In This Moment

Chapter Eight

Graham waited for the hostess to walk away before glancing around. Guac On was located almost directly across the street from the Gazette. It was on the smaller side, like the other storefronts, but they utilized space to their advantage. The bar to the left of the door only seated eight, hightop tables filled the center, and booths on the right. Yellow walls with painted murals of iguanas. Dark hardwood floors.

“Never seen it this empty in here.” There were only a few other patrons. He scratched his jaw. “I get takeout from here a couple times a week.”

“Past the dinner rush.” She glanced at her watch. “It’s almost eight. They close in an hour. It’s a weeknight, too. They’re packed to the gills during lunch and dinner.”

Yeah, he could attest to that. He’d learned to call in his meal ahead of time.

Maria, one of the owners who often took Graham’s orders, came over with a pad and pencil, her salt and pepper hair in a loose bun. “Rebecca Moore. When did you get back in Vallantine?” Her grin indicated friendliness in the inquiry.

Rebecca returned the affection. “Not long ago. I’m so glad you and Juan still own the place. How’s Veronica? I haven’t seen her in ages.”

“Oh,” Maria waved her hand, “so busy these days. She’s in Charlotte now with a husband and a bambino on the way. We’re excited.”

“I bet. Send her my regards.”

“I will.” Maria eyed Graham. “Nice to see you eating with company tonight.” Wink. “You make a good couple.”

Rebecca laughed. “It’s a working dinner, Miss Maria.”

“Mmhmm. What would you lovebirds like to drink?”

Rubbing her forehead, Rebecca chuckled through a sigh. “Strawberry daquiri, please.”

“I’ll have a margarita on the rocks.”

After Maria left, Rebecca studied the menu. “They used to have the best enchiladas. I went to school with their daughter. We weren’t close, but she was cool.”

“I get the enchiladas often.” He pushed his menu aside, already knowing what he wanted, and trying to imagine a younger version of her. “I suspect you were one of the cool girls in high school.”

She eyed him over the menu. “We didn’t have a lot of cliques or tiers of popularity here. Small graduating class.”

He doubted that. The popular part, not the size of her class, but he let it slide. “I don’t know about you, but I could eat my own hand right now.” They’d skipped lunch.

“And my left leg.”

She had the quickest comebacks that either amused or flustered the hell out of him. “Just your left?”

“For now.” Setting the menu down, she leaned forward. “Know what we should do? Write a weekly differing opinion article. Any given topic. Our discussion earlier about ghosts and houses got me thinking.”

He questioned if she ever quit thinking. Though their chats proved how polar opposite they were, he found her mind fascinating. She was always respectful of his opinion and in her counter replies. “You’re a sleep-walker, aren’t you? I bet you talk in your sleep, too.”

She straightened. “Are you saying I talk too much?”

“Not even implied.” They could be arguing about the color blue, and he’d gladly listen. She’d probably conjure ten bullet points he’d never heard of to back her side. He’d only have one…and it would pertain to her eyes.

“Well, I don’t sleepwalk and, that I’m aware, don’t talk in my sleep, either.” Idly, she tapped her fingers on the table. “Haven’t slept with anyone in a hot minute, so I can’t verify.”

Just how long, precisely, was a “hot minute?”

Maria returned with their drinks, then took their order. Rebecca got a steak fajita salad with cornbread and him a taco platter with rice. He couldn’t wait. His stomach was rumbling now that there was no work to focus on.

Distraction was needed, but she jumped the gun on him before he could ask her anything.

“You grew up in Minnesota? Is your family still there?”

“I did and they are. My parents are in a suburb near Minneapolis. Dad’s folks are gone, but Mom’s live close to them. I have a few aunts and uncles on both sides, and a scattering of cousins.”

She smiled. “Big family. Bet holidays were fun.”

“Oh, yeah.” And loud. It dawned on him again she didn’t have any family left. He didn’t know what he’d do without his, even though he didn’t get to see them often. “Was it difficult for you moving so far away from your grandmother for school or work?”

“At first.” Her face scrunched in an adorable wishy-washy thought process he’d caught in a few instances before. “I always had chores and she taught me how to cook, so I was self-reliant, but the absence of her being in the next room was tough. I came home often as I could and we talked nearly every day by phone.” The edges of her eyes cast downward as her expression fell. “There’s been many times since she’s passed that I open my mouth to call for her, to ask a question, to tell her about my day, only to remember she’s gone.”

She offered an absent shake of her head, yet the anguish in her baby blues remained.

