The Right Moment

by Heatherly Bell

  He’d finished making the sandwich when she got back. “Eat something before you drink anymore.”

  “In a minute.” She spread lotion on her arms. “After I finish this mojito.”

  “That drink is going to go right to your head. You have almost nothing in your stomach.” Listen to him. Was he her father now?

  She stuck her tongue out at him. “I can handle my mojitos.”

  “Sure.” He set the plate on the floor next to her. “But eat this before Rachel does.”

  Rachel was already sniffing from her perch on the couch he’d pushed several feet away.

  “Get my back, would you?” She handed him the lotion.

  Was she kidding? “You’re enjoying this game.”

  “I used to play make-believe with Hunter all the time. He was Batman, I was Catwoman. This is so much more fun. I haven’t played like this for years.”

  He hadn’t, either. He spread coconut-smelling lotion over Jo’s back and if his hands lingered a little too long at the small of her back he could hardly be blamed. Her skin was softer than he’d remembered. Smooth and creamy. Being this close to her, touching her like this, was deeply affecting. For the first time, he gave himself permission for his desire. He didn’t try to tamp it down or push it back.

  She moved and abruptly stopped his momentum. “Now your back.”

  When her fingers lightly touched his back, rubbing in a downward motion, it could be said that he hadn’t felt as turned on when women had done far more to him. And a lot farther south.

  “Wow. You have a nice back. Why did I not know that?”

  You haven’t seen me naked since I was sixteen? Even then, it was pretty dark in the backseat of my father’s car.

  She continued, squeezing his lats, “Look at these doohickeys. What do you call them? Glutes and ladders? Or is that chutes and ladders?”

  “Lats and traps,” he said, thinking that if the pizza guy didn’t show up soon, he might have to put his whole head in that kiddie pool to cool off.

  Mind over matter. Mind over matter.

  Any moment the doorbell would ring with the pizza delivery, or Jo would come to her senses and stop the madness. He wasn’t a saint, for the love of God. To demonstrate that to both of them, he removed her hand as it was midway down his back for the fifth time.

  He turned to face her. “So, the pizza...”

  But she had tears in her eyes. “I’m sorry.”

  “What? No, don’t be sorry.” He was the sorry one, because he wanted to bite that plump bottom lip of hers.

  “I’m trying to make myself feel better, trying to believe that someone would want me. I know, it’s not fair—” Her hand covered her eyes until he brought it down.

  “Wait. What?”

  “You’re so nice to me all the time. You did all this.” She waved her hand around the room. “For me. And I’m being so unfair.”

  “Jo, you’re drunk.”

  “No, I’m not!” she protested. “Is that what you think? Let me show you how un-drunk I am. If I was drunk, could I do this?”

  She rose and, God help him, started toeing an imaginary line. He face-palmed. She made it halfway across the room before she slid a little, bumped into the kiddie pool and lost her footing.

  “Okay, that’s not fair. We both know I’m not very coordinated on a good day. Let me try again.” This time she went arms out as if walking a tightrope.

  “Why me?” He implored the heavens. “Stop. Come here.”

  She walked back to him. “Finally. Do you believe me now?”

  “I believe you.” Because there was a God in heaven, the doorbell rang. “The pizza.”

  He stood to get his wallet, and that’s when Jo suddenly turned ghost white. She covered her mouth and ran for the bathroom.

  “If only you’d been here sooner,” he said to the kid delivering.

  He set the pizza down on the counter, then went to Jo and crouched behind her, holding her hair back. It was so silky it almost slipped through his callused fingers.

  “I’m such a mess,” she said when she stopped and he handed her a towel. “Why don’t you hate me?”

  “Because I don’t. No one could hate you.” He held out his hand to help her stand.

  “He cheated on me,” she said, eyes watery. “Chuck did. With some young and beautiful girl, Mandy Jewels. The country music star.”

  The red-hot fire of anger coursed through his veins, quickening his pulse. He spoke through clenched teeth. “What?”

  “And also he’s now going with the major leagues.”

