18. Ro
Eve and I walked into town, my sneakers scuffing against the pavement. She chattered away at my side about the mechanical bull night coming up at the Crow Bar. Once she’d convinced me to attend, reluctantly, she moved on to musings on the town’s hot new chiropractor and whether she should apply for a second job as a receptionist at Wingspan, the new yoga studio. The idea of my crazy friend huffing and puffing while she aligned her chakras had me grinning. Eve was anything but Zen.
I dipped in and out of her words, more occupied with where Brody was and what he was doing. He’d honored my request and, based on my run-of-the-mill interactions with Coop, hadn’t said a word about the other night. Besides Gran returning from the store with new light bulbs and Brody completely avoiding me, life had returned to the status quo.
“Are you listening to me, Ro?”
I snapped my head toward Eve. She was holding up the latest edition of the Nosey Pecker, reading it out like a hammy actor.
“Sorry. I’m listening.”
“Good. I’ve hardly seen you these last few days.”
I sighed. She wasn’t wrong. I’d kept a low profile while I licked my Brody-shaped wounds.
“So apart from a hilarious review of Verona Morley’s nonsensical poetry and mime evening, the only other tidbit of interest is this little snippet about our mutual friend, the skating love god.”
My stomach lurched. Had Brody made it into the Nosey Pecker again? “Oh?” I asked, my voice wavering just a little.
Eve bounced along next to me. “Yes!” She cleared her throat and read aloud.
“Local hero down on his luck seen out with his glamorous young lady, yet again. Spotted deep in conversation and with more than a few looks exchanged, watch this space for updates. Who knows, love could be in the air.”
Eve turned to me, grinning. “Well, what do you think? Who could it be? I’ve heard no gossip in the diner. Maybe it’s someone from out of town. Apart from Lily Cooley or Wade Biddescombe, with all the pastel knits, I can’t think of anyone glamorous around here.”
A hot burn climbed up my chest. The young lady in the report had to be me. Were we spotted at The Easy Swallow? At Odd Duck’s gym? I’d hardly call my cheerleading outfit or skating gear glamorous, but this was Tuft Swallow, not Paris. As far as I knew, Brody hadn’t hung out with any other women while in town. He’d said few people even knew he was here.
“You know, I think whoever writes this has a bit of a crush on Flock,” Eve continued. “I mean, I can’t blame her.”
“Could be a man.”
She looked at me as if I’d found the cure for wrinkles. “That’s true. I never thought of that. Damn.”
“What?”
“That opens up a whole new group of people who could be responsible. One day, I’ll track the writer down, if only to shake their hand. Thank them for the hours of amusement. Particularly if the stories about your housemate keep coming.”
At another mention of Brody, I tried hard to smile. I really did. But as I trudged along rejector’s remorse had kicked in. I’d made my no-Brody-bed, and now I had to lie in it. Alone and miserable.
I reset my drooping shoulders, and Mrs. Woodcock rounded the corner in a flurry of turquoise nylon. A pair of shiny binoculars hung around her neck, and she clutched a collection of clipboards to her chest. She eyed us through her orange sun visor.
“Rowena. Eve. So lovely to see the youth of our town out and about, taking a little exercise.” As she spoke, Eve rolled her eyes and stuffed her copy of the Nosey Pecker into her bag.
Without waiting for a response, Mrs. Woodcock continued. “It’s a beautiful morning for a stroll. I’m just off to lead a guided bird-spotting session for some out-of-towners. There’s been a sighting of a Lesser-fluffed Kink Tit in the woods. It’s drummed up some interest among the bird community. There are a lot of ornithologists with a particular interest in tits.”
Eve guffawed into the air, but I nudged her in the side, and she turned her laughter into a convincing fake cough. Maybe she’d be competition for me when it was time to cast the nativity play this year.
“Nice,” I said, wishing I was anywhere else.
Mrs. Woodcock touched my arm. “Speaking of nice, it was wonderful to see you and Brody together at the Dirty Hookers meeting the other night. How is his stitching going? Such a polite young man. Never in my life thought he’d want to learn crochet. I hope he comes again.”
Heat rushed to my cheeks. If things had gone my way, he’d have come that night, but Brody had played the gentleman, and then I’d kiboshed the whole notion of us ever having sex. “I’m not sure. He’ll be heading back to Denver soon.”
Mrs. Woodcock’s slightly narrowed eyes ran over my face. “Yes. Yes, that’s true. It’s a shame, though. He lends a certain something to any gathering, eh, ladies?” The smile reappeared on her face. “Well, I best be off. You’re most welcome to join us, Rowena. I believe a few single gentlemen are coming on the tour today.” She winked at me and turned on her silver Nikes.
It took precisely three seconds for Eve to grab my arm, her mouth hanging open. “What the actual hell? Brody went to your crochet club?” The squeal of her voice could rival any Lesser-fluffed Kink Tit that Mrs. Woodcock and her friends might spot.
“Only as a bet. I told him if I had to try out for the derby team, he had to learn to crochet.”
“Are you serious? Flock would never go to a nerdy knitting group for just anyone.”
