by A. J. Wynter
“I’m sorry Meg. I didn’t mean to bring up that asshole.”
“It’s okay.” Meg set down the fork and straightened the apron down her front. She knew that she would miss a lot about her life with Alex, but she had to remember the most important part, the fact that he betrayed her trust in the worst way possible.
Timber yipped as the doorbell chimed.
“Is that your dad?” Charlotte asked the husky. Timber glanced to the door but seemed entranced by the food smells in the kitchen.
“Oh shoot.” Megan fumbled to rip off the apron. “I’ll get it,” she whispered. She turned and tossed the apron onto the counter, and out of the corner of her eye, saw the tie wrap around the handle of the wooden spoon and launch it through the air. Her reflex to catch the spoon was a touch too slow and she caught it as it hit her chest, the tomato sauce spreading across her white t-shirt like she’d just been stabbed.
“Haha. Oh. My. Meg!” Charlotte laughed and wiped the tears from her eye as she pointed at her friend. “I bet you couldn’t do that again in a million years.”
“I need to get the door.” Megan grabbed a cloth from the sink and dabbed in vain at the Rorschach tomato stain on her shirt.
“Sandy will get it,”
“Oh, I forgot that she was here.” Megan tossed the cloth in the sink. “I can’t let him see me like this.”
“Mmmmhmmm.” Charlotte murmured.
“Oh. Stop.” Megan swatted at her friend and ran up the timber stair case two steps at a time.
Megan pulled off the stained shirt and tossed it into the bathroom sink, running cold water into the basin to let it soak. She looked down at her white bra and saw that it was unscathed. She pulled open a drawer and grabbed out another white t-shirt. She tip-toed to the top of the stairs, intent on waiting until Josh had left to venture back downstairs.
She could hear the deep timbre of his voice and the titter of Charlotte’s laugh. She sat on the top step, waiting for the sound of the front door to close but the small talk seemed to drag on and on. Finally, when the heavy door thudded shut, she flew down the stairs to tend to her sauce. She rounded the corner at the bottom of the stairs and slid to a stop, her fluffy socks sliding on the freshly waxed floors. Josh was sitting at the island, Timber at his feet.
“Don’t worry, I stirred it,” Charlotte grinned. “And I’ve asked Josh here to stay for dinner. There’s far too much Bolognese here for just the two of us.”
Megan’s heart started to hammer in her chest. She had been able to get through their short conversations at the door without fumbling her words, but would she be able to sit through an entire meal without making a fool of herself?
She shot Charlotte a glare and she grinned back.
The three of them sat down at the kitchen island for an informal spaghetti dinner. Megan cursed herself for throwing on another white t-shirt. This was the first time she had seen Josh without his insulated layers. He was wearing a tshirt with some ski brand she’d never heard of on it, but it said, ‘No friends on a powder day.’ His thick biceps still held a summer bronze and the tshirt was tight across his broad shoulders.
Megan plated the pasta while Charlotte opened a bottle of wine.
“Cheers,” Charlotte held up her glass and the trio clinked together the wine glasses, the unmistakable ting of real crystal rang out over the jazz background music Charlotte had put on.
The three of them dug into their pasta, twirling the long strands around their forks. “What does that mean?” Megan asked Josh, pointing at his shirt with her spoon.
Josh looked confused, but then looked down at his shirt and laughed. “You’re not a skier, are you?”
Megan flushed. “No, I’ve never been.”
Josh wiped his mouth with his napkin. “You mean to tell me you have a ski chalet in Chance Rapids and you don’t know how to ski?”
Megan couldn’t lie to him. She had allowed him to think she owned the house, and when he assumed that she owned the business, she didn’t correct him either. But she knew that it would all unravel around her, like an old worn sweater. When she thought that she would never see Josh again, it seemed okay to pretend to be someone else. Now, it just seemed like lying – because well, it was.