  “That’s...that’s really hard to believe.” He meant this sincerely. He’d seen Chuck pitch.

  “Really, what’s wrong with me? Why are men always abandoning me?”

  He would swear that his heart had stopped on a dime. That was him. He’d been the first man to leave her. Not long after Hunter was born, her father had died.

  “You don’t really believe that.”

  “Don’t I? What’s wrong with me?”

  “Nothing, except you keep picking the wrong men!” He seemed to be yelling a little bit. He hadn’t meant to yell. Shit.

  She jerked back. “You never said anything before.”

  “Well, you never asked.”

  She seemed to be considering it. “What kind of men should I pick? I’m a single mom. You and I both know how hard it is for me to find a decent guy. Someone who has a job and a solid future plan, someone who likes kids and wants to have some, likes pets...you know the drill.”

  “I have a job. I want kids. I have Rachel.”

  “You want kids?” Her eyes were narrowed.

  “Yes!”

  “Hud,” she said, a little breathless as understanding dawned on her. “But you...you...”

  “Yeah?”

  “You like women. A lot of women.”

  “You’re going to hold it against me that I like women?”

  He was just a breath away from reminding her that Chuck apparently liked women, too, liked them young, and by the way, Hud had never cheated on anyone. But he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t hurt her by throwing that in her face.

  “No,” she said, shaking her head, still obviously drunk and confused. “It’s just...just...”

  Now he hated himself for bringing this up at all. It wasn’t the time or place. She didn’t have her faculties about her. She couldn’t make good decisions. He was an idiot.

  “Never mind. Forget I said anything.”

  “Don’t be mad,” she said softly, reaching for his arm. “Please.”

  “I’m not mad.”

  “Promise?” she said, wiping at her cheeks.

  To make his point, he pulled her into his arms. She snuggled into his chest as she always did and he squeezed tighter, as he always did. She snuggled to get comfort, and he squeezed to keep her in his arms.

  It just never worked.

  Chapter Five

  The next morning, Joanne woke up and reached for the bottled water she kept on the nightstand next to her bed. Cradling her head, she noticed she still wore her red swimsuit from last night’s um... Festivities. Her incredibly revealing two-piece. She’d chosen this of all her new swimsuits to wear in front of Hud. First the panties. Now this.

  “Oh no. What did I do?”

  She was alone now. No Hud. Rachel was snuggled at the foot of her bed. Pieces of the evening came back to her. Hud’s incredible surprise. So sweet. Oh yes, the mojitos. Too many of those. The lotion she’d spread over Hud’s back, while those hard as granite muscles tensed beneath her fingertips. He was sexual desire personified. Torture. Like a dummy, she’d had too much to drink, thrown herself at him, then thrown up and headed straight into feeling sorry for herself territory without passing GO and collecting two hundred bucks.

  And Hud... Oh
right. He had suggested that he was the perfect man for her, or had she just imagined that? No, he had. And then they’d argued over it. Made up. Or something. She didn’t remember much after that, but at some point she’d fallen asleep and vaguely recalled Hud carrying her up to bed where he’d deposited her. Alone.

  Which made sense, because Hud would never have taken advantage of her in that condition. And if she hadn’t been drunk, what would have happened then? For the first time in years, she was bold enough to let herself imagine it. Hud, kissing her lips, his warm tongue plundering. Taking his clothes off, then hers. Throwing her down to the bed, where he’d...

  Stop it! Stop fantasizing about your best friend. This had to be the stress of being jilted at the altar and worrying about the boutique. Well, today she was back to work and showing the world that she’d moved on. Screw Chuck and the train he rode in on. She’d learned her lesson. Never count on a man to provide your happiness. A lesson she’d learned long ago but somehow forgotten. It should be okay to be alone. She’d been happy before Chuck. Dating here and there, nothing serious, but mostly focused on her business, her son, her mother and her friends.

  Joanne splashed water on her face and took a look at herself in the mirror. Not great, but she’d looked worse.

  Time to get on with her life.

