Chapter Six
Six
On Wednesday morning there was no crowd congregated in our living room, so my morning should have been much more productive.
I meant to fire off some job applications while I finished my second cup of coffee, but instead the clang of steel on steel coming from the backyard pulled me to the back deck like a magnet.
Simon and Alex walked through the new choreography while Mitch watched from a nearby lawn chair.
I headed down the steps to join them, but only because I thought Mitch might like a second cup of coffee too.
“He’s really good,” Mitch said, accepting the coffee with a smile of thanks.
I could have gone back into the house, but instead I sank to sit cross-legged on the grass.
The men had practice swords today, a rapier each, and as I watched Simon and Alex circle each other, it was almost like watching mirror images.
Almost. Simon was a little older and Alex was a little taller; Simon had the beard he wore in the summer as a pirate while Alex’s hair was longer, curling against the back of his neck.
I was also pretty sure that Simon would never wear a cutoff T-shirt with Huzzah!
written across it in a small, serif font, exposing his stupidly toned abs.
Alex lunged forward, Simon parrying the movement.
The cropped shirt rode up as Alex moved; I didn’t like the way the dip of his spine was so visible, back muscles flexing as he and Simon worked through the more intricate, dangerous parts of the fight.
The palms of my hands itched, as though they remembered the feel of Alex’s skin.
But it was more a fantasy than an actual memory; I’d had no idea what to do with a guy like Alex back in those days.
No wonder he’d blown me off. No wonder the next year he’d looked through me, like we’d never met.
Like he’d never been the first one to make me feel like more than a girl. Like I’d been someone special.
Tears flooded my eyes, unbidden, and I blinked hard against them. Mitch wasn’t the most observant guy in the world, but even he would notice if I started sniveling next to him. I tilted my head upward, staring at the sky, but the bright sun just made the tears worse.
“Hey.” Mitch nudged me with his elbow. “You’re not supposed to look at the sun.”
“Oh, right.” I closed my eyes against the bright sunlight. “So glad you’re here to remind me.”
“What do you think? Wanna join the cast?” He nodded out toward the men in the yard. “Do a little fighting?”
“God, no.” What was with everyone this season? Trying to slot me into different roles in the cast? I wasn’t part of this Faire anymore. “Just watching,” I said. My eyes were still closed, my face tilted up toward the sun. I sounded unbothered, which was exactly what I was shooting for.
The sun was making me sleepy, despite my two cups of coffee this morning. I was due at Read It his inner chaos goblin was about to come out to play.
Fine with me, as long as I wasn’t involved.
“The big fight needs a lot of work, especially if you’re doing it instead of me.
And between you and me, the choreography can use a refresh.
So anything you can do to make it not suck would be fantastic. ”
And there was the light in Alex’s eyes again—back like it had never left. “I got you,” he said. Those words shivered their way through my bloodstream, and I hoped nobody noticed how I almost physically reacted.
Oh, no. Terrible timing; Alex’s gaze drifted over in my direction, his eyebrows quirking up as our eyes met. “Hey,” he said.
“Hey.” I made my voice casual. I could be saying hey to anyone. Simon. Jeremy. See? We really could be adults here. You could even call this civil. “Nice sword.” I nodded at the rapier next to him.
“Thanks,” he said lightly, a thin smile coming to his face, a ghost of that confident performer. “I get a lot of compliments on it.”
“I bet you do.” I let my own mouth quirk up as his eyes flared; he hadn’t expected me to respond to his innuendo. But I wasn’t a kid anymore, and he didn’t have the hold on me that he used to. Nothing wrong with a little innuendo-based flirting, as long as no emotions were involved.
Mitch and Alex fell into conversation, Mitch giving pointers on choreography he’d been doing for over a decade and Alex spitballing ideas to make it better.
I let my mind drift, their words turning into white noise.
Alex leaned back on his hands as they talked, his top riding up to expose a thin line of hair running down the center of his stomach, to his navel and then further down to the waistband of his shorts.
My mouth went dry, and I lingered on the sight much longer than I should before coming back to myself and blinking away.
Thankfully, Alex didn’t notice my eyes on him. Still talking to Mitch, he shifted positions, one hand going to that dark leather cord around his neck, fiddling with whatever was strung on it. His eyes caught mine and he gave a guilty start. I saw a flash of silver as he tucked it away.
Before I could do something weird like ask him about it, Simon clapped his hands from across the yard again. “We ready?”
Alex unfolded himself from the grass, hopping to his feet like the nimble swordsman he was. Mitch shifted in his chair with a dark expression. His immobility was already frustrating the hell out of him, I could tell. I bit back a sigh. This was going to be a long season.
As the run-through got started, I pushed to my feet. Emily wouldn’t mind if I got to the bookstore a little early. I’d seen enough of Alex for the day.
—
Emily practically sagged against the counter in exaggerated relief when I came through the door. “Oh, thank God you’re here. I don’t know what happened, but I had a million online orders come in last night. Can you help me pull them?”
“That’s what I’m here for, right?” It didn’t take long for us to get a system going, pulling books from the shelves and packing them up.
We took turns helping any customers that came through the door—traffic at small indie bookstores like this was always sporadic and unpredictable.
Before we knew it Stacey arrived, with a takeout bag from the local deli.
My mouth watered; that place made the best sandwiches, and now I was craving one.
To my surprise, she pulled an Italian sub from the bag and handed it over to me. “Extra pepperoncini, right?”
“How did you…” I didn’t know how to end the sentence.
How did she know I was there, working with Emily?
How had she remembered the way I liked my sandwich?
She hadn’t picked up lunch for me in years.
Stacey’s lunchtime visits had been a staple of my summers spent working at the bookstore, but that was back in college.
“Emily texted. She said y’all were slammed this morning.”
“And I wasn’t wrong.” Emily emerged from the back room, tape gun in hand. She glanced up at the clock. “Is it one already? Thanks for the lunch run, Stace. You’re a lifesaver.”
“It’s what I do,” she said cheerfully. “Take care of people. I think being married to a band manager is rubbing off on me. Making me all responsible.”
“You’ve always been a lifesaver as far as I’m concerned.” Emily led us to the coffee counter side of the store, where she ducked behind the counter and came back with three bottles of water.
Stacey looked pleased at the compliment, unpacking the bag from the deli.
It was funny how she didn’t look all that different than she did during Faire weekends.
While Rennies didn’t wear ponytails or little heeled sandals, her pink sundress had a corset structure that clung to her ample curves and a midi skirt that brushed against her lower calves, not unlike the outfits she wore on the weekends.
Now that Stacey was living the ren faire lifestyle all year round, the lines seemed to have blurred for her.