A Shot at Love

by T. B. Markinson

  “Stop what?”

  “Whatever plot is going on in your head. I’m not interested in a relationship. And, definitely not with Natalie. She’s too… short.” Josie, the speechwriter, cringed thinking that was the best she could come up with, considering how lame it sounded, but her mum could be a force that would only complicate the thoughts in Josie’s head about Harry and the fact that Josie didn’t have a career at the moment. This really didn’t seem like the ideal time to be having any thoughts about any woman. Logically, she got that. Her heart was an entirely different matter. Josie raised her hand to her cheek, running a thumb over the hidden dimple.

  The kittens skittered into the room, their backs arched, doing their sidewinder attacks on each other before dashing back toward the arch on the other side of the pub.

  Josie needed to pivot. “If you must play matchmaker, fix up William and Agnes. They need your help. Night after night, they both dress up, come here, and sit on opposite sides of the pub, stealing looks at the other.”

  “But they have one foot in the grave. You’re full of life and at the age when you should settle down. Have I mentioned that before? You’re still young, but not for much longer.”

  Josie chose to ignore the settling down comment and dig at her age. “All people deserve love, Mum.”

  “Are you including yourself in that box?”

  Josie groaned. “All people who want love should be able to find it, no matter their age. I’m not one of those people. Not one who’s looking.”

  “So you keep saying.” Her mum popped the last bite into her mouth, licking her fingers. “Not even contemplating the endearing Natalie.”

  Josie couldn’t determine if the sentence was a statement or question, but decided to put the matter to rest. “Natalie is the last woman I would date.”

  Her mum nodded, seeming to agree with Josie’s assessment. “What about Helen Swift? She’s a professor. Has a fancy house. She’d be able to take care of you.”

  Take care of me!

  Did her mum think Josie was a total wreck who needed someone to show her the way? If that was the case, no wonder her mum was pushing Josie to settle down. Her own mum thought Josie was a disaster who needed a caretaker. Did everyone in the village think that way?

  Did Harry?

  Josie knew her life was turned upside down at the moment, but it wasn’t like she was destitute or anything. She was simply taking the time to figure out her next move. Was there something wrong with that?

  Josie didn’t want to open Pandora’s box by pressing Eugenie. Time for another pivot. “William and Agnes would be cute together. Like Christmas ornaments that hang on the tree, side by side, but don’t talk.”

  “You have a very strange way of imagining relationships.”

  “The man has only said a handful of words to me. The most memorable being Doom Bar and crisps. Granted, he’s old and probably reserving his energy… for other things.”

  With a curious expression, her mum asked, “Like what?”

  Josie fumbled for something that didn’t have to deal with sex or relationships. “Fox hunting.”

  “It’s illegal in this country.”

  “Is it? I could have sworn I saw a painting in one of the antique shops on the square.”

  “It goes back centuries, and it was in an antique shop.” Her mum waved a hand, implying that answered it completely.

  “The murder of beautiful animals should still be celebrated?” Josie could barely believe she was charging down this path, considering how flimsy it was. But her mum always took the bait when Josie utilized the obnoxious American role.

  “It’s not just the UK that hunted foxes, darling daughter. They did so in America as well.”

  “Not sure how that’s helping your argument. Americans and violence go hand in hand.”

  “Oh, this sounds like a light and frothy conversation to start off the day with.” Clive sat with a steaming mug of tea.

  “It’s either this conversation or dating.” Josie’s shrug implied she’d rather talk about murder.

  “I’m curious why those are the only two conversation topics today or ever.” Clive raised his brow.

  “Don’t pay her any attention. Josie’s being dramatic because she doesn’t want me to know she likes Natalie.”

  “Natalie. I had my money on Harry.” Clive ran his hand over his short ginger hair, yawning.

  “That’s because you’re an impractical man!” Her mum’s face turned beet red.

  “That might be the case, but Camilla mentioned Harry needed a good shag. Knock the cobwebs loose, so to speak.”

  Josie’s jaw dropped.

