’s his name, the one who hosted the Oscars last year.”

  “God,” I grumbled before leaning in to kiss her cheek. “While this is riveting, I think I’ll just worry about the McCauley house that I’m putting in overlooking the beach.”

  Ben’s face brightened. “I can’t wait to see that. How do you put a house into rock with that drop underneath? What is that, fifty feet?”

  My groan couldn’t be stifled. “That’s the easy part. Try explaining to Mrs. McCauley that no, she cannot have a flushing toilet on a damn ledge. That was fun.”

  “What do you have, then?” Gail wanted to know.

  “A compost one like I have in the treehouse,” I explained.

  She squinted. “What’s her problem with that?”

  “She thinks it’s gonna smell.”

  “Yours doesn’t.”

  “That’s because this isn’t the 1880s and mine has a fan, and honestly, if your compost toilet smells, you did something wrong when you installed it or you’re not following directions.”

  “I know a lot of people have those now to help save on water.”

  “I love how these conversations digress,” Toby announced with a chuckle.

  “I’ll see you guys,” I told them, and I would have left, but Gail stopped me.

  “What about Mitch?”

  I gave her a bored look. “Sweetie, I probably won’t even see him. The town isn’t that small.”

  “But what if you do?”

  I shrugged. “If I do, I do. You’ll see. Things don’t stay the same, and you can never truly go back.”

  “You’re so sure?”

  “A hundred percent,” I assured her. “Me and Mitch Thayer are a thing of the past.”

  She tipped her head and smiled at me. “You never know.”

  But I did. Over was over, and sometimes it really was best to let sleeping dogs lie.

  DARTING ACROSS the main street in town and heading to Elixir to get some coffee, I smiled, thinking about Gail giving a crap, even after so long, about me and Mitch Thayer. It must have looked much more like a forever kind of thing back in high school.

  Inside Elixir the line was long, but Beth Toomey—my friend Derek’s wife—who owned the place, whistled for me and lifted the twenty-ounce cup with the protective sleeve and stopper already in it.

  I smiled sheepishly as I moved out of line and over to the pickup end, where I took the offered cup. Bending over, I was going to reach into the side of my running shoe where I’d shoved a five dollar bill.

  “Stop it. You know you don’t pay for coffee.”

  I straightened up and sighed long and loud so she couldn’t miss it.

  “What?” she challenged. “You think working here—for free, I might add—for six months while Derek recovered from back surgery wasn’t going to entitle you to free coffee for life?” She groaned. “Knock it off.”

  Not only was it free when she or Derek was there, but all her employees knew me on sight as well.

  “And all the upgrades you made while you were here, Hage,” she said wistfully, smiling at me. “You gave the place so much charm with the pivoting windows, the lead glass, the Edison lights, and the exposed wooden beam ceiling.”

  While I was there, there’d been down times and the place had lacked an identity. Now it had one: a warm, almost 1930s feel that locals found quaint and endearing and tourists fun and different. Everyone loved the coffee shop, and I was proud of how the renovations turned out.

  “Thank you, sweetie, but I—”

  “You know, when I first moved here, I wasn’t sure I was going to fit in, but you and Gail and Ben and Joanna were so kind to me… I felt like I belonged right away.”

  “Well, we’re all lucky to have you, but I don’t want other people to see you giving me free coffee all the time. It’s not good for business. You should let me—”

  “Oh holy crap,” she gasped. “Did you know Mitch Thayer is back in town?”

  “You don’t even know him!” I retorted, louder than I intended.

  “I’ve seen the yearbooks, I’ve heard the stories,” she said quickly, her face lighting up, eyes growing wide. “It’s so romantic, like a movie. I mean, him being back and all.”

  “For crissakes, why does everyone care about me and Mitch?”

  “Because it’s so romantic, you ass.”

  My groan was loud and dramatic.

  “It is!”