  She showered, then threw on a bathrobe and made her way downstairs, Rachel on her heels. On the kitchen counter, she found a note in Hud’s writing:

  Back to rotation. Dog food is on the counter Take care of Rachel. She’s depending on you. This is your mission, and should you choose to accept it, this note will burst into flames to cover my tracks.

  No, really. Take care of Rachel.

  Joanne smiled. “Your master thinks he’s funny.”

  She set Rachel down, and the little dog wiggled her butt and promptly peed all over her kitchen tile floor.

  “Coco!”

  She tilted her head as if she didn’t know why, and was a little insulted that Joanne would call her by another woman’s name.

  “I mean, Rachel!”

  Joanne opened the sliding glass door to let Rachel outside in her enclosed backyard. She cleaned up the mess, then found Rachel’s food bowl and poured a cup of the dog food Hud had clearly brought over for her. From time to time, Jo had Rachel over for an overnight visit. When Hud was going away with a woman for a weekend, for instance. Hunter especially enjoyed the visits. He was still working on convincing Joanne that he’d be responsible enough for his own dog. But he already had Sarah’s rescue dog, Shackles, at his father’s house so Joanne was in no rush for another dog. Even though Rachel was technically Hud’s dog, Joanne had joint custody.

  After feeding Rachel, Joanne made coffee. It was all she wanted but even that tasted rancid. She threw half of it down the sink. This wasn’t going to work. “Even the coffee sucks right now, Co—Rachel.”

  She found her cell phone, where she assumed Hud had left it for her the night before. “Hi, Mom. I guess you heard, but listen, I didn’t go to the Bahamas with Hud after all.”

  “What happened?”

  “I got jilted but life goes on. I’ll be at the shop if you need me.”

  “Sweetie! It’s too soon. You should take some time off.”

  “But I don’t want to.” Joanne took a breath. “It’s better if I stay busy. Besides, I have a wedding to pay for now.”

  “You’re not paying for the entire wedding!”

  “What am I supposed to do? Leave the vendors hanging? That’s not going to improve my position in our community. And this is my town, not his. I’ll take care of my obligations. Then I’ll go after Chuck for his half.”

  Joanne hung up with her mother, then quickly texted her son that she’d decided not to go to the Bahamas and would be at the shop should he need her. Rummaging through her closet for her brightest dress, Joanne chose a tailored yellow-and-white short-sleeved dress with pockets. One of her favorite work dresses. Plus, it said, “I’m happy and well-adjusted and ready to sell you a wedding dress.”

  Or at least that’s what she hoped it said.

  Joanne was the first at the boutique and opened up the shop. She headed to the computer in the back to check the material inventory and had already pulled up some designs she’d been working on when Nora showed up.

  “You’re really here.”

  “I said I would be. There’s no point in staying home. Better to keep busy. This shop is all I have now.”

  Nora gave Joanne a quick hug. “No use in dwelling.”

  “I’d be bored at home.”

  Not if Hud were to show up every night and pretend they were in the Bahamas. But she’d probably ruined all that by throwing up. Anyway, he was a busy firefighter and they were headed toward the height of wildfire season. She didn’t need to take up all his time with her drama.

  “I’m not going to be the sad jilted bride of the bad luck boutique. I’m going to be the powerful and exalted jilted bride.”

  “You don’t have to be the jilted bride at all.”

  Joanne held up her index finger. “Correct! I’m so much more than that.”

  “I wondered because Hud seemed so concerned about you.”

  “He is. He was. He won’t be anymore.” Then Joanne described Hud’s surprise for her the previous night. The re-creation of the Bahamas.

  Nora swooned. “That’s like a scene from It’s a Wonderful Life.”

  “It was pretty wonderful.” Joanne gathered up her designs, pushing the image of a shirtless Hud out of her mind. “Well, I better get to work.”

  A couple of hours later, Joanne stood when she heard the store’s door chime. They had no fittings on the books today so this might be a new client. It was rare to have walk-ins but maybe the rumors were making people curious about the jilted bride. She’d simply have to set them straight. When Joanne reached the front of the shop, she found her mother, Ramona, and her dear and oldest friend, Iris. Both were in their mid-seventies and had been friends for decades.