My chest fizzed. I had to be careful. Eve knew me so well. It would only take one awkward blush for her to guess there was a little more to his sudden interest in crafting than I’d let on.
“We’re old friends, Eve. Brody was probably worried I’d pull a muscle or break a leg on the bike ride home. As he always says, he gets what he wants, and he wants me to get on that roller derby team.”
Eve tilted her head like a curious puppy, eying me steadily. “Pulled muscle, huh? Well, I’d keep myself limber if I were you. Just in case he has any other motive. Anyhoo, I have to get to work. I’ll see you later.” Eve gave me a wiggle of her fingers and sprinted across the road toward the Easy Swallow.
I carried on along the sidewalk, not entirely sure of my destination. Maybe I’d pop into the park for some RR, but as I skirted the town square, I spotted something blue out of the corner of my eye. I squinted into the brightness across the street, and my stomach lurched. The flash of topaz I’d seen was Brody. He wore the T-shirt he’d had on the other night. The one that matched his eyes.
He sat at one of the metal tables outside Wings and Pizza. The skin at the back of my neck prickled. He wasn’t alone. He was with a woman. She had her back to me, but thick red curls cascaded around her shoulders, and she waved one hand gracefully in the air as she spoke.
Brody had on the casual, sexy smile I’d become re-accustomed to, but the curve of his lips didn’t quite meet the edges of his mouth. I stepped backward, disappearing behind one of Tuft Swallow’s old-fashioned streetlights. I couldn’t let Brody see me. He’d think I was stalking him. Keeping tabs on his coffee activities.
I dared to pop my head out for a second, and as I did, the red-haired woman leaned in and touched his arm. My gut twisted like a pretzel. Was my perennial crush enjoying a tender tête-à-tête with a flame-haired temptress? Just two days after reducing me to a quivering mess on my bed? Slinking back behind the lamppost, I fought to bring my breath under control. They were only having coffee, right? I could cope with that.
I peeked out again, and my gut sunk right to the sidewalk. The woman had her hand on Brody’s shoulder, her fingers sliding over his muscles, and he wasn’t fighting her off.
A chill washed over my entire body. Brody was out with another woman just forty-eight hours after hearing me cry out his name
Maybe the Nosey Pecker article wasn’t about me at all. It shouldn’t surprise me. The word “abstinence” wasn’t in his vocabulary. But who was the woman with her manicured fingers on my almost hook-up? She wasn’t local. Her mane of hair was far too memorable. Perhaps Brody had a harem of women who followed him around the country. If only I could get a better view.
A sudden arrival of jostling people in turquoise windbreakers stole my attention. Mrs. Woodcock was leading The Tit Peeper bird-watching group to the park directly opposite the cafe. The melee of bodies would be a perfect hiding spot to observe Brody and his date.
I stepped in line with the bird watchers and donned the turquoise windbreaker and set of binoculars that were offered to me. A volunteer thrust a sheet of paper listing possible bird sightings into my hand. I read it, my mouth gaping. The Glorious Orb-Fiddler? The Full-Breasted Bobby-Dazzler? The Dusty Swamp Tit? Seriously. Who named these birds?
“Goodness, Ro, I thought you weren’t interested in joining the Peepers,” Mrs. Woodcock’s voice grated over me.
Technically, I wasn’t. More like I was interested in peeping on the man sitting over the road. The one chatting cozily with his own turtle dove. “A woman can change her mind.”
Mrs. Woodcock beamed. “Wonderful! Let me see if I can find a suitable young man for you to peep alongside.” She disappeared into the cluster of turquoise bodies, and I picked up the binoculars I’d slung around my neck, training them directly on Brody.
I adjusted the focus, and my view snapped into clarity. Just as Brody touched the pale, smooth hand of the woman with the red hair. The tan of his skin contrasted with the pink of her long nails. I sucked in a breath and moved the binoculars to find his face. His forehead came into view, followed by his gorgeous blue eyes. They crinkled at the corners, just like when he smiled at me.
Somebody jostled me from behind, but I kept my sights straight on Brody. He and his lady-friend stood up. She turned around, and my field of vision filled with her face. All sunshine and peaches and cream. Nausea rolled in my belly. This mystery lady was far more Brody’s type than I could hope to be.
I pulled my binoculars away from my eyes, cursing my plain face and my thicker waist. Compared to mine, this woman’s figure resembled a Barbie doll.
The group of birdwatchers had moved nearer to the park now. Only a few stragglers shielded me, so I stepped behind a large bush on the edge of the grass. Avoiding some particularly vicious twigs, I peeped out from behind the foliage, re-training my goggles on Brody.
He and the woman were just chatting, but when an errant branch scuffed my cheek, I side-stepped further into the street. In a freak of nature or something out of an Indiana Jones movie, the sun aligned perfectly with the lenses of my binoculars. The combination created a bright disc of light that hit Brody straight in his eyes.
His head snapped up, and in a heartbeat, he located the bush next to me. A searing burn rose in my gullet, and I darted back under cover of its leaves.
Amongst the twigs, my heart thundered in my chest. I must’ve dazzled him right in the eyes. Some top spy I’d make! I only hoped he hadn’t seen me. Recognized me. Surely, I looked like at least twenty other people in the street. One body in a large huddle of turquoise and orange.
