Forever This Time (17 page)

Sighing, she tied her hair into a loose knot with a rubber band she found in the desk. It was bleeping hot again, even in the air-conditioned office. The snack cottages had radioed in for extra ice by ten o'clock this morning, and again at three.

There was no way they had enough ice on hand to make it through another day this hot, so she figured they'd better call Ike and order an extra delivery for the morning. Since Ethan was AWOL,
they
meant
she
. He'd thank her.

Her fingers punched the numbers, still knowing them by heart, but when Ike answered, she took a quick breath, suddenly unsure of herself among old friends who had become strangers.

“Ike. Hi, it's Josie. Josie Kendrew.”

“Well, well, well. How's the city girl?” Ike's booming voice hadn't changed in ten years. She could hear his gap-toothed smile right through the wire.

“Good! I'm just helping out here at the park for a little bit, and it looks like we had quite a run on ice today. Wondering if you might be able to send us a load in the morning?”

“Really?”

“Really. We went through tons of it today.”

“Ethan tell you to call?”

Her cheeks burned. With that one simple question, Ike had pointed out just how much of an outsider she was now. She'd ordered ice on a weekly basis way back when, and nobody had ever asked whether she'd gotten permission to do so.

She took a breath, cringing. “Yes,” she lied.

“You have someone who can help me unload it?”

Oh. Right. Ike didn't come with an assistant. Fine. She could help. How hard could it be?

“I'll help, Ike. What time can you be here?”

“Well, garage opens at seven, and I got a big engine rebuild I gotta do in the morning. How's six o'clock sound?”

“
A.M.
?” She winced.

Ike chuckled. “Family businesses got different hours from city-girl businesses, honey.”

“Six it is. I'll bring the coffee.” Josie squeezed her eyes shut as she hung up the desk phone.

“I'll take cream and sugar with mine.” Ethan's voice made her jump.

“I'm not fixing your coffee.” She shuffled papers into alignment, then pushed them to a different spot on the desk. Dammit. She'd been hoping to disappear before he got back to the office. Two could play this game.

“Who were you talking to?” Ethan walked past her and sat down at his desk, leaning back with his hands casually behind his head.

“Ike. He'll be here at six tomorrow morning with a load of ice.”

“Really?” Ethan stayed relaxed, but the corners of his mouth were twitching. “And
you're
going to unload it?”

“Unless you want to.”

“It's all yours.” He shook his head. “And if it wouldn't be too much trouble, I'm down an elf tomorrow. Remember how to walk in curly shoes?”

“You don't need another elf.”
You just want me out of your office.

“Not true.”

“We have plenty of elves. Speaking of which, there's one who has to be pushing a hundred and twenty. Why is Dad still making her do the elf thing?”

“That'd be Ruthie, and your dad's not making her do anything. She loves her job. Says it keeps her young.”

Josie shook her head. “It's too hot out there for someone her age.”

“She'll stop when she's ready. She likes it, and the kids love her.” He leaned back in his chair, arms returning to their spot behind his head. “So how'd it feel to be back in the office today?”

“Cooler than walking around as Sno-Cone Sally.” Josie straightened the papers on Dad's desk, then lined them up again. “It was fine.”
But only because you weren't in here tormenting me with that after-shave … and those eyes.

“Anything else I need to know before you go? Arrange for any other deliveries without my—”

“Permission? I was only trying to help, Ethan.”

“I was going to say
advice
. But that's fine.” He rocked the front legs of his chair back down. “Have fun with that ice delivery in the morning.”

Really? That was it? He was going to just sail in here, put her in her proverbial place, and dismiss her? Like he hadn't kissed her silly twenty-four hours ago?

Yes, she was the one who'd spouted the
No kissing
rule this morning, but dammit, he didn't even look like he cared. He'd avoided her all day, and now he was just itching for her to get out of the office. She gathered her purse, fumbling with the straps as she headed for the door.

