4. Chapter 4
Chapter 4
Joe
I stroll down Main Street, marveling at how much it’s changed—and how much it hasn’t. Everything looks the same as it always did. The old, historic buildings with their huge, plate-glass storefronts haven’t changed at all. But some of the signs over the doors have new names.
There’s a used bookstore on the corner of Main and Walnut Streets, where a video store used to be. The sign above the bakery says Gigi’s Sweet Treats now. And, of course, there’s Ella’s Blooms. The sign on her door is flipped to “Closed.”
It’s still early, with few cars on the road, and even fewer pedestrians milling about. Of course, the frigid air temperature could be partly to blame for that. Not everyone is as big a fan of winter as me. And even I’m starting to get cold, even with multiple layers of clothes, a thick, winter coat, and a woolen hat on my head.
I’m debating crossing the street to pop into Gigi’s Sweet Treats to warm up when a woman steps out of the bakery. A woman with soft, pink ringlets that spill out of her winter hat and tumble across her shoulders and down her back.
My pulse quickens, and suddenly, I’ve forgotten all about the cold. Ella Banks is all grown up. Even with her winter coat hiding most of her body, I can see that much. She’s nearly crossed the street and made it to the curb before she sees me standing in front of her shop.
I raise my hand in a wave. “Hi, Ella.”
Her eyes lock onto mine, and her mouth falls open in surprise.
One second, Ella Banks is walking along, clutching her coffee like it holds the meaning of life, and the next, she’s flailing, her arms pinwheeling in a way that shouldn’t be funny—but absolutely is. Her boot catches the curb, and down she goes, disappearing into a snowbank with an unceremonious whump . All that’s visible is her outstretched arm and her intact coffee cup.
I can’t help it. I snort out a laugh, biting my lip to keep from making it worse. Priorities, Banks.
She lets out a muffled groan, and I step forward, looking down at the mess of tangled limbs and snow-covered frustration. “Need some help?”
She twists, blinking up at me, and the look on her face is priceless. Part disbelief, part sheer irritation. Snow clings to her coat, dusts her hair, and I swear there’s even some on her eyelashes. She looks like a cartoon character that’s been left out in the cold too long.
“I’m good,” she grumbles, trying to push herself up. Her foot slips, sinking her deeper, and she lets out a frustrated huff.
“Uh-huh,” I say, crouching down. “Come on, Cinderella. Let’s get you out of there.”
“I don’t need your help,” she insists, flailing around like a turtle on its back.
I don’t suppress my laughter this time. “At least let me hold your coffee. Then you’ll have two hands at your disposal.”
“Touch my coffee and die,” she warns.
“As you wish,” I say, still chuckling. Before she can protest, I wrap my hands around her arms and haul her up like she weighs nothing. Which, compared to the defensive linemen I usually go up against, she really doesn’t. She’s soft and warm under my hands, even through the thick fabric of her coat, and for half a second, I don’t let go. She smells like something floral, something sweet, and suddenly, standing this close, looking down at her flushed cheeks and wide green eyes, I forget what’s so funny. The laughter dies on my lips.
She brushes off snow, scowling up at me. “Enjoying yourself?”
I grin. “A little.”
She mutters something under her breath that I don’t quite catch, but I get the gist. Something about quarterbacks and oversized egos.
I smirk. “For a second there, I thought the Cupid across the street had taken you out with his arrow. You dropped like a sack of potatoes.”
She exhales sharply, looking stricken. “What did you say?”
I frown. “It was just a joke.”
“Right,” she says, glancing across the street at the Cupid. “Um, so, what’s new?”
My lips twitch at the corners. Since high school? Where do I even start? “Not much. You?”
She shrugs. “Same as always.”
“I hear you’re the florist now. That’s new.”
She smiles. “I’ve owned it for seven years.”
Ouch. “I guess my mom is right.”
Her eyebrows knit together. “About what?”
I grin at her. “I need to come home more often.”
She shuffles her feet awkwardly. “Well, I’d better get to work. Good to see you, Joe. Thanks for the, erm—” she gestures toward the snowbank “—assist.”
I shove my hands into my pockets, rocking back on my heels. “Happy to help. But try to be more careful. I may not be around to catch you next time.”
She levels me with a look so dry it could evaporate the snowbank she just fell into. “You didn’t catch me this time.”
“I’m off my game. Haven’t you heard?” I force a laugh, but there’s a raw edge to my voice. Ella’s green eyes lock onto mine, and I get the same feeling I had in high school. That she sees right through my bravado, straight into my soul.
Something flickers in her expression, but she smothers it quickly, lifting her chin. “So, you are human. Good to know.”
I raise an eyebrow. “As opposed to…”
She quirks an eyebrow of her own. “Only robots are perfect, Matthews.”
I tip an imaginary cowboy hat at her. “It’s been a pleasure to see you, Ella.” And without waiting for a reply, I turn away, speedwalking down Main Street and out of reach of her from her penetrating gaze.