Chapter 3
“You met a hot female mechanic and you didn’t get her number? Have you gone straight on us?”
Ash’s voice is tinny through the shaky Wi-Fi, but the familiarity of his scolding warms Eleanor all the same. She takes a sip of wine, pulling the blanket up higher over her legs to ward against the chilly evening air.
“Also, why won’t you video chat?” Kayla chimes in.
Eleanor sighs, rubbing her freshly moisturized face. “I look like shit.”
“You probably look better than I do with all that rest you’re getting.”
Eleanor highly doubts that since Kayla consistently looks like she’s ready to walk a runway with her willowy frame and angular face. Still, she appreciates the sentiment.
“The service is bad out here,” Eleanor says instead. She’s three glasses of wine deep and dressed in her pyjamas to watch the sunset from her deck. A long video conference is the last thing she wants, even with her best friends.
“Can we get back to the hot mechanic, please?” Ash says. “And Eleanor’s truly startling lack of game?”
Kayla latches on before Eleanor can protest. “Yeah, what’s with that? You’re there till, what, July probably? Why not try to have a little fun?”
“I doubt she’s interested. I don’t even know if she’s gay. Besides, I didn’t come here to get entangled. It makes things too complicated.” The last of the day’s light fades over the treeline, and Eleanor sighs as the mosquitoes start to descend.
“I’m not saying you should get entangled.” Kayla’s voice cuts out slightly as Eleanor gathers her blanket and wineglass and escapes the great outdoors. Slamming the sliding glass door shut behind her, she drapes the blanket over the back of her couch and sinks onto a soft cushion.
“I dunno, entanglement can be fun if you use the right rope,” Ash says. Eleanor can almost see the wink he would have thrown if he were here.
“I don’t think Eleanor could handle maintaining your Rolodex of Grindr tops,” Kayla says. Eleanor hears the reverberation of a playful smack. “Ow—what? Eleanor doesn’t have it in her to be a joyful gay tramp like you.”
Ash huffs, but he has no retort.
“All I’m saying is that a summer fling might do you good,” Kayla says much more rationally. “You’ll never know if she’s gay if you don’t flirt a little. Relax, hang out, make some friends, get yourself laid, and unclench. You don’t need to submit a formal request.”
Eleanor groans, flopping back onto the throw pillows. It’s not like she’s inexperienced by any far stretch. Casual connections are her bread and butter. But a summer fling? Honestly, “submitting a formal request” isn’t far off from Eleanor’s usual style. Her relationship with Lydia was governed by strict rules on both sides to eliminate any need for conflict or hurt feelings. It stopped just short of including a written agreement.
Lydia had deemed it unnecessary when Eleanor made that suggestion.
“I’m going to keep to myself like I said I would,” Eleanor tells her friends.
“Suit yourself, Mother Theresa,” Ash scoffs.
“If you guys only called to make fun of me, I’m hanging up.”
“No, no, I’m sorry,” Kayla cuts in. “We tease because we love. We want you to have the best vacation possible.”
“You said I needed rest and relaxation, and I’m getting some.”
“Doesn’t sound like you’re getting some ,” Ash mutters.
Eleanor rolls her eyes. Before either of them can protest, she’s already disconnected the call.
She continues with her night uninterrupted after that, throwing together a quick pasta for dinner and luxuriating in a long, hot bath. She settles into bed, window shades thrown open to let the moonlight filter in, and reads three chapters of the latest book in her years-long backlog of unread novels. But the conversation stays with her.
Her intention for the summer was isolation. It’s what she’s craved for years, what she’s missed the most from her life before her shift to CEO—the ability to retreat to somewhere quiet and work in peace. But her brief interaction with Dani, and the way it’s stayed in her mind, does point to a surprising yet persistent desire to do something besides work, a pull to see the blonde mechanic again.
With an easy month and a half remaining on her project deadline, Eleanor branches out.
She starts venturing into town more often, increasing her frequency the more she realizes that Dani is surprisingly hard to pin down. She makes up more and more far-fetched excuses to herself—she forgot something from her grocery list, she needs a specific type of copper wire for a project, the coffee she brewed isn’t good enough and she absolutely needs to get one from the gas station or the little café in town—but despite her hopes of seeing Dani again, it never lines up.
Dani seems to work constantly. Eleanor only gets glimpses of her—always visible by her blue ballcap—through the open garage doors whenever she drives past the shop. She’s sure that Dani is too busy to see it, but Eleanor can’t help but hope that once or twice, Dani notices the Porsche passing by.