Fine.
Tomorrow she'd show him all of the stuff she'd done today. Tomorrow she'd play it as cool as him. Tomorrow she'd try not to give a damn if he disappeared for the whole flipping day.

She squared her shoulders. “Good night, Ethan.”

He gave an absent wave. “Night, Josie.”

Five minutes later, Josie sat in her Jeep, half relieved to be out of Ethan's orbit, half annoyed that she'd felt the need to escape. Her stomach growled and she realized she had forgotten to eat lunch earlier. And maybe breakfast. She needed to find some real food before she headed to the hospital, and Mom's selection of yogurt wasn't going to do the trick.

She plugged the key into the ignition and turned it, but all she heard was a click. Tried again, and
click
.

She dropped her forehead onto the steering wheel, swearing silently. The mechanic at the garage in Boston had warned her five thousand miles ago that her ignition was going, but she so seldom drove the Jeep that she'd kind of forgotten about it.

She turned the key back to the left and counted to twenty, then twisted it again.

Click.

There was only one other vehicle in the parking lot—a dark green truck that had to be Ethan's. Mom was at the hospital, Ben was … who knows where, and Josie felt a growing pain in her stomach that had nothing to do with hunger.

She was alone. Really alone. There was no one she could call for help in this town.

“You forget how to get home?” Ethan's voice made her jump. She turned toward him, hating the way her insides went all quivery at the sound of his voice. His eyes were crinkling in amusement as he gave her a quick once-over. “You okay?”

“My car won't start.”

“Need a jump?”

Good God, why did everything the man said sound like a sexual innuendo?

Did it, actually? Or was she just superimposing innuendo on his perfectly innocent question?

“No. The battery's fine. Something's wrong with the ignition switch. I'll just call Ike.” Right. Ike! He'd help her, wouldn't he?

“He won't answer after five.”

Josie wracked her brain. Ike was the only mechanic she knew. “Is there any
other
garage in town that might be open?”

“Nope. Sorry.”

Josie blew out a frustrated breath. Ten years later, the entire flipping town still shut down at sunset. She was stuck, and Ethan knew it.

And, by all observations, was kind of enjoying it.

“I hate to ask, but is there any chance you could give me a ride out to my parents' house? Or maybe over to the hospital?” She pointed up the mountain. “I probably shouldn't sleep here. The bears are starting to fatten up for winter.”

“It's August.”

“We could have some early planners.” She waved vaguely at the open sides of her Jeep. “And I have no doors.”

Ethan shook his head, looking around the empty parking lot. “Have you eaten today?”

“Not really.”

“Are you hungry?”

Starving
. “I could eat.”

“I was going to stop at Bellinis for a burger. Want to join me?”

Josie's mouth watered at the thought of Mama B's burgers, but this was obviously a pity invite.

“You know, I'm actually fine. I'll call Mom and see if she can come get me.”

Ethan shook his head. “Are you that afraid to see Molly?”

“No. Don't be ridiculous. This isn't about—Molly.”

Right.

“Does she still work with her parents at Bellinis?” She tried to keep the question light and breezy.

“Among … other things, yep. Still here.”

“And you don't think it'd be awkward to show up there tonight? With me?”

“Not for me. I've got the sympathy vote, remember? You're the one who left.”

He was right, of course. As far as anyone in town knew, he was the innocent groom dumped practically at the altar. It was she who'd need to brace for flying tomatoes if she walked into Echo Lake's busiest pub.

“So what'll it be?” He started to turn toward his truck. “Is a Bellini burger worth the pain of being with me for an hour?”

“It's not painful—” She growled internally. It was
totally
painful. Just not in the way he meant. But she was sort of out of options here. It wouldn't be fair to drag Mom away from the hospital.

She grabbed her purse and slid out of the Jeep, following him across the parking lot. “If you're sure…”

He slung his workout bag and sneakers into the truck bed, then opened the passenger door for her. “I'd hate to try to explain a bear-mauling to your father, that's all.”

