Chapter 47 #2
“I should have just stayed at the airport,” I muttered under my breath as the entourage led me through the parking lot and right onto the sports court. I spotted Levi getting out of his truck and waved him down. “Hey, chief cop guy. I need to report a crime. Someone stole most of my stuff.”
He shot Cam and Hazel a pointed look, then sighed as he fell into step. “We’ll talk later.”
“What exactly do you all know about my clothes?” I demanded a moment before running into Cam’s back as he came to an abrupt stop in front of me. “Ow. What are you made of? Steel?”
Cam sidestepped out of my way to reveal a line of serious-looking Story Lakers all wearing the same T-shirt as the one I’d donned.
Darius and Scooter were at the center. Cam and Hazel joined the rest of the town council on the left. To the right were Levi, Laura, several business owners, and…the only face I really saw.
Gage Bishop.
He looked unfairly good in jeans and a tight-fitting Story Lake Ultimate Bingo shirt.
His mouth was unsmiling. His chiseled jaw showed more than a day’s growth of stubble.
His hair was messier than usual, and he had a splatter of paint on his forearm and another on his jeans.
He’d probably come straight here from some jobsite.
Or maybe he’d been helping his parents on the farm.
Gage’s life hadn’t stopped just because I’d left town.
Despite his constant volley of emails, texts, and pictures, I assumed the past week had been business as usual for him.
Then I saw his gaze. That fierce green fire was fastened on me. And there was nothing disinterested about it.
I ached just looking at him. How could I have let myself fall so hard for him? How could I forget all the wonderful moments we’d shared? How could I ever look at him and not want him?
Buttercup sighed and leaned against my leg, offering canine comfort.
Oh no. My vision was tunneling. No, wait, Gage was getting closer. He was stalking toward me, closing the distance. I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think.
He didn’t stop. He pushed one hand into my hair to cup the back of my neck and used the other hand to haul me against his body. “I love you,” he said before kissing the crap out of me.
My brain scrambled faster than a dozen eggs in a frying pan. He loved me? Gage Bishop loved me?
His mouth was hot, hard, and so excruciatingly familiar against mine. I’d missed this, missed him.
“Aww!” Hazel crooned.
“That wasn’t the plan,” Cam said from somewhere that sounded far, far away.
Gage drew back, still staring at me. “Sorry. Got carried away,” he said gruffly.
And then he was sliding his hands down my arms and releasing me before taking a step back. My knees nearly buckled.
“She’s gonna start catching flies with that open mouth,” Gator said from the crowd.
I managed to snap my jaw shut and bring myself back to reality. I was standing center court, surrounded by most of Story Lake. Darius and the Warblers strutted up to me. Scooter made a mouth trumpet noise right in my face, breaking the spell of Gage’s proclamation.
Darius nodded solemnly at him. Scooter bowed and then returned to the ranks of the Warblers.
Darius unrolled an actual scroll and cleared his throat. “On this day,” he bellowed, “Story Lake is proud to bestow one of our highest honors on one of our own citizens.”
Was it me? Was I the citizen? Was the highest honor getting kissed by Gage? Because it was a damn good prize. Oh crap. What if this was some weird award ceremony for some other weirdo and I just assumed it was about me because of the fake emergency poop and group march to the lake?
“Zoey Moody.”
Thank God.
“For your services to Story Lake in creating the wildly successful Reader Weekend, increasing our tourism, making our small businesses more profitable, and most importantly ruining Dominion’s stupidly dangerous plans, do you accept this honor?”
“Uh, what honor exactly?” I asked, sending a nervous glance in Gage’s direction. The man still looked like he wanted to ravage me. And I was open to the idea.
Darius put down the scroll and picked up an oversize bingo card. “The honor of the middle square.”
“Oooh!” crooned the crowd with awe as the mayor pointed to the free square. Prior to today, the free space had been home to a generic yellow star. Now in its place was a disco ball and several tiny words jammed together that I couldn’t quite make out.
“The free square has officially been renamed the…” Darius gestured like an orchestra leader for the crowd to join him.
“Zoey Moody mumble mumble mumble mumble,” everyone said.
I sidled a step closer to Darius. “The, uh, Zoey Moody what?”
He handed me the card and a magnifying glass. “The Zoey Moody Excellence in Public Service Free Space,” he announced grandly.
“Wow. That’s actually really nice,” I said, studying the card.
“We’ll probably have to shorten it to Zoey Moody XPSFS,” he pronounced. “But it stands to remind players that, like the free space, we all benefit from public service.”
“Of course. Makes sense,” I agreed solemnly as if I was even remotely following the logic.
Emilie Rump stepped forward. “As the official ultimate bingo commissioner, I hereby declare that you may now choose a rhyme or action players will perform when utilizing the Zoey Moody XPSFS.”
“Oh, uh, right now?” I asked.
She nodded regally.
Man, these folks really took their bingo seriously. Okay, I was absolutely not going to say “emergency poop” right now. No matter how much my impulsive self wanted to. Emergency poop would not be my legacy.
“Okay, a rhyme or an action. A rhyme or an action…” I tapped my chin and started to pace. The audience followed suit. “No, wait! I’m thinking, not choreographing.”
“No, wait! I’m thinking, not choreographing,” they repeated.
“Fuck.”
“Fuck!”
I looked to Gage. Help? I mouthed.
He closed the distance between us. Every footstep that brought him closer made my heart hammer harder.
“What do you need?” he asked, his voice a rough whisper that carried memories of all those nights together.
“I don’t know how to come up with something on the spot that perfectly represents me. I’m a mess.”
