My Fake Husband by Black, L. (lightest ebook reader .TXT) 📗

“Our lineup’s looking strong though, going into the season.”

“When are you thinking to do tryouts?”

“Couple weeks maybe, depends on the weather. If it stays clear,” Brody said.

“In a few years we’ll be coaching your kid,” I said, taking a sip of coffee.

“It’s crazy,” he said, but he was smiling. “So when you gonna settle down? Give our baby some cousins?”

I shrugged, “I guess I just never found the right girl.”

“You’ve sure tried a lot of them on to see if they’re the right one,” he chuckled.

“I’m glad for you guys, really,” I said, “but it’s not for everyone.”

“You don’t want a family?”

“Sure I do. But with the right person. Not just whoever’s nearby,” I said.

Then I lost my train of thought. Trixie walked into the diner and went right to the register. Rachel waited on her, scooped a hot Danish into a paper sack and handed it to her. My mouth watered, but not from the sight of fresh pastries.

She was petite but curvy, her dark hair rippling glossy over her shoulders and halfway down her back. She and Rachel chatted. Something made her laugh, and even in the crowd, I could pick out her giggle. She had a great laugh, and I felt a rush of just wanting to be close to her. She took her coffee, her bag, and left. My eyes followed her all the way to the door. She never looked up, never waved or even saw me. Not that it mattered. We didn’t exactly travel in the same circles even though our moms were very close. I saw her a lot growing up, but years had gone by as we’d hit adulthood. Until I went in the flower shop the other day, I had only seen her in passing. Like this. I always saw her, always took notice.

Startled, I looked at Brody, who had just flung a sugar packet at me.

“What?” I said.

“You were staring. No one over the age of thirteen should be that obvious,” he laughed.

“Staring? I was watching to see if Rachel brought out the rest of the Danishes. Obviously.”

“Bullshit. You should ask her out already. You’ve only been mooning over her for years.”

“I am a firefighter. I do not moon,” I said hotly.

“You were staring at her ass like it was—”

“Shut up,” I said.

“Why don’t you ask her out? She’d say yes. You’re not the only one who stares. I’ve seen her watching you, too.”

“Bro, my mom and her mom go way back. So if I want my mom all up in my business, that’s one sure way to get her attention. If I ever considered asking Trixie out, my mom would be all over it. Trust me, it’s better left alone.”

“If you say so. But it doesn’t look like you’re leaving well enough alone. I saw where the flowers came from, the ones Laura liked so much.”

“What? Flowers come from flower shops,” I said.

“Right,” he said, but his look said ‘bullshit.’

The fact was, I liked her. I always had. I wasn’t pining away or anything, but she was beautiful and voluptuous, and I’d imagined having her in my arms more than once over the years. Still, I was reluctant to get involved with her. If we did get together, our families would expect us to have a serious relationship. Then if it didn’t work out, both families would be uncomfortable around each other. I could conceivably ruin my mom’s lifelong friendship with Trixie’s mother. They’d take sides, and it would turn out messy and unpleasant. So I could keep my recurring fantasies about Trixie to myself and avoid complications.

3 Trixie

When I unlocked the back door to the shop, dragging in early and half asleep to get a start on the arrangements for Allie Greer’s bridal shower, I heard a slosh. As I pushed the door open, water slid out onto my shoes. I flipped on the light to see my entire shop and workroom standing in three inches of water.

“Shit,” I said flatly. I felt—angry, defeated, miserable. I dialed Nicole’s number.

“Can I borrow your wet vac?”

“Sure, what for?”

“The three inches or so of water flooding my shop right now,” I said, my voice shaky.

“It’s just a small wet vac. Do we need to rent one?”

“I’ll head down to the hardware store and see what they’ve got,” I said, “Thanks.”

I waded through the mess, stopped to glare at my just-paid-off walk-in cooler that had shorted out and died as a result of the flooding, and found the water shutoff in the back. I cranked it and then leaned my forehead against the pipe. I slogged back through to the door, climbed in my car, legs and feet soaking wet, and drove to the hardware store and rented the two biggest shop vacs they had. I barely wedged them into my little car and drove back to the shop. By then Nicole and Michelle were waiting outside, both gamely carrying a bucket, towels, and Nicole’s tiny wet vac. I wrestled the two vacuums to the door and set them down. Then I threw my arms around my best friends.

“I love you guys,” I said, trying not to sniffle. “I’m sorry this is such a mess. I don’t know what—”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re lucky to have us,” Nicole said, hugging me back. “Let’s get in there and get you cleaned up.”

“Exactly,” Michelle added. “We got this. Armed with towels and a giant rental vacuum, Let’s do this.”

I managed a wavering smile because I love my friends and they were trying so hard to be funny and sweet about this mess.

We got to work, and I kept dialing Jimmy the useless bastard. His outgoing voicemail message kept announcing to me that he was out of town and would return calls beginning the twentieth—about ten days from now. While flowers were decaying to wilted slime in my destroyed cooler. I heaved the clammy wet vac to the door and dumped the reservoir full of nasty water outside. I was