  “Hi, honey,” her mother said. “We were just headed to lunch and I brought you something.”

  It appeared to be a book, and when she handed it to Joanne, she read the title: The 7 Stages of Grieving.

  “Now, I know what you’re going to say—nobody died. But a dream died, honey, and that’s almost the same thing.”

  “Except that...it’s not.” Joanne paged through the book. “Mom, really. I’m going to be fine.”

  “It’s horrible, what happened.” Iris, a small woman with her heart in her smile, said, “I would cast a spell on him but all I can do is knit. Our friend Diane is the one who uses spells.”

  “She does not, Iris.” Ramona shook her head. “She’s simply into extreme positive thinking.”

  “As in I’m positive I’m going to cast a spell on his ass,” Iris said.

  Joanne actually laughed. “Thanks for coming in, but unless you need a wedding dress... I should get back to my work.”

  “Don’t you worry,” Iris said, patting her hand. “I’m going to talk K.R. into renewing our vows. Then I’ll come back and have you design a wedding dress.”

  “Aw, that’s sweet. And when that happens, I’ll be here. Thanks for the book, Mom.”

  But she wouldn’t be desperate for business if she could maintain the status quo, even given superstitious Tilly. The Taylor wedding might be Joanne’s only chance to have one of her dresses appear in a magazine, as the Taylor family was high profile in Fortune. Brenda and her mother, Patricia, had loved the design ideas, calling them original and romantic.

  Yes, that was her. She loved romance. Someday maybe she’d get some of it in her real life, too. But for now, she would go with keeping romance alive in her designs. Joanne designed a few dresses each year and sewed each by hand. She had an industrial sewing machine in the back of the shop and kept a second in her
spare room at home. Customers loved that each dress was unique and one of a kind. Joanne strived to make it so. It meant many hours, a touch of occasional carpal tunnel and eyestrain, but the finished product was always breathtaking.

  When the door chimed again later that afternoon, Joanne was both surprised and pleased to see her son. “Hey, didn’t your father pick you up from school today?”

  “Yeah, but I asked him if I could skate over here and bring you something.” Hunter dug in his backpack.

  Matt was so lenient with their son. Joanne would have preferred him not to skate all over town, even with a helmet, but she’d been trying to let go a little bit more and not be such a helicopter parent. Influenced largely by Hud, of course, who had a lot to say about teenage boys.

  Hunter brought out a pink box. “To celebrate.”

  Joanne blinked. “Celebrate?”

  “It’s a cupcake from Lawson’s Bakery. You can celebrate getting rid of Chuck the Douche.”

  Then Hunter opened the box, displaying a white frosted cupcake with drizzles of caramel sauce. Her favorite. He sang, “Na Na Hey Hey Kiss Him Goodbye.” Considering this was a crowd chant at sporting events, she had to wonder how long her son had been dying to sing this to Chuck. Hunter ended the chant with a little jig and spin on his skateboard.

  Nora clapped and laughed with Hunter, fist-bumping him. “Hey, little man, you’re really good.”

  “Seriously?” Joanne didn’t want anyone’s pity but this wasn’t good, either. “This isn’t something to celebrate.”

  As a mother, she wanted to set a good example for her son and celebrating big breakups, especially when one person had been completely humiliated, didn’t seem right, either. Besides, was he completely ignoring whatever feelings she might have about this, or sincerely trying to cheer her up? She took in her teenager’s sharp intelligent gaze, so like his father’s, and decided he meant well.

  But later, they’d have a conversation about all this. She should have considered Hunter’s feelings about Chuck more than she had. At the time, Hunter had been adjusting to his father separating from the Air Force and wanting more of a relationship with him. He’d gotten in trouble at school, tagging a fence with his friends, and generally been going through an “I hate everyone” stage. It had been a difficult time. She’d blamed it all on Matt re-inserting himself into Hunter’s life and failed to take a deeper look at what Hunter might have noticed that she’d somehow missed.