“I’m sorry.” And he was. Immensely. Sentiments and general condolence offers rarely made those left behind feel better, but he was at a loss for words on a proper reply. He could only generally sympathize with her situation, as he’d not lost anyone he loved that much, but he could imagine how he’d take the news if his parents died. Even then, he had other family to lighten the burden and grieve with him.

Maybe he and Rebecca were getting closer or a bond was forming after working side-by-side. There was no other explanation for the tightness in his windpipe or the absurd urge to hold her.

A delicate clearing of her throat, and she politely smiled. “What are your parents like?”

“Pretty awesome, actually.” Grateful for the topic change, he took a sip of his margarita. Damn, it was good. The right mix of tequila and sour lime. Most bars mucked it up. “Mom’s an estate attorney and Dad kind of does a bit of everything. He stayed home with me growing up, taking odd jobs here and there.”

“A jack of all trades.”

“Yes.” Thankfully, the light was back in her eyes. He took the win. “You got something broken, he can probably fix it. Or install it.”

She smiled around her straw as she took a sip. “Unusual for our generation to have the stereotypical gender role reversal. That’s awesome.”

“I never thought about it as a kid, but yeah. Mom worked, Dad stayed home, and that was my normal. He cooked, helped me with homework, threw the ball around in the yard, packed my lunches. They’re both immensely supportive.”

“That’s amazing.”

It was, and something he’d not take for granted again. He couldn’t fathom what it was like for her, having her folks taken from her, and at an age when she was old enough to realize what was gone.

“I bet they’re very proud of you.”

They were, even if he wasn’t. “I think so.”

Maria dropped off their meals, and neither wasted any time digging in.

They ate in silence for a short while, a comfortable one. Most people felt the need to fill quiet with inane chatter or mundane conversation. Not Rebecca. She seemed to appreciate the solitude when it came instead of being awkward. And when they did talk, if not about the Gazette, they had interesting discussions or debates.

She speared a bite of her salad, pointing the fork at him. “What made you move all the way down here if your family is up there? I know you’re college buddies with Forest, but still.”

How about that? He almost lost his appetite. Her inquiry wasn’t meant to be intrusive. Even if he didn’t know her well yet, it was a common question.

Forcing himself to swallow, he wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Long story.”

Her brows shot up, but she remained mute.

Sighing, he stared at his plate, contemplating. If she dug deep enough on Google, she might find out anyway. He just hadn’t talked about it with many people. The short version with his family, a slightly longer one with Forest, glossing over it with Gunner Davis during the hiring process. Buying time, he took another sip of margarita.

“You don’t have to tell me.”

“It’s okay.” He raised his palm. “It’s not my proudest moment.” It had all but killed his career, in fact. Where to start, though? Backstory would help her relate. “Since I was a kid, I’ve wanted to be a journalist. I watched the news with my mom, and I’d think to myself, that’s what I want to do when I grow up. I’d get to be with people, travel, and write about interesting things. But I never saw a lot of personal stories in the news, or when I did, they were brief and only in relation to a catastrophic event. Earthquakes, tornados, fires, war, and all I wanted to learn about was the people it affected.”

She smiled, and something in her expression made him realize she understood, even before she tried to comment. “Like interviewing Edgar Allen Poe, but instead of asking about his literary works, you delve into his military or love life to see when and how he became so macabre.”

“Yes! Exactly.” She did get it.

“Sounds like you’re a biography nut. More how and less why.”

“Yeah.” No truer words. “Anyway, in college, professors helped me hone my craft, and I developed a niche for really getting to the heart of a matter. Afterward, I was hired as one of the lead columnists at a newspaper. Unfortunately, due to my skill set, I wound up writing mostly political commentary. Not what I wanted, yet I could dredge secrets, and find a spin on a situation most couldn’t. I often did the best I could to steer toward topics that dealt with the community in interviews and ask the questions common reporters missed.”

Encouraging him, she nodded, focusing on him, their food forgotten.

“Over time, I had built quite the reputation as taking no punches. Politicians, their staff? They’d take my calls and talk, all the way down to city council. Had quite a few informants and back door entrances to get a scoop.” His gut clenched even now, thinking how far he’d fallen.

“There was a small county upstate, and a mayor some say the attorney general was grooming to replace him upon retirement. Elected position, but it may run uncontested or a plug would get the job done. There was also a secretary of state and a few commissioner bids up for reelection soon, and many lower positions. High political climate. All over the news. Speculation. Accusations on all sides. I’d been covering it periodically over the span of six months.”

He rubbed his jaw, thinking how to explain. “Something wasn’t right with the upstate situation, though. I could feel it in my gut. Because of other crap going on, that story was moot as far as everyone was concerned. I mentioned it to my editor, and she gave me the clearance to go.”