  I thanked her again for the coffee before moving to the door, wanting out of there before she could say another word about Mitch Thayer. Out on the sidewalk, I was turning for home when someone called my name.

  A tricked-out Jeep Wrangler sat idling beside the curb, and driving it was Hamid Ajam dressed in… I wasn’t sure what. “Is that a jumpsuit?”

  “It’s what you wear to do construction.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “Don’t say it like that,” he ordered, plucking at the coveralls that were not at all like the Carhartt ones I owned. “This is precisely what one wears.”

  “If you’re going to a housewarming party,” I replied, trying not to sound snide. “But I promise you that whatever that’s made of will not protect you in the least.”

  He shook his head like I was the one being ridiculous.

  “Okay, I’ll bite,” I teased. “Why do you have a tool belt on? You’re a pediatrician, for crissake.” He started to answer. “And why’re you wearing it while you’re driving?”

  “I’m building sets for the play at the middle school this morning—along with you, I might add—and Ellie bought the belt and told me it was hot.”

  At least I knew what I was supposed to be doing now, what I’d forgotten.

  “Is it not hot?”

  I shook my head. His wife had lied.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Your wife just wants you out of the house so she can finish renovating your bathroom.”

  He grunted.

  “She wants to do everything.”

  “I know,” he agreed, leaning over to open the door for me. “I blame you.”

  “Me?”

  “Who gives a doctor’s wife and mother of four a job staining floors?”

  I passed him my coffee as I got into the Jeep and then put on my seat belt. “She’s really good at it.”

  He groaned as he returned my cup.

  “What? She is. The way she mixes the stain and lays it down… did you see the pink color she got on the Daugherty house?”

  He shook his head.

  “Your wife is an artist.”

  “My wife doesn’t just want to do flooring; she wants to be an all-around contractor.”

  “I know. It’s awesome.”

  “Please stop talking. You’re the only man I know who can get normal women all hot to do manual labor.”

  I did a slow pan to him.

  “It’s true! Wait until we get to the school. The rest of us will be forgotten as soon as Joanna sees you.”

  Mrs. Joanna Moran—PTA president, head of every organizational search and hiring committee in the Benson school district, Falcon Cliff Country Club board member, head of the Ladies Auxiliary, and County Treasurer—did, in fact, start squealing with happiness the second I walked into the Pilon Middle School gym behind Hamid. She passed him right up, as did the other five soccer moms behind her, and flew over to me, wrapping her perfectly manicured dripping with diamonds and gold hands around my left forearm and squeezing tight, mindless of the fact I smelled like dried sweat and looked like I hadn’t taken a shower—which I hadn’t.

  “Oh Hage,” she sighed. “We’re in real trouble.”

  I smiled and patted her hand during the general groan from the men assembled there, most notably from Joanna’s
husband, Mayor Matthew Moran, also president of the board of the country club.

  “Matt,” I greeted drolly. Any animosity from when we’d gone to high school together had evaporated when he was the one who stayed on top of my trip home from a hospital in Berlin after I was rescued. First I was blown up, then captured, and finally stuck in the middle of a firefight between those who wanted to execute me and those who wanted to liberate me. I could never say thank you enough for being saved, but Matt had used his contacts in the governor’s office and from when he himself had served, and made sure my folks knew exactly where I was every step of the way once I turned up among the living. There were no more harbored grudges after that.

  “Hagen,” he replied irritably.

  I cleared my throat. “What’s going on with the pulleys?” I asked, seeing large pieces of painted plywood attached haphazardly to screws, with rope through them. I could already tell it wasn’t weighted correctly or stabilized from the back to stand up instead of fall over. The good news was, at least a lot of the scenery was painted. From the stains on the stage, however, I was guessing that it wasn’t all completely dry yet.

  “I have no idea,” he snapped. “One is supposed to go up and the other one down at the same time, but nothing’s separate. Everything moves all together.”