No matter how much Eleanor wishes it would break down again simply for the excuse to see her, Dani’s skillful fix keeps the car in tragically working order.
* * *
Less than a week later, Eleanor gets desperate enough to drag herself to the local bar.
She’s driven past it before, but until now, she’s never considered stopping. Eleanor prefers to do her drinking in private, and indulging in domestic beer with the owners of the dozen pickup trucks in the parking lot isn’t generally her idea of a good time. But it’s the only establishment in town. There’s a chance, however small, that Dani could be there.
With her nerves steeled by the pep talk she gives herself in the car, Eleanor heads toward the illuminated neon sign for The River Run.
The bar is small, unassuming, and inexplicably attached to the town’s pizzeria. The smell combination of beer and decades-old cigarette smoke hits her nose at the same time as the scent of baking bread and cheese. It’s strange but not completely unpleasant.
The decor is more jarring than the warring scents. The bar is partially carpeted, a decorative trend that Eleanor previously thought had died in the mid-’90s. The tables and chairs are mismatched and purely functional. One table even has a plastic lawn chair for seating, and Eleanor can see that the wooden tabletops are scratched and carved with graffiti. The only part of the place that seems new is the bar top itself. It’s shiny and well-kept and tended by a scowling young woman whose white-blonde hair is streaked with neon blue.
Eleanor sweeps her eyes over the row of hunched backs huddled on the bar stools, most of them watching what looks to be a game of curling on the television hung above the shelves of liquor, but none of them have Dani’s dark-blonde ponytail. In fact, none of the tables seem to hold the woman Eleanor is looking for.
She’s about to give up and head home after a mere fifteen seconds in the bar when the door to the women’s washroom swings open, and out walks the person who has been haunting Eleanor’s thoughts all week.
“All right, pal. Now that I don’t have to pee so bad I can’t think straight, let’s play,” Dani says, picking up a pool cue and heading toward the faded pool table in the bar’s back corner.
“Again?” A pale, wiry man with fluffy, brown hair sitting with one of the larger groups nearby groans, hanging his head. “How many times do you have to beat me before you get tired of it?”
“I’ll get tired when I finally lose,” Dani says with a grin that goes right to Eleanor’s toes even though it isn’t directed at her. She’s wearing that same ballcap from the day they met, over the same ponytail, but this time it’s paired with loose jeans and a much cleaner white T-shirt. The denim has more than a few frayed holes and hangs low on her hips. Her work boots make her footfalls sound heavy on the carpet.
The look absolutely should not be working for Eleanor, and yet her body undeniably heats up as Dani leans back against the pool table to wait for an opponent.
Once again, Eleanor is struck by the ease of Dani’s movement. It’s like she’s never known a day of uncertainty in her life—Dani walks with a loping grace, holding herself with an easy, gentle sort of masculinity that only makes her more appealing. Confident without being cocky. Open and warm and strangely enticing.
The way the T-shirt hugs her frame doesn’t hurt either.
“Come on, leave Ryan alone,” a deeper voice says. Eleanor recognizes Owen, the tow truck driver from Dani’s shop, when he slings an arm over Ryan’s narrow shoulders. “Let the man drink in peace.”
Dani sighs, setting the cue down and leaning on it like a walking stick. “Fine. One of these days, I’m going to find someone who puts up a challenge.”
Ryan looks relieved to be released from duty. He empties his glass in a gulp, and Owen refills it from the dregs of the pitcher sitting on the table between them.
“Can we get another pitcher for the sore loser?” Dani calls to the bartender, who doesn’t spare her a glance.
“Go fuck yourself, Cooper,” the bartender calls back, but she’s already grabbing Dani’s order.
“Thanks, Jenny,” Dani singsongs.
Laughter ripples through the bar. Dani is clearly well-known and liked here. Eleanor, in contrast, has rarely experienced anything but indifference, awkwardness, or outright hostility in a large group like this.
And that moment—as Eleanor is staring like an idiot at Dani and her friends—is when Dani notices her.
Inexplicably Dani’s eyes brighten. She sticks a hand in the air, eyes still on Eleanor, and waves.
“Nora! I didn’t expect to see you again!”
The whole table turns to look at Eleanor.
The warm, pizza-scented bar suddenly feels unbearably hot. Eleanor briefly considers running for it, turning on her heel and sprinting back out to the car and pretending this never happened, but Dani is already gesturing her over and Eleanor’s feet seem to be moving of their own volition.