Exhaling, he leaned back in his seat. “The mayor came from a rags to riches family. Hush-hush on how they accumulated millions. Seedy business transactions. No trail on why the attorney general might be interested in this guy.” He shrugged. “I wormed my way into the mayor’s office, doing a series of interviews over the following weeks. He thought the attention would help his career down the road, so he complied. Meanwhile, my informant in his office was feeding me intel to blow the whole thing wide open. I slowly trickle these into my column three days a week. Drunk driving charge at age twenty-one that paralyzed his passenger? Swept under the rug.”

“If it bleeds, it leads.”

“Yep. Started with that story for that very reason to begin opening his web of lies.” He stared at his half-eaten food, hating himself. “Everything the informant told me panned out. An extramarital affair where he forced an abortion on his mistress. Racism slurs. Five articles total. Meanwhile, the community was in an uproar and my stories were getting national attention.”

A humming noise, and she offered a sympathetic pout. “This day and age, the public almost doesn’t care anymore with the way sides are divided.”

True story. “Either way, this guy was shady as shit.” He shook his head. “My man on the inside had proven to be a confidential reliable source. Even though I looked into everything he fed me, he’d been right.”

Graham paused as his stomach rolled. “I was such an idiot. Things had gone cold for a few days. One night, I’m packing my suitcase in the hotel, ready to head home, thinking I’m done, when the informant called. He told me our guy had made his millions in a drug ring with legit businesses as a front. I’d dug into his financials prior, and they were off, but could never put my finger on why. I took the deets to my editor, who told me to go with it.”

“Oh, no,” she breathed, eyes wide. “The source had bad info?”

“The source had his own agenda, using me as a pawn. I wrote the story.”

Hand trembling, she covered her mouth. “Oh, wow.”

He slammed the rest of his margarita, wishing it was bourbon. “He gained my trust. I wrote. All facts. Until they weren’t.” Graham rubbed his eyes, nauseous. “They were in on it the entire time. All of them. Informant, mayor, and I suspect, the attorney general.”

Her jaw dropped. “They figured some of his past would come out if he obtained higher political office.” She slowly shook her head in awe. “Why not use you to do it, then discredit one story, rendering all your articles suspicious.”

“Yep.” And Graham fell for it. Hook, line, and sinker.

“That’s horrible, but you didn’t know. You had a source telling you otherwise.”

“Didn’t matter. Extremely high-profile case, because I made it so, and then I reported bad intel. They filed a slander suit against my newspaper. I was fired in dramatic fashion. And my informant? He announced his run for city council two weeks later.”

Her hand slapped the table. “Holy crap.”

“Yeah. The paper redacted all the articles and issued a public apology. The lawsuit was settled in under a week with a payout. My reputation was ruined.” He rolled his head to stretch his neck. “I laid low for six months.” He’d had to use all his money in savings and part of his 401K to stay afloat. “Figured I’d apply elsewhere when things died down.” But they didn’t die. Every place he’d applied had said he was a liability.

Abject sympathy he didn’t deserve stared back at him. “I’m so sorry.”

“My fault.” That was life. His life.

Her expression said she disagreed. “Journalism has been listed as one of the worst careers in America for three years in a row because of environment, low salary, stress, and long hours. You went to your editor with the story. You wrote the facts as you knew them. You had a source for information. You did your job.”

Yet, here he was, in Small Town, Nowhere, America, editing a newspaper where his sole reporter had better concepts and execution in her pinkie than he did in his whole body.

Regardless, he appreciated her reaction. To be honest, he was more than a little concerned she’d hate him. “Thanks.”

She took a sip of her daquiri. “Your editor should’ve had your back instead of throwing you under the bus.”

Maybe, but with a lawsuit and all the negative media, he couldn’t blame her. “She did what she had to.”

Staring awfully hard into her drink, she tilted her head. “You applied for the Gazette position, then? After waiting for things to blow over?”

“Eh, for the most part.” Nowhere else would hire him. “Forest had just gotten his divorce and came up for a long weekend to visit. I told him what happened, and he mentioned your mayor was looking into filling an editor position. I had Gunner call me, and we did some interviews via video chat. He knew about the scandal, but didn’t seem to care. He just wanted to get the Gazette overhauled.”

“I’m glad he knows, just so it doesn’t come back to bite you.”

Irritation tapped his temples. “I’m an honest person. I would’ve told him if Forest hadn’t mentioned it first. I did address the situation in one of our calls, regardless.”

Her wide, surprised gaze jerked to his. “I didn’t mean it that way.”

He realized that too late for him to retract his response.