I closed my eyes and waited for my breath to release from the back of my throat. Maybe if I couldn’t see Brody, he wouldn’t see me either. It was a toddler’s reasoning, but right now, I was happy to subscribe to the theory.
In a cruel twist of fate, the chatter of voices around me lessened, and I opened my eyes. Almost all the Tit Peepers had moved away to the statue of Jerico Tuft. I still stood behind the bush, a bright turquoise beacon amongst the green and brown of downtown Tuft Swallow.
I had to move. Step out into the street. Rejoin the huddle of tit-fans and resume my covert operation. But I risked being spotted out in the open. I had my hair in my signature braids, and nobody else in town wore glittery Converse. No. I’d have to hold my binoculars back up to my face and channel Clark Kent. Nobody ever recognized he was Superman when he wore his glasses.
Three deep breaths later, I swallowed, took a leap of faith, and stepped out onto the sidewalk.
Straight into Brody’s chest.
After a little wobble and a yelp, I pulled my binoculars away and lowered them as if popping out of bushes was the sort of thing I did all the time.
One side of his mouth curved, and his eyes ranged over me and my jacket. “What are you doing?”
A burn crept over my face. “Oh, you know, casually spying on you and your new lover” probably didn’t have the breezy, non-stalker-ish tone I was aiming for.
I swallowed down the lump in my throat. “Nothing!”
Brody’s gaze roamed over the turquoise jacket I wore, resting on the Tit Peepers logo currently emblazoned across my right boob. His eyes narrowed a touch before his mouth cracked into a full grin. “I’ll be honest, I really didn’t have you down as being into tits.”
My blood simmered. “No? I suppose that’s more your thing.”
He pulled air in through his cheeks, holding it there for a second, looking like a hamster that’d overindulged at the buffet table.
“Ouch. I know you like the Tuft Swallow way of life, but do you do this often? Stand around behind bushes, blinding innocent bystanders, I mean?”
It remained to be seen just how innocent Brody’s “by-standing” coffee date had been. Still, I had to stay calm and maintain my innocent facade. If not, he’d know how pitiful and desperate I was to keep tabs on him. “Yes. I join the gang most weeks. It’s fascinating, really. One learns so much with a pair of binoculars in one’s hand.” Had he noticed the edge in my voice?
Brody’s brows rose, but before he could speak, Mrs. Woodcock appeared at his side.
“Brody! How lovely to see you again! Have you come to join us? This is Rowena’s first time, too.”
My soul withered in my chest as a slow, mocking grin grew on Brody’s mouth. He turned his eyes on me.
“Most weeks, huh?” A thick heat crawled up my body. He’d well and truly busted me for lying.
Brody folded his arms across his chest, addressing Mrs. Woodcock. “I thought I might give bird watching a go. Tell me, do I get to wear one of your jackets if I join?”
She giggled like a schoolgirl and clutched her clipboard to her chest. “I’m not sure we’ll have a jacket big enough for your shoulders.”
“For his ego, more like,” I said under my breath.
At my words, Brody’s eyes flared for just a moment. “I’m happy to tag along,” he said, sending his high-beam smile Mrs. Woodcock’s way. “I can hold Ro’s binoculars when she’s not peeping on anyone.”
I tightened my eyes. Despite my interest in Brody’s coffee date, the last thing I wanted was him tagging along and teasing me for lying. Searching for Tufted Tits hadn’t been on my to-do list, and even the prospect of hanging out with one of the NHL’s hottest stars couldn’t persuade me. Quite the opposite.
Mercifully, one of the out-of-town bird watchers called Mrs. Woodcock over. With a cheery wave, she granted me a stay of execution. I turned to face my tormentor, heart in my mouth.
“Please. I don’t think we should spend much time together. Not after… well, the other night.”
Brody sucked on his bottom lip and wedged his hands into his pockets. He looked down at his feet and kicked a pebble into the gutter like a disgruntled schoolboy.
My chest pulled. He looked so dejected, but I had to think of myself. Surely, he could see that giving each other a wide berth made sense. Self-preservation was the order of the day. We should keep our interactions strictly on a coach and player level. If I had to spend a morning wandering around the woods with Brody, even a trail of breadcrumbs couldn’t lead my heart safely back home in one piece.
His brow furrowed. “I’ll be honest, Ro. I don’t know if I can pretend the other night didn’t happen.” His voice was hushed, and he searched my face for a reaction. Reassurance, perhaps.
I clamped my jaw tight, unsure what would come out if I opened my mouth.
After the longest beat, he nodded and shrugged. “But I get it. I’ll stay away.”
Brody turned to leave, and it took all my resolve not to grab his hand and pull him back. I bit my lip as he walked away, all giant shoulders, lean hips, and lemon cologne. I bunched my hands. All I wanted to do was chase after him, wrestle him to the ground, and kiss the life out of him.
“So, exactly what is it we’re looking for?” one of the bird watchers asked me, their voice ringing clearly through the spring air. I didn’t know about the rest of the Tit Peepers, but all I wanted to find was my heart intact by the end of Brody’s stay.