“You’re not a mess, Zoey. You’re amazing.”
“Stop kissing my face and ass, and start coming up with solutions.”
“Okay,” he said with an affectionate smile.
“This honor is giving me anxiety. What’s my essence? And how do I apply that to bingo?”
“You’re really hot,” Harry shouted out.
Laura rolled her eyes, then gave her son a good-natured punch to the back of the knee.
“You’re a hard worker,” Chevy said.
“You always bus your own table on the deck at the Fish Hook,” one of the servers called out.
“You didn’t laugh when I farted during Lakercise,” George yelled from his scooter.
“You kicked Dominion’s ass,” Kitty Suarez bellowed. That one earned a resounding cheer from the crowd.
“You’re less annoying than I thought you’d be,” Opal announced. “And you took an interest in a grumpy old lady and reminded her what it’s like to maybe wanna stick around.”
“You make everything sparkle,” Gage said.
“Stop it,” I whispered.
“It’s true,” Hazel said. “You do.”
“Sparkle works,” Laura agreed, wiggling her fingers in the air.
Darius looked relieved. “Thank goodness. That’s a lot more family friendly than the old O69 call.”
This shouldn’t be so heartwarming. I shouldn’t be getting emotional. But this town. This lovely, loony little town had made a space for me. Literally.
My eyes were damp. Someone was definitely chopping a large quantity of onions here in the park. “I don’t know what to say besides thank you,” I squeaked.
“Scooter, please present the ceremonial tissues,” Darius requested.
“So there you have it,” I said, handing the paper over to Opal.
With the ultimate bingo ceremony officially over, we were sitting on a park bench at the lake’s edge as the sun dipped low in the sky.
Buttercup rested her head on her paws and stared out over the water like she was pondering life.
“A seven-figure advance and your dream editor,” I said with satisfaction.
“For my books,” she said, squinting down at the number I’d written out for her. A life-changing number.
“For your books,” I agreed.
“You’re shitting me.”
“I can assure you there has been no shitting today.”
“Sounds like someone needs more fiber in their diet.”
“Come on. Go back to admiring your shiny offer, and then tell me what a good job I did,” I said, tapping the paper.
She peered at me through the tinted lenses of her glasses. “I didn’t think I’d be taken seriously. I didn’t think anyone would make room for me, let alone be stupid enough to offer me this kind of money.”
“Yeah, well, sometimes the good guys win. And you, Opal, are a good guy. A grumpy one, but a deeply talented, grumpy good guy. So yay you! Tell me you have a bottle of champagne in your apartment.”
“I got one on me,” she said and pulled a mini split of sparkling wine out of her tote bag.
Gage was standing a few feet away on the dock, admiring the setting sun with his sister and Val while all five kids entertained each other.
“So what do I do?” she asked, unscrewing the top and taking a swig.
“Well, we’ll chug warm purse champagne right out of the bottle, and then you’ll decide if you’re taking the deal.”
“Of course I’m taking the damn deal. Alice didn’t marry a fool,” Opal announced.
I collapsed back against the bench. “Thank God. Part of me thought you were going to tell me to fuck off out of stubbornness, and I already picked out my celebration shoes.”
“I’m only doing it to keep you from bankruptcy,” she said, passing me the bottle.
“Liar,” I said, taking a sip. “Now I want you to bask in the sparkly glory that you, Opal Mallory, a seventy-three-year-old woman, were wooed at auction by three of the top publishers in the industry. Each one salivating at the thought of getting their hands on the books you wrote.”
“You’re a lot less annoying when you bring me buckets of money.”
I handed the bottle back to her with a wink. “I was just thinking the same about you.”
That earned me a small smile. “You’re a hell of a girl, Zoey.”
“Stick with me, kid, and I’ll make the rest of your seventies and your eighties memorable as hell.”
“Who’s gonna make yours memorable?” Opal asked, looking pointedly in Gage’s direction.
“Me,” I said firmly.
“Folks sure seem to love you around here,” Opal continued. “Him included.”
“Maybe,” I hedged, taking the bottle back.
“Mistakes were made, kid. But you know what? As long as you learn from them and do better, you don’t have to be defined by them.”
“Listen, Opal. I haven’t slept more than five hours a night in the past week.
I haven’t showered in two…” I paused and sniffed my armpit.
“Make that three days. I’m tired and hungry, and someone stole all my clothes.
I’m in no frame of mind to make a life-altering decision that includes the hot guy who broke my heart. ”
“Well, you better get yourself into the right frame of mind,” she said, nudging me.
I looked up to find Gage approaching. Buttercup perked up, tail thumping against my leg. I couldn’t blame her. My heart did its own thumping as he got closer. So serious. So attentive.
He loved me.
I couldn’t stop thinking about his words.
He stopped in front of us, and Buttercup scrambled to her feet. I had to stop myself from doing the same. “Opal,” Gage said by way of greeting as he bent to offer my delirious dog affection. I was not jealous. Nope. Definitely not.
“Don’t fuck it up,” Opal told him, getting up.
“I’ll do my best,” he promised.
“Where are you going?” I asked her as she tucked the paper with the offer into her tote bag and gripped her cane.
“I’ve got shit to do. Bigger champagne bottles to open. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Her gaze skated to Gage. “But not too early,” she added.
The implication was clear as she walked away. Well, I’d show her. Zoey Moody didn’t make the same mistake twice. I was a strong, independent woman with a modicum of self-esteem. I wasn’t about to fall under the green-eyed, hard-mouthed spell of Gage Bishop so easily again.
“You ready for that dinner?” Gage asked me.
“Sure.”
Damn it, me.