“Dani, hi,” Eleanor says as she draws even with the table, nodding politely at Dani’s friends. “I was just…stopping by for a drink.”
Eleanor hates how breathy her voice sounds to her own ears. Nobody comments on it, though, and Dani’s smile is bright enough that Eleanor might have felt relaxed if she didn’t now have a whole new group of people to socialize with.
“Come sit with us!” Dani insists. Eleanor waves awkwardly as Dani pulls out a chair for her. “You know Owen already, but this is Ryan. Ryan, meet Nora! I fixed her car the other day.”
Owen flashes a warm grin, and Ryan waves jovially, halfway through chugging Owen’s beer.
“He’s terrible at pool, but Ryan’s our resident tech expert as well as a beer thief,” Dani says, clapping Ryan on the shoulder. “He’s the only IT game in town. Mostly meaning that the retirees call him to fix their email.”
“Hey! I help everyone,” Ryan protests, sitting up straighter and setting down the empty glass. “Who fixed your computer last weekend, Dani?”
Dani refills his pint, but only halfway. “And who fixed the alarm system at the shop after you set it off so bad the firefighters came in from Wyvale?”
“…you did,” Ryan admits, slowly deflating back into his seat as a new pitcher lands on the table. “Damn. I was hoping everyone had forgotten about that.”
“My memory is as solid as my pool game,” Dani says, throwing her arms wide in a confident shrug. “I’m unbeatable.”
Eleanor has no idea what possesses her to say it. Maybe it’s the hot, stuffy air of the bar making her lose her sanity or the way Dani is smiling at her in that cocksure but somehow still kind-hearted way that makes Eleanor’s knees a little weak, but before she can stop herself, she’s opening her mouth.
“I doubt that.”
A chorus of oooohs ring around the table. Owen slaps the wooden surface gleefully and points at Dani. “That sounded like a challenge!”
“It sure did,” Dani says, and the impressed look on her face is almost worth Eleanor’s temporary mania. “Wanna play?”
Five minutes later Eleanor is standing across the pool table from Dani with a cue in her hand, about to start a game she’s never tried before.
Eleanor knows the rules (after a covert and frantic Google search while Dani set the balls up) and it’s not like it’s a terribly physical activity. It’s hitting things with a stick. Analyzing speed and trajectories. Physics, at its basic level, and a bit of hand-eye coordination. It’s not rocket science.
“So you’re new in town, huh?” Dani asks, breaking the triangle of balls and sending them scattering across the felt. Two solid colours sink into the holes. Eleanor takes quiet note of Dani’s posture, the way she holds the pool cue, and adjusts her own position.
“Is that everyone’s first question?”
“Riverwalk is a pretty small place. When someone new comes along, people get curious. And most people here don’t see a lot of Porsches,” Dani says, sinking yet another shot. Her third misses, though, and Dani concedes the turn to Eleanor gracefully.
Eleanor laughs despite herself as she surveys the table. “I guess I stand out.”
“In more ways than one.”
Eleanor can’t stop the nervous laugh that erupts at the unexpected compliment. She knows she’s blushing, but thankfully Dani is mostly looking at the pool table.
“When you brought your car in, I figured you were just passing through,” Dani continues, blessedly changing the subject as Eleanor lines up her first shot. “We don’t get a lot of long-term stays.”
“I’m renting a place on the bay.” Eleanor hits the ball she’s aiming for but slightly too hard and at the wrong angle. It knocks into her intended target crookedly and ends up far away from where it needs to be.
She frowns as Dani lines up a new shot, mentally adjusting her technique for next time.
“Down by the island?” Dani says, whistling low and hitting another good shot. She’s confident with it, quick and practiced. “Pricey. Although I’m saying this to the woman with the nicest car in town, so I shouldn’t be surprised.”
Dani doesn’t look put off, or even jealous. She looks impressed. And she looks even more impressed after her next miss, when Eleanor snaps her cue and, with devastating precision, sends a striped ball falling into place down the pot.
Dani’s eyebrows raise. The approval Eleanor sees in her bright blue eyes as she sinks another before missing again is invigorating.
“I didn’t realize I was playing a pro!” Dani lines up a simpler shot. Eleanor can’t take her eyes away from the arch of Dani’s back as she leans over the table, the way she chews on her lip as she concentrates. The skin comes away red and a little wet, and Eleanor has a sudden and overwhelming urge to bite at it herself.
“Would you believe me if I told you I’ve never played before?” Eleanor asks, swallowing that impulse down. She tries to distract herself by staring at the action on the table, but said action skids to a halt at her words.
