Between Us Girls (25 page)

The sign painted on the glass door read simply
Seaside Village Gym
with the hours printed underneath. She pulled the door open, a small bell jingled, and she stepped into an unpleasant memory: PE class and the locker room. Her nose twitched involuntarily.

A buff young woman in black spandex smiled from behind a counter. “May I help you?”

“Hi. I'm looking for Keagan.”

“Who isn't?” She laughed. “That man has perfected the disappearing act. May I help you?”

As the woman eyed her, Jasmyn sank into another memory, one of feeling intensely uncoordinated, not good enough, and embarrassed at being the last in her class to need to wear a bra.

Her heart started up its Sousa rhythm again and it wasn't from the brisk walk. “No thanks. We're, uh, neighbors, and I just wanted, uh, to, uh— He's not here then?”

“Nope.”

“Okay, thanks.” She pushed open the door and its bell jingled again as it swished shut behind her.

What in the world was she doing? Keagan was totally out of her league.

She stopped in her tracks.
Seriously?

Well, in all honesty, yes,
seriously
.

She was really and truly concerned about her and Keagan's leagues.

Uh-oh.

Jasmyn looked up at the gray sky and shook her head. She was foolish. A nobody from Valley Oaks and a Southern California hotshot?
No way.

She hurried along, weaving in and out of other people on the sidewalk. She neared the library, a large white stucco building with a spacious courtyard dotted with benches. Not exactly Midwest architecture. Another thing that would stand out.

Okay, Seaside Village could not be dropped into Valley Oaks unnoticed.

She had been silly about a lot of things. At least some good news came out of it. If she were attracted to Keagan, it meant that what's-his-name was history. Actually, she could probably even say the name of what's-his-name out loud and not feel nauseous.

“Nick Bloome.”

She pressed her stomach. So far, so good.

Nick had been everything she could have wanted in a husband, but after eighteen months of lovey-dovey he declared she was not what he wanted in a wife. And oh, by the way, he had found someone who was. And, oh yeah, she was pregnant with his baby.

History.

Which she was not about to repeat in any way, shape, or form by paying attention to that annoying feather that fluttered in her chest whenever she saw Keagan.
Sean
Keagan. She had seen his first name in Liv's files.

Not paying the feather any attention was easier said than done because there he sat on one of those benches outside the library, his nose in a book, sunglasses atop his head.

And the feather tickled away. She swallowed and kept walking. There were several people between them, standing, talking, and walking. She would pass by and he wouldn't even notice—

He looked up.

Maybe he simply unnerved her. That sixth sense or whatever it was that told him to look up or show up at fluky moments was just plain weird. Not to mention the gaze that made her wonder if food was stuck in her teeth. Then there was the kung fu aspect. She swore the air shimmered with energy that said
You don't want to mess with me
.

Or…it shimmered with the unfolding of the safety net he pulled out of the blue for damsels in distress. Like now.

And she stood twenty feet away.

It was a huge net.

He gestured at the empty seat beside him. An invitation.

She accepted.

He moved to one side of the bench. “Have a seat.”

She sat. “Hi.” On a typical day, she would have asked about the book he was reading. Typical got lost two blocks back.

“What's up?”

“Um, nothing really.” She hesitated. Liv would say their meeting was
not a coincidence. Hadn't Jasmyn decided to talk to him? “But I was wondering…um, I mean, do you mind…”

“I don't mind.” He shut the book. “What do you need?”

“A listener?”

“Is that a question?”

“No.” She squared her shoulders. “I need someone to listen, and not like Liv or Quinn or Sam would. They're too, I don't know, emotionally involved.”

“You think I fit the bill.” A statement, a half smile. Or more like a quarter of a smile.

She gave him her own quarter of a smile. He totally fit the bill of not emotionally involved. “The thing is, I just found out my boss is retiring. He'll either sell the restaurant or close it down.” The words began to flow more easily. “Which means I'm going home to major work changes, maybe even to no job within a couple months. I'm going home to no place to live. I mean, the ugly studio apartment doesn't count. Not really. Not that I can't find a better place. But life feels so chaotic, so up in the air.”

“Probably because it is.”

She blew out a breath. “I'm getting tired of up in the air.”

“It makes walking with two feet on the ground difficult.”

“What do I do about it?”

“What can you do?”

“I don't have a clue.”

“Let me ask this. What is there to do besides go back and do whatever it is you have to do to get on with life there?”

“Not go back?” She met his eyes and something passed between them. She couldn't say what it was, but it seemed real. And a little bit awkward.

“Is that a question?”

“No. Sorry. I'm a little iffy today.”

“You're vulnerable.”

“That too. Anyway,
not
going back to Valley Oaks isn't really an option. I don't have a job here. My home is there. I mean, my roots are there. People don't uproot themselves to turn a vacation spot into their permanent place of residence.”

“Is that a statistic you read somewhere?”

“No. It's just not done.”

“Think outside the box. What else don't people do?”

She thought of Danno's ridiculous proposal. “People like me don't buy restaurants, even though my boss offered to sell it to me and make it work somehow financially.”

Keagan's eyebrows went up and right back down. “That is outside the box. Why did he offer to do that?”