“This isn’t my—-”
“She’s scared of heights,” Charlotte interrupted. “That’s why she doesn’t ski.”
Shit.
Megan felt backed into a corner, her eyes darted between Josh and Charlotte, trying to figure out how to delicately get out of the situation without losing face with either of them.
“Good powder days can be few and far between, so when we get a good dumping, you don’t wait on your friends. You’ve gotta get out there and get ‘the goods’ before it gets all tracked out.”
Megan felt like Josh had just spoken another language but was still trying to figure out how to tell him the truth without betraying Charlotte, so she just nodded.
Charlotte set down her crusty garlic bread on her side plate. “How’s the snowpack up there right now?”
“Truthfully, I’ve got no idea,” Josh replied.
“Now, there’s something that doesn’t make sense either. A Rapidian who doesn’t know the depth of the snow this close to the season?”
“I don’t have much time for skiing these days,” Josh said, sopping up the sauce on his plate with his bread. “Where did you say you’re from?” he asked.
“Same place as Megan,” Charlotte replied without missing a beat.
“Haven’t heard one of us locals referred to as a Rapidian by an outsider before.”
“Outsider?” Charlotte scoffed.
“No offense, Miss. It’s just that the people on this side of the bridge don’t really mix with the year-round folks.”
“When did you move here?” Charlotte asked.
“How do you know I’m not a born and raised Rapidian?” Josh replied.
“Just a hunch,” Charlotte leaned in, challenging Josh.
“You’re right. I moved here when I was twenty.”
Charlotte sat back in her chair, Megan could tell that she was enjoying her interrogation. “Twenty. Why the hell does someone move here when they’re twenty?”
“My college girlfriend grew up here. I followed her here.”
“Who is she?” Charlotte grilled him.
“She’s gone,” Josh replied quietly.
“Oh. Well, that’s young love for you – and you were left here?”
“I like it here.”
Megan saw the sadness in Josh’s eyes and felt her chest constricting, she wanted to reach out and comfort the man, but instead cleared her throat. “Who’s ready for dessert?”
All three seemed to welcome the distraction and change in subject. “Only if it’s your signature brownies,” Charlotte yelled as Meg slid into the kitchen.
The brownies had come out of the oven only minutes before Josh’s arrival and were still warm inside. She cut them into small squares and topped them with a scoop of vanilla bean ice cream. She sprinkled the dish with fresh grated dark chocolate and confectioner’s sugar.
She set the plates down on the table and caught Josh’s eyes quickly glance away from her chest. She felt her ears burn and her hands started to shake.
“Megan, I don’t want to talk business at the table, but I want you to know that the guys worked overtime today, and we are back on schedule. We should have all of the heating, plumbing, and electrical work done by Friday and the drywallers have agreed to come in on the weekend.”
“What about the flooring?” Charlotte asked.
Josh looked at Charlotte and back to Megan, his brow furrowed.
“What about the flooring?” Megan parroted the question.
“Well, drywall is pretty messy, so I thought that you would want to wait until the dust has settled before starting in with the hardwood.”
“That makes sense.” Megan replied.
Josh took a bite of his brownie and seemed to melt a little bit
in his seat. “This is amazing,” he gushed, taking another bite. “What’s the secret?”
“I can’t tell you that.” Megan took a bite, wishing that she could tell Josh that she wasn’t really his boss, and that the secret ingredient was sea salt.
“You could sell this. I’m sure people would come for miles for this brownie.”
“It’s just a brownie,” Megan blushed.
Josh looked up at Megan and met her eyes for the first time the entire meal, “This isn’t ‘just a brownie’, it may look like a brownie, but there’s something special here, I just can’t put my finger on it.”
Megan felt butterflies rush to her abdomen and was sure that her face was the same color as the tomato sauce.
“More wine?” Charlotte lifted the bottle.
“None for me thanks,” Josh raised his hand. “I have to drive home, and Timber looks like he’s getting a little antsy.”