“No!” Dani says incredulously. She straightens and leans on her pool cue, shaking her head. “Is this seriously your first time?”
“I prefer chess.”
Dani laughs, lining up another shot. “Well, your talents are wasted there. You could clean up at a pool tournament.”
Dani takes her shot as she says it. She winces when the ball bounces off at a bad angle, spinning across the table and nudging one of Eleanor’s instead. “Shoot. Looks like you’re up.”
A few minutes later Dani is removing her hat in respect as Eleanor sinks her final ball with a flourish while one of Dani’s remains on the table. The ponytail underneath the hat is messy and endearing. She looks like she’s about to congratulate Eleanor on the win, but she’s interrupted by her friends.
“She kicked your ass, Cooper!” Owen crows, clapping loudly and startling Eleanor out of the Dani-bubble she’s been suspended in for the whole game. She’d completely forgotten that there were other people in the bar until just now.
“I don’t know who you are, Nora, but if you can keep beating her winning streak, I hope you come back every night,” Ryan says, clapping Eleanor on the shoulder. His hand slides off soon after, but Eleanor’s usual urge to shrug off the physical contact is strangely absent in the company of Dani’s friends. Ryan is clearly a few steps past intoxicated, but the invitation is flattering all the same.
The rest of the night passes pleasantly. Eleanor stays for one drink, contributing as often as seems polite, but most of her time is spent looking at Dani. How her smile makes her eyes crinkle at the corners. The softness of her lips, which she tends to chew at like a fidget when she isn’t talking. The way she always manages to catch Eleanor’s eye and wink whenever Eleanor’s starting to feel a little lost in the conversation.
It’s all a little absurd. Eleanor doesn’t daydream. She doesn’t pine. Physical attraction is something she either ignores or deals with through a mutually beneficial casual arrangement. But the idea of asking Dani for something like that when they hardly know each other doesn’t feel right, given the circumstances.
Dani leaves around 10 p.m., citing work in the morning, and Eleanor ducks out with her despite the protests of the table that the night isn’t over. While Dani’s friends have been exceedingly nice to her so far, staying after Dani has left isn’t what she came here for.
Her decision is validated when Dani opens the door to let Eleanor through first and Eleanor glances back to see that a few other people have joined the table. The jukebox volume has been cranked up, and Ryan is being hoisted up onto Owen’s shoulders. His head comes worryingly close to intersecting with a ceiling fan.
“Sorry they’re so crazy,” Dani says as Eleanor passes her, letting the door shut behind them. She rubs the back of her neck under her ponytail. She almost looks nervous, which seems completely implausible to Eleanor. “They can be a lot, but they’re good people.”
“I had a great time,” Eleanor assures her. “I’m grateful you’ve all been so kind to me.”
They take simultaneous deep breaths as they meander across the parking lot. Eleanor is used to the smells of the city—car exhaust, hot pavement, a hundred different restaurants all cooking at once. Riverwalk is so different. It’s all running water and cut grass and a hint of distant woodsmoke. Cool and fresh.
Dani catches her eye on the exhale and chuckles.
“I’ve always loved the way the air smells out here,” Dani says, leaning against a nearby truck that Eleanor assumes belongs to her. She can’t see any distinguishing features in the dark, but it looks older than most of the others.
“I’m learning to like it,” Eleanor admits, fiddling with her car keys. “I didn’t realize how suffocating the city was until now.”
“City air blows.”
Eleanor snorts, not quite covering her mouth quickly enough to hide it. Dani grins.
A stretch of silence grows between them. Eleanor knows what she wants to say—she wants to ask to see Dani again. To ask for her number. To ask anything , if it means the conversation doesn’t have to end here. But she doesn’t. She lets the silence grow until Dani pushes herself off the truck, unlocking the driver’s side door manually.
“I better hit the road. We all had a really great time hanging out with you,” Dani finally says, opening her truck door and pulling herself up into the seat. “I hope I’ll see you around?”
“Right, yes.” Eleanor backs out of Dani’s way and prepares to bolt to her car to scream her frustration out in private. “Of course. Have, uh—have a good night.”
Dani’s tires crunch on the gravel as she pulls out onto the street, disappearing in a left turn two blocks down.
For hours afterwards Eleanor curses her own hesitation. She curses it as she drives home, as she washes off the bar smell in the shower, and as she climbs into bed and slips into dreams that leave her sweaty and distracted long into the next day.