  “She does seem a bit uptight,” her mum conceded.

  “I am not having this discussion. Not with my mum and playboy uncle who receives threats via kittens. It’s weird. So very, very, very, very weird. Times a million.”

  “Would that be four million, then, since you said very four times?” her mum asked in all seriousness.

  “Doesn’t matter. As long as you get the point that we aren’t discussing me shagging Harry to make her less uptight as some type of Good Samaritan thing.”

  Her mum looked past Josie, a wicked smile on her lips. “Good morning, Harry.”

  “Very funny.” Josie sipped her tea angrily.

  “Should I come back?” It was Harry’s voice.

  Josie’s heart briefly stopped before it went into hyperdrive, thudding to the point Josie felt it in her toes. She spun around in her chair. “Oh, fuck. You really are here.”

  “There won’t be any chance of shagging any time soon now,” her mum whispered much too loudly to Clive, wickedness in Eugenie’s eyes.

  If it were possible to stop her heart, Josie would have done so.

  Harry looked just as mortified but seemed frozen, unable to think or say anything to extract herself from the situation.

  “What brings you by?” Clive asked as if Harry were there for business.

  “Uh, I really can’t remember. I did have a purpose, but…” Harry visibly swallowed.

  “Josie, didn’t you mention something about going for a walk? It looks like a lovely morning.” Her uncle looked forcefully at Josie as if trying to use Jedi powers to get her to act.

  Her mum tried to speak, but Clive made a keep your trap shut motion.

  “It is nice out,” Harry said, still shell-shocked, but some color slowly returned to her cheeks.

  “That settles it,” Clive said. “You two are going for a walk.” His tone sounded so much like a relative trying to rid himself of bored children during a school break. “Get going.”

  Josie rose to her feet. “Would you like to?”

  Harry nodded. “I’m pretty sure that’s why I stopped by.”

  Josie was touched Harry had thought of her, but the conspiratorial look on her uncle’s face worried her. Had Camilla asked him to help Harry get laid? While Josie enjoyed Harry’s company and wanted to get to know the woman more, Josie didn’t want to deal with anyone’s matchmaking tendencies. Even if Clive didn’t mean any harm by it. Josie hated being managed by family and friends.

  “I just need to pop upstairs to change.” Josie raised a finger as if saying she would be quick about it.

  Harry nodded, visibly not enthused about being left alone for any amount of time with Josie’s mum.

  Josie sprinted upstairs, located a wool sweater, shoes, and beanie, and assembled herself in record time, dashing back downstairs to rescue Harry from her mum’s withering stare and Clive’s goofy grin.

  “Shall we?” Harry waved for Josie to go ahead.

  “You two have a lovely walk. Take a long one. Your mum and I can set up everything.” Clive shooed them out, all the while digging his phone out of his pocket. Did he plan to text Camilla that step one of their machinations had been accomplished?

  Chapter Twenty

  In silence, they walked out of the pub, making Harriet even more uncomfortable than normal. Harriet now knew for certain J
osie was not interested in her in any fashion aside from being friends. That had been made perfectly clear in humiliating fashion, and in front of Eugenie and Clive. Her brain floundered for an acceptable excuse to allow her to make a clean getaway.

  “Uh, I think I left my kettle on. I should go… turn it off.” Harriet hiked a thumb over her shoulder in the opposite direction of her cottage.

  “Don’t you have an electric one that shuts off?”

  “Oh, right. I forgot that part.” Harriet nodded absently, upset she’d botched the excuse and was coming across even more pathetic now than two minutes ago. Harriet really didn’t think that was possible. Never underestimate a fool’s ability to make an arse out of themselves.

  “Do you have a preference on the route?” Josie asked, stopping in her tracks to bend to the right and then left, limbering up for the stroll.

  Harriet searched the countryside. “It rained yesterday. Are you opposed to mud?”

  “Depends. I don’t mind trudging through mud when I have on wellies, but I’m wearing sneakers.” Josie pointed to her Nikes and made a motion with her hand that suggested So, what do you think?