Megan followed his gaze and saw Timber sleeping peacefully on the rug in front of the fireplace.
“Thank you for dinner Megan,” Josh smiled and set his napkin on the table. “Can I help you with the dishes?”
“Sandy will take care of those,” Charlotte quipped automatically.
“I see. Well, I should be going,” Josh replied and stood up.
“I’ll walk you to the door,” Megan offered.
Megan walked behind Josh and tried to keep her gaze from settling on his butt. His was the ass of a professional hockey player, and she assumed his thighs were thick with muscles developed from skiing.
“Thanks again for watching Timber, and you should really think about selling those brownies.” Josh smiled as he pulled on his plaid jacket.
“Thank you for lighting a fire under the electrician. I know that I need to learn a little about small-town time.” Megan leaned against the doorframe and held Timber’s leash.
“So, you really don’t know how to ski?” Josh took Timber’s leash from Megan’s hand. His fingertip brushed hers and she swore she felt a zap of electricity. Static? No, she knew what static felt like, this was something different.
“No, but Charlotte might teach me.”
“How do you two know each other again?”
“Oh, we go to the same yoga class. Why?”
“For two best friends, you two seem really different.”
“Opposites attract, or so they say,” Megan said before her mind could stop the terrible cliché from tumbling out.
Shit.
“So, they say,” Josh mused. “Hey, would you like a crash course in how to survive in a small town?”
Megan was taken aback, it almost seemed like Josh was purposely lingering in the entryway, like he was trying to find reasons to stay. “Only if you think it will help me with managing the job site,” she replied, turning what seemed to be a date invitation, into something well, more appropriate.
Josh stood tall, “Yes, as a matter of fact, I think that it would.”
“Well, then, ok. As a matter of business, I’d love to take your course.”
Josh smiled and opened the door. “Alright. I’ll pick you up tomorrow after work.”
“It’s a dat... I mean, it’s an appointment?” Megan corrected herself.
“It’s an appointment.” Josh grinned. “Come on boy, he said to Timber and walked away.
“Wait!” Megan yelled. “What should I, um, wear?”
Josh laughed. “Something warm.”
Chapter 15
Megan’s hands shook as she pulled open the heavy door to the job site. Armed with a checklist from Charlotte, she proceeded to check in with each of the guys on the job site. With the exception of one – Josh. She didn’t know where he was, but every time the door opened, she felt like she was going to jump out of her skin. She kept glancing around the site, expecting to see his familiar plaid jacket, but there was no sign of him.
“Are we ready for the electrical inspector?” she asked Freddie, the electrician.
“You betcha,” he grinned at her. She couldn’t help but smile back, the electrician looked like a young Clint Eastwood. “And who arranges that inspection?” she asked.
“I’ll do it for you,” he said, pulling out a clipboard.
“Oh, that’s not necessary, just give me his contact info.”
“You’re looking at him,” Freddie proceeded to theatrically sign the bottom of an official-looking form. He ripped off the perforated sheet and handed it to Megan. “At your service, m’lady.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me. You’re inspecting your own work?”
“Ha,” Freddie cackled. “Josh told me you weren’t up to speed with the way we do things here.”
“Oh, he did, did he?” Megan could feel the heat rising in her cheeks. “Speaking of Josh, where is he?”
“Oh, well, you know that fancy designer of yours? The one that keeps changing her mind about the layout?”
“Sarah.” Megan nodded. She had sympathized with the framers after they’d had to reconfigure the interior walls for the third time. Sarah was one of the top designers in the city and had only been to the job site once. Now that Megan was on the ground, the big city players didn’t have to show their faces and Megan wondered if they were taking advantage of her, or if this was the status quo.
“Yeah, Sarah. Well, she sent over some drawing for the tables and bench seats, and Josh has been working on those at his house. Once the drywallers get finished in here, this place will come together in a flash.”
“A flash. I thought that didn’t happen in Chance Rapids.” Megan elbowed Freddie.