  I chuckled, finished the last of my coffee, kissed Joanna on the cheek, passed her my empty cup, and told Matt to follow me. He grumbled something behind me. “What was that?”

  “I said, I’ve been following you since the fifth grade, no need to stop now.”

  Stopping, I waited until he was beside me so I could drape an arm around his shoulders.

  “Oh God,” he groaned. “Can we please not bond today?”

  But there was no way around it after that.

  WE ALL worked until one and then caravanned down to the Boar and Bear and had lunch and beer. Between the people and the alcohol, I was more at ease than I remembered being for quite a long time.

  “Ohmygod,” Joanna squeaked, turning in her seat to look at me. She always sat by me whenever we were out together in a group. “I’m so selfish. I didn’t even think to ask.”

  “About?”

  “Mitch,” she announced.

  The table went silent.

  “Oh for fuck’s sake,” I grumbled, getting up.

  That got me a roar of no and many hands reaching up at the same time to pull me back down into my seat.

  Looking out over the faces of people I’d known since high school, I realized that, like it or not, we were all in it for the long haul. We were stuck together. Many had left and never returned, but more of us had come back after our adventures, some more dangerous than others, to call Benson home permanently. Some of these people, like Matt, I’d known since grade school, and to think they wouldn’t be up in my business was crazy.

  “You all realize that me and Mitch Thayer was a hundred years ago, right?”

  Lots of nodding.

  I glared back. “So why is his moving back here such a big deal to everyone?”

  “Because.” Sara Tomita sighed from where she sat beside her wife, Tammy. “You guys were the high school romance we were all pulling for.”

  Tammy grinned. “I have no idea about this, Hagen, but from the pictures in the yearbook, you two were awfully pretty together.”

  “And he’s still gorgeous by the way,” Joanna said, swooning. “I saw him and his kids at the market, and I almost swallowed my tongue.”

  “I’m right here,” Matt chimed in.

  “Kids?” Hamid asked.

  “He’s just as beautiful as ever, all sleek and muscle-y with that golden tan and those gorgeous big blue eyes.”

  “Can you see me at all?” Matt asked.

  “And yeah, he’s got two boys, one nine, one six. Apparently, they do half the year with him and half with his ex. He got July through December this year, so they’ll have their first Christmas here,” Joanna answered Hamid.

  “Oh, that’ll be nice,” Zadie Lawrence, former captain of the cheerleading squad and, contrary to every movie about high school I’d ever seen, all-around good egg, said. “They’ll get to see the Halloween parade and the Thanksgiving one, and the Christmas one, and they can help string lights and—”

  “I bet his kids are gorgeous too,” another person commented.

  “That whole family is blessed with good genes.”

  “Do Mitch’s folks still live in Portland?”

  “They do,” Joanna explained, taking back the conversation from the others. “I wonder if they’re thinking of moving back here to Benson now that he’s moved his business here? Wouldn’t that be wonderful?”

  Everyone agreed it would be.

  I made my move then, in the slight lull in conversation, and announced I needed to get home and shower and check in on several job sites.

  “I’ll owe you,” I told Matt.

  “No, sweetie, this was our treat,” Joanna assured me. “I so appreciate you all taking time out of your Saturday to help the kids.”

  I bent and kissed her cheek, and she lifted her hand to mine fondly.

  “Don’t you want me to drive you home?” Hamid asked, rising.

  “I don’t wanna rush you.”

  “No, I have six text messages to bring home some kind of molding, so this will be good because you’ll know what to get.”

  “So, we’re stopping at Ty’s, I take it?” It was a great hardware store that our friend Tyler Diggs had grown into something the size of a Lowe’s. It made sense with all the building that went on in Benson, and I was certainly glad it was there.

  “Just come on,” he grumbled, and the laughter that followed us out made me smile.