“He thinks I know the business and could do it. I think he's an old softy who hopes his dream doesn't die when he retires to Florida, and I've been there the longest.”

“Can you imagine yourself doing it? What would it be like?”

“A huge responsibility. Danno taught me everything he knows. He's like Liv that way. But I couldn't do it alone. Quinn's the best waitress and my best friend since kindergarten. I'd want her for a partner. We would need a chef because neither one of us can cook. The place needs redecorating. I'd fire at least two of the wait staff and hire teenagers and teach them to do it right.”

“You've thought about this.”

“Only this very minute.”

“What's the downside?”

“Quinn is a flake—lovable but a flake nonetheless—and folks might boycott the place because they're still mad that I sold my farm to a developer and then I'd lose the money I made from that deal.”

“The upside?”

She shrugged. “I'd have a job?”

Keagan did not agree or disagree. And as usual, there were no clues in his body language as to what went on inside of him.

Kind of like a wall, which made him a perfect sounding board.

“You want to factor in the rest of your life,” he said. “Whether or not Valley Oaks offers the real stuff you need, like family, friends, community, significant other.”

Jasmyn felt a flush of embarrassment. Why did it cut so deeply all of a sudden? She had easily shared hurtful things with Sam and Liv, admitting that she'd never felt part of the Valley Oaks community, that there was no special guy, that her dad had never been in her life.

“There's no family. None. Not much in the way of community outside of the restaurant, and there is definitely no significant other since—oh, never mind. There just really isn't anyone except Quinn. Sad, huh?”

“It's life. But I am surprised the CIA hasn't contacted you yet.”

She smiled.

“Do you want your listener to render an opinion?”

She'd prefer a shoulder to cry on. “Sure.”

He studied her face for a long moment, as if wondering whether or not to believe she wanted to hear his opinion. “Conventional wisdom says not to make a major change within the first year after a traumatic incident.”

Tears stung. “But,” she whispered, “I need a home and job security like yesterday.”

He nodded. “Throws a monkey wrench into the mix, doesn't it? There's always the advice to take two aspirin and drink plenty of liquids.”

She frowned.

“What? You wanted real answers?”

“Maybe.”

“Sleep on it, Jasmyn. Things will look better tomorrow.”

“It's not even noon.”

“Another monkey wrench.” He smiled.

He smiled a full-on smile.

That smile wrapped around Jasmyn like strong arms lifting her up off of a rock-strewn road and setting her on a horse. A white horse. A steed. She leaned back against a solid wall of armor.

Uh-oh.

Uh-oh
indeed.

Forty-One

Late Friday afternoon, Keagan knocked on the door of Cottage Eleven, a deep violet-blue windbreaker over his arm, a youth size. They didn't carry women's petite sizes at the gym. They did carry the blue that matched her eyes.

He was thinking way too much about Jasmyn Albright's size and eye color. And poking his nose into her business way too much. A significant other? Had he honestly said those words?

Life had been less complicated when he only noticed her bubbly personality and how much she helped Liv.

The door opened and there she was, the color of her eyes intensified by tears. She was having a rough day.

He steeled himself. That was how one survived the bad guys as well as good women who might exit the scene with his heart in their back pocket.

He cleared his throat. “Need a listener?”

She smiled and shook her head as she wiped her nose with a tissue. “I just talked with Quinn. We're both a mess over Danno retiring.”

He nodded. “I come bearing gifts.” He held out the jacket.

“Déjà vu. We've done this jacket thing before. There was a motorcycle involved.”

The day at the airport, the day of Liv's heart attack. A long time ago, it seemed. An eternity. Before he had noticed Jasmyn Albright.

Her dimples went deep. Her face glowed as if the indentations somehow flipped a light switch. She said, “Do I get to keep this one?”

“If it fits.”

“And if I don't have to ride a motorcycle.” She took the coat and slipped her arms into it.

“We get them for the gym. You looked cold earlier today. I thought maybe you could use a warmer jacket.”

“Ohhh, nice fleecy lining.” She zipped it and flipped up the hood. “It has a hood!”

“And a logo.”

She glanced down at the small, white embroidered letters,
Seaside Village Gym
, and tied the hood, hiding most of her face. “It's a perfect fit. I'm as snug as a bug in a rug. Can I pay for it?”

He would give her a dozen if it meant seeing those dimples twelve times over. “No. Just wear it everywhere. Free advertising.”

“Okay.” She looked at him. “Wow. Thank you, Keagan. I really needed this. Not just the jacket but…I don't know.”

“A distraction from the mess?”

“Yeah.”

“Did you and Quinn decide what to do?”

“No. We just had a good cry.”

“That helps.” He noticed her tears were gone.

He was noticing too much. When had his reaction to her changed from
she's a sweet kid
? When had he realized she was older than she appeared, that she was near his own age, attractive, competent, and yet full of an innocent, childlike wonder?

He offered some inane parting words and slipped away.

Near his front door, he muttered to a potted bush, “Ten more days and she's out of here. And now I'm talking to plants.”

Forty-Two

Still wrapped in the jacket Keagan had just given her, Jasmyn sat down in the rocker and set it in motion. Back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth.

It was a nervous reaction, of course. The two weeks of delightful bliss were over. Yes, they were definitely over.