“Well, I guess the crew likes their new boss.” Freddie took off his tool belt and sat down on a sawhorse. He looked up at her and gave her a wink.
Freddie was cute, and definitely had one of the best bodies she had seen in years, his shoulders and firm pecs filling out his tight thermal shirt, but he had an air of cockiness and was a little too smooth for her. She had the feeling that the man in front of her could get any woman into his bed, and she had no desire to be one of his conquests.
“So, now we’re just waiting on the drywallers,” Megan stated, hoping that she sounded confident.
“Yeah,” Freddie drawled. “I hope that you’ve got all the appliances on their way. You never know when an avalanche is going to stop anything, or anyone, from getting to town.”
“Or out,” Megan replied. The realization of just how isolated she was in Chance Rapids suddenly falling heavily on her shoulders. How long could she keep pretending to me someone else? When would she overstay her welcome at Charlotte’s?
Freddie opened the back door, pulled a beer out of the snowbank and cracked it open. He held the can out to Megan, “Beer?”
“It’s two in the afternoon,” Megan held up her hands in front of her. “Aren’t you at work?”
“It doesn’t matter what time it is. I’m done for the day. So is everyone else.” Freddie gestured around the room and Megan noticed that the rest of the workers had left.
“Do you have staff all lined up for the opening?” Freddie asked and took a swig of his beer.
“Almost,” Megan lied. She made a mental note to talk to Charlotte about the next steps. The project was moving along a lot faster than she had anticipated. A mid-December opening date, coinciding with the opening of the ski resort, wasn’t out of the question. “Hey, where does Josh live? I want to check in on those tables,” her voice wavered.
Freddie smiled at her. “Checking up on those tables, huh?”
“Yes,” Megan snapped at Freddie, her eyes flashing.
“Whoa, Nelly.” Freddie grinned, a little less confidently this time. “He’s on Bristlecone St. Head down the main street and take a left at the gas station, that’s Bristlecone. Josh’s place is on the left. You can’t miss it. He’s got a picket fence.”
“Josh has a white picket fence?” Megan stood up and brushed the sawdust off her jeans.
“Hahaha.” Freddie laughed. “White picket. Fence. No.” He
managed to spit out between laughter. “It’s number 88. You’ll see what I mean.”
Megan was intrigued. “Thanks, Freddie.”
“No problem, ma’am.”
Megan stiffened. There it was again. Ma’am. She turned to face Freddie. “Thank you for all of your hard work this past week. I really appreciate it.”
“You got it, babe,” Freddie said and saluted Megan with his beer can in hand.
Babe. This guy was all over the map. “Babe?”
“Shit. Force of habit I guess.”
Megan would never admit it, but if she had to pick between babe and ma’am, it was babe all the way.
She pulled on her striped hat and headed out down the street, her boots leaving footprints in the three inches of fresh snow that had fallen since she got to the job site. The stores had all put up their Christmas lights and she glanced at their displays through their frosted windows as she strolled down the street.
Let’s hear those sleigh bells –
Megan jumped as the familiar Christmas carol rang out into the street followed by terrible static and squelching feedback sounds.
Ring- a -ling, ting, ting, ting, a ling too.
She looked up and saw that each of the black streetlamps had a little speaker and the soft sounds of Mariah Carey’s Christmas were lilting through the air in between the gently falling snow. She saw a crew of workers finishing up the wreaths and garlands. One of the old guys wearing a Chance Rapids Maintenance jackets tipped his hat at her.
“Apologies, Miss. We’ve got a short in the wire, but it should be sorted out soon.”
Megan turned and looked behind her and saw Freddie jogging across the street.
“I think you’re in good hands.” She smiled, and the old man smiled back.
“Merry Christmas,” he said and patted her on the arm with his leather mitten.
“Merry Christmas,” Megan replied. The words felt foreign to her. It wasn’t something that she said to strangers back in the city. It felt good.