  Chapter Two

  BECAUSE WHAT I watched on TV fell more in line with sports, comedies, and the BBC, I had no earthly idea who Ashford Lennox was when he pushed by me on the way to the bar. He was rude, offering no apology or any word at all, only disdain as other people turned to look at him. While they made eye contact and jolted with recognition, opened their mouths in awe—resembling fish gulping for air on dry land—or lit up like Christmas trees, I was not impressed. Maybe he was some local celebrity, I didn’t know, didn’t care; I only knew that he needed to be taught some manners.

  We were at Flask, a high-end lounge/restaurant in Portland, and when he did the bull in the china shop maneuver again and tried to shove past, I slid an arm around his chest and yanked him back into me.

  “The hell are you—”

  “Say excuse me when you go by,” I rumbled into his ear before letting him go. “And don’t cut in line. It’s rude as hell. People will wonder about your upbringing.”

  He whirled around to face me.

  I scowled back.

  But then a funny thing happened: he looked me up and down and then stepped close into my space, taking hold of my jacket and drew in a breath. We were the same height, both of us hovering just above six feet, but whereas he was gifted with long, lean sinewy muscle, I was covered in the hard, thick kind from first soldiering and now construction. It was easy to see he was all sleek, elegant perfection and I was not. I shouldn’t have even put my hands on him, and I was actually shocked when he reached for me, made sure I stayed where I was. And his smile was amazing, all gleaming eyes with laugh lines in the corners crinkling, and his pillowy pink lips curled into a wicked grin that made me want to grab him all over again. I looked at the beautiful man, taking him all in at once, and need like I hadn’t felt in ages swamped me.

  The roll of hunger under my skin made my jaw clench. Normally, for me to want to get closer, I needed friendship first, an implied trust, so I’d know I couldn’t, wouldn’t, be hurt. My reaction to him surprised me, and so my first response was to run.

  I started to turn. He tightened his hold on the lapels of my suit jacket. Clearly, he wanted a better apology.

  “Hey, I’m sorry,” I said thickly, entranced by his smile, that wolfish grin, and his dark emerald eyes. “That
was impulsive and I don’t usually—”

  “I don’t mind,” he assured me, one hand remaining clutched in my coat, the other slipping down to my hip, anchoring me there.

  “Shit,” I blurted, ready to leave a second time.

  “Forgive me,” he rushed out, holding my gaze, “I didn’t realize I was cutting in line.”

  I shrugged. “I shouldn’t have—”

  “Would you mind getting us some drinks and then sitting with me?”

  I searched his face, unsure about why he wasn’t yelling at me, and decided on the easiest answer. He was clearly looking to get laid, just like I was. My meeting had finished early and instead of driving the long hours it would take to get back home, I’d opted to stay the night in the city instead.

  “Please,” he insisted.

  I wouldn’t mind one bit. He was gorgeous, and I could tell from the way his clothes clung to him that the body leaning into mine was toned and sculpted.

  When I finished ordering shots, we moved to the end of the bar.

  “I’m Ash,” he offered along with his hand. “Ash Lennox.”

  I took it and squeezed. “Hagen Wylie.”

  He nodded, then smiled. “I never had anyone just grab me before, Hagen.”

  “Oh no?” I replied quickly, shooting the tequila and then leaning forward. “I find that hard to believe, Ash.”

  “It’s true,” he assured me. “Most men would be scared of getting sued.”

  “Are you a lawyer?”

  “No, but I have a whole team of them at my disposal.”

  I nodded. Considering the way he was gazing at me, all besotted and interested, I figured I would just ask for what I wanted. “So, top or bottom?” I pried, needing to know right off the bat.

  He coughed. “You don’t mess around do you?”

  I shook my head.

  “Bottom,” he said on an exhale.

  Excellent news. Clearly, he liked the idea of being manhandled.

  “You wanna get somethin’ to eat?”

  “Yes,” he agreed, standing quickly and gulping the shot of Gran Patrón instead of savoring it. “Come with me.”