  “Right.” Harriet wore wellies. “If we head to the square, take a left and then right, we’ll reach one of my favorite treks. It takes us past a manor, cricket field, a charming row of cottages…” She let her voice trail off, aware she was rambling.

  Josie motioned for Harriet to lead the way, the two of them walking in increasingly uncomfortable silence. After they crossed a couple of streets and made it to a metal gate, they started out on a footpath that led to a bridge taking them over a larger river than the one in Upper Chewford, reaching another path on the left. Through the trees on the right, Harriet could make out a cricket field.

  Josie stopped and took in the view of the Mansfield House in the distance.

  Harriet struggled to think of something clever to break the awkwardness, but the unfortunate kettle comment had her rattled. “I’ve always had a knack for showing up at the wrong time.” She opted to joke about what had just happened, thinking it might help crack through the tension like a pick separating an ice chunk. They’d have a good laugh. Deepening their friendship.

  “As a journalist, though, isn’t that kinda a good thing?” Josie kept her eyes on the grand house in the distance that could be used as a location for a Jane Austen film.

  “You’d think so, but my knack only seems to involve personally humiliating scenarios. Like when I walked in on my wife taking a shower with her best friend.”

  Josie looked at Harriet. “Ouch!”

  Harriet nodded.

  “Wait. I thought you said your ex claimed you two had grown apart or something. You never mentioned the shower bit.”

  “It’s not something one mentions so early to a new acquaintance or ever, but she did say that as an excuse as to why… she… you know.”

  “Earlier, then, only ticked one or two notches on the embarrassment factor.” Josie laughed nervously.

  “My timing was truly awful.” Harriet couldn’t mask the mortification in her tone.

  “May I ask exactly what you heard?”

  Harriet released an anguished sigh. “I’m not sure I remember it exactly. I kinda froze, but it was something about us…” She couldn’t bring herself to complete the thought.

  “Shagging,” Josie supplied. “I’m sorry. It seems my family is intent on me hooking up with anyone.”

  “I see,” Harriet said with even more mortification evident in her sagging shoulders.

  “I didn’t mean for that to sound like—that.” Josie laid her hand on Harriet’s shoulder, and Harriet couldn’t help to think that was the only touch she’d ever receive from Josie. A sympathetic gesture.

  “I understand.” It was Harriet’s turn to keep her eyes forward, imagining Mr. Darcy or another Austen bloke charging over the grass on horseback or whatever. Perhaps if luck was on her side, the imaginary rider would knock Harriet to the ground, blotting out all memories of the morning thus far.

  Josie squeezed Harriet’s shoulder before letting her hand slide off. “Please. I really didn’t mean it that way. I think my brain and tongue are on different wavelengths. That always spells trouble for me.” Josie’s tongue lolled out of her mouth, as if she really needed Harriet to understand Josie wasn’t in control of what she said or did.

  However, it was difficult for Harriet to believe that completely. Josie was a speechwriter, meaning she had a way with words. Maybe she hadn’t anticipated how the statement would impact Harriet and was doing damage control out of guilt. How exactly did it impact Harriet? If Harriet was honest with herself, it hit hard. Much harder than she expected it to.

  How to respond, though? Harriet settled with honesty and a pinch of humor. “Says the speechwriter.” Harriet forced a lighthearted laugh as a way of saying, Isn’t this such a ridiculous situation?

  “I’m much better at telling others what to do or putting words into their mouths.”

  “Is that right?”

  “Yes. That’s one part of the job I’ll actually miss.”

  “Maybe you need to find a career choice that’ll allow you to channel your bossy ways into your new life path, whatever that may be.”

  “Bossy ways, huh?” Josie seemed to brush that aside with a smile. “Not sure the pub is the best place for my skills. I have toyed with starting an online management course. Learn more about the business side: accounting, ordering supplies, and all that jazz. Not sure it’ll offer much advice about how to control a philandering uncle and meddling mother. At least Clive isn’t sleeping with anyone on the kitchen staff.”