“My bad.” After watching her reaction and reminding himself of all she’d done for him, the paper, and how she’d responded to what had happened to him, he believed her. She didn’t appear to blame him, even if he did. “Touchy subject.”

Actually, to date, she was the sole person he’d told the entirety of the scandal. He didn’t know why, nor understood, but maybe it had to do with her not having been happy in the same field of work as him and also winding up here. She’d comprehend the logistics, too, being a journalist.

“I just meant that you were screwed over once, and I’d hate to see it happen again.”

Unsure what to say, like a handful of encounters before, he just stared. She’d thrown him for a loop in the office when she’d defended him. To himself. Bolstered and encouraged instead of taking all the credit. The damn lil spitfire had actually sat across from his desk, and ticked off merits of why she’d thought he was a good boss.

Maria came by, collected their plates, and offered refills.

Without realizing it, they’d been sitting in the booth for over an hour, so Graham asked for the bill and paid it. Guac On was past its closing time.

Outside, he took a healthy gulp of air, not spotting her car. “Where are you parked?”

“Usually, I pull in the alley behind the building, but I walked today.”

So had he. “Walk you home?”

“Sure.” She smiled, turning, tugging her purse strap higher on her shoulder.

They strolled in silence a beat, and again he was struck by the sleepiness of after-hours. All the storefronts were closed. Streetlamps created a mystic yellow glow on the cobblestones. Very few pedestrians. No noise but crickets and a whoosh through the leaves from a breeze.

Perhaps one day, he’d get used to it.

“You know,” he offered a side-glance, “good thing I was here to walk you home. Really dangerous around these parts.”

She emitted the most sensual, gut-clenching laugh. Like smoke under a doorjamb. He had to exert effort to not groan aloud.

“Come now. Don’t be making fun of our precious Vallantine. We do have our share of crime from time to time.”

Ha. “Like gossip? One of the gals at the salon get a bad perm? A gentleman get screwed in a game of golf? Terrible tippers at Tipsy Turtle?”

“Aw, you’re stereotyping again.” Amusement lit her expression as she stared ahead. And that delightful southern drawl he was beginning to adore made a reappearance. “High crimes, indeed. But, no. Petty stuff, mostly. Some tourism-related vandals or theft. I don’t think we’ve had a murder here since the twenties.”

“As in, 2020?”

“1920, dear sir. A brawl between brothers over a woman, if I recall.”

“Huh.” That was quite surprising, all joking aside. “Regardless, I’m glad you’re not walking alone.”

“Big, strong man protect me,” she mocked in a low grunt.

He laughed. She was something else. “That’s right.”

Digging in her purse, she extracted a small pink cylinder. “Pepper spray. Also had self defense classes in college. I can protect myself.”

“Never had a doubt.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “You’ll have to show me some of those skills sometime.”

Abruptly, she halted, hands on her hips. “Are you flirting with me?”

Criminy, he was, wasn’t he?

“Gonna plead the fifth.” Since she seemed more amused than affronted, he started their trek anew. “I will say this, Ms. Moore. You’re a smart cookie.” A delicious looking one, at that.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He debated, then said the hell with it. “Pretty, too.”

“Thank you. Not so bad yourself.”

It had been a while since he’d done this dance, but he could’ve sworn she was… “Are you flirting with me?”

“Gonna plead the fifth,” she mocked.

The little minx.

They rounded a corner, leaving Main Square behind, heading toward their subdivision. Cobblestones changed over to regular concrete sidewalks and old-world lampposts became LED streetlights. Full magnolia trees created a canopy along the curb.

The longer their pause in conversation hung, the more his fingers itched to touch. Her petal soft fair skin. Her blonde locks that created loose waves down her spine. Plush lips that begged to be kissed. Since the first instance he’d laid eyes on her, he’d found her attractive. Getting to know her better only amplified his interest.

And she was giving off vibes that implied he wasn’t alone. He could all but see, feel, and hear the crackle between them.

He just didn’t know what in the hell to do about it. Not only was he her boss and neighbor, but he wasn’t exactly in a great place to…

She’d quit walking.

Turning, he looked at her. Moonlight cast her in ethereal tones. So lovely. Starlight, actual starlight, reflected in her eyes as she stood on the sidewalk, apparently waiting for something.

He shook his head, because words failed him, and he didn’t know what she wanted.

Crickets chirped. An owl hooted.

A crinkle of her nose, and she pointed to her left.

Well, shit. Alrighty. They were home, and he hadn’t noticed.

Smile. “Goodnight, Graham. See you tomorrow.”

Sighing heavily, he watched her walk into her house and out of sight.