  “Oh, I imagine his comeuppance will arrive in spectacular fashion. Not in the form of cute kittens.” Harriet didn’t trust herself to crack a joke or even comment about Eugenie’s meddling ways without too much honesty spilling out. Insulting Josie’s mum didn’t seem like the best course of action.

  Josie’s smile fell from her face. “I think you’re right. It won’t be pretty, and I fear Mum will end up in the crosshairs. Meaning the business and her financial well-being will take a hit. And mine now.”

  “He seems to have settled some. Are you worried it won’t last?”

  “He’s a Johnson. From what Mum tells me, stupidity goes back generations. According to her, though, it’s only those with XY chromosomes.”

  “That makes some sense.”

  “She doesn’t like to point fingers at all the males in the family, but she totally does, although I think she secretly chucks me into the mix because of the whole girl chasing thing. Maybe the connection isn’t the XY but chasing girls.”

  “Has there been a lot of that?” Harriet had to admit she was more than slightly curious. Was Josie the type to love them and leave them? The tits and ass comment she’d overheard that day in the coffee shop gave that impression.

  “Girl chasing?” Josie arched one eyebrow in what Harriet determined was her playful way. Was it also flirty? Why did it matter, though? Josie wasn’t interested in Harriet for anything. Not even a fling.

  Harriet nodded, once again determining it was best not to speak and give away too much.

  “I wouldn’t say that, exactly. Not in Clive fashion. But I have been known to go gaga over one or two.”

  Perhaps the pressure of knowing they were simply buds, emboldened Harriet to prod, “Do tell.”

  Josie laughed, looking much more comfortable as they continued along the path. “Can this be a quid pro quo thing?”

  “Do you want it to be?”

  “I absolutely do. I’m not going to dish the dirt if there isn’t a payoff.” Josie joggled Harriet’s shoulder with her own.

  Harriet laughed. “I fear the payoff you’ll receive will be a disappointment.”

  “I sincerely doubt that.” Josie sounded genuine and spoke with a whiff of sadness. “You remind me so much of a girl who got away.”

  “Me?” Harriet placed a hand on her chest, her heart thundering deep inside, bu
t tempered it with the thought that it was the reason Josie liked her. To be reminded of what might have been.

  “She was a lot like you. Intellectual. Shy in groups but more confident in a one-on-one situation. She could be bossy when she needed to be. She even wore similar sexy black-framed glasses. Just so you know, the last two qualities are an extreme turn-on for me.”

  Harriet stared straight ahead, trying to parse that one out. Did Josie say that to give Harriet some hope? Or was it simply informational?

  Josie, not picking up on Harriet’s thoughts, continued, “The woman in question barely knew I existed.”

  “Was it a celebrity crush? One of your candidates, perhaps?”

  “Not a celebrity or a candidate. They do nothing for me. We worked on the same campaign, but this was way back in the day when I was only a volunteer. I was very low on the totem pole.” Josie held her hand down below the knee. “If I even was on the totem pole. She wasn’t the type to appreciate the masses.”

  “Interesting. And, you wanted to date her?”

  “I know. She sounds terrible. When you’re all of twenty, you have no idea what people can really be like behind closed doors. I probably assumed she’d be different if there were more between us. Like somehow I could dent her hard exterior.”

  “Do you regret not asking her out?” They were on pavement now, with some cottages on their left.

  Josie took a moment to think over her answer. “Yes and no. She ended up marrying a woman she met on a different campaign, and surprise, surprise; from what I’ve heard, she’s exactly like she is in the working world. Demanding. Expecting her wife to cater to her career ambitions and rigid schedule. Dodged a bullet there, I think.” Josie laughed. “But I regret not getting over my fear of rejection. In many situations, I have no fear. When it comes to intimate relationships, I…”

  “Even now?”

  “To a certain extent. I’ve asked out some women after that to prove to myself I can, but it’s still a part of me I have to push myself on.”

  “I never would have guessed that.” Did Josie’s confession cement their friendship since Harriet couldn’t factor out why anyone would confess this to a potential love interest?