He closed her door and walked around the front of the truck. When he slid into the driver's seat, Josie had a flashback of the hundreds of times he'd done that when they were dating. Back then, he'd always lean toward her for a kiss before he put the key in the ignition, but tonight he just slung the seat belt across his body as he started the truck.

Did he even remember their old ritual?

Ten minutes later, they were seated on vinyl stools at the pub's counter. She plucked a menu from between the metal napkin holder and the Parmesan cheese shaker. “Please tell me the Bellini Burger hasn't changed.”

“Not much has, Josie.” His words fell like little shards of granite.

She looked toward the booth in the corner where the two of them had shared French fries, milkshakes, and lots of smoldering looks, and felt herself bite her lip. Ethan'd headed right for the counter stools when they came in, but maybe that's just where he liked to sit these days. Maybe he wasn't actually sending her a message with his seating choice.

He definitely was.

She looked down at the menu, and it was as if time had stood still here at Bellinis. Fish-and-chips on Tuesdays, spaghetti specials on Wednesdays, beef stew on Thursdays. Hunting season specials were still listed on the back.

“Are you trying hard not to say something about how the menu hasn't been updated since Noah built the ark?” Ethan leaned subtly her way.

Josie looked at him, feeling her cheeks color, but he kept his stare on the television. “Of course not.”

“Right.”

Before she could come up with a retort, the swinging door to the kitchen blasted open, and Molly came through with three towering plates. Josie had just a couple of seconds to take in her flaming red hair and green eyes before her view was blocked by the pile of plates. Apparently Molly didn't see her, either.

“Hey, Eth. I'll be right with you.” Molly started toward a couple at the other end of the bar, but stutter-stepped when she spotted Josie. “Oh!” Her lips formed a startled circle, then a thin line as she delivered the steaming plates and handed ketchup and silverware over the bar. She stopped three times along the way back toward Josie and Ethan, ostensibly checking on guests, but Josie suspected she was stalling.

Finally she made her way back to their end of the bar. “Ethan. Josie. What can I get you?” Josie saw her step backward as she raised her order pad, and felt guilty for making her feel defensive. Her voice was frosty. Like, penguins-in-Antarctica frosty.

“Hi, Molly.”

Molly sent her eyebrows upward, like she couldn't believe Josie had dared address her in public.

Josie looked back at the menu, trying to make her hands stop shaking. “I'll just have a burger, please. With fries. Thank you. And pickles, if it's okay.” Josie knew her voice sounded stiff and formal, but she couldn't help it. She had no idea how to speak to Molly anymore.

“Same for me, Mols.” Ethan smiled almost apologetically. Josie'd be willing to bet he'd get an earful from Molly once Josie was elsewhere.

“Two burgers! Fries! Side of pickles on number two!” Molly hollered into the kitchen as she pushed through the swinging door, letting it whack the wall as she did so.

Josie propped her arms on the bar, hiding her trembling hands. “Did she say side of hemlock?” She looked around the pub, taking in the same dark-paneled walls, the red vinyl booths in the back, the bulletin board near the door, full of index cards and eight-by-ten handwritten announcements.

One of the papers advertised a benefit dance at the Grange hall this Friday night for Teddy and Grace. As she looked at the crude handwriting, it struck her that most of the people who passed through the front door of Bellinis not only knew Teddy and Grace, but knew why they needed help. Sure wouldn't see
that
in her Boston neighborhood.

She turned back toward Ethan. “So do you still
hate
pickles?”

“Still ask inane questions when you're nervous?”

“I'm not nerv—Fine. I'm nervous. Sue me.”

He smiled, eyes still on the TV. “Yes, I still hate pickles.”

“How about raspberries?”

“Them, too.”

“Math?”

“I'm in charge of your dad's park finances. You'd better hope not.”

“Good point.”

Ethan turned toward her—reluctantly, it seemed. “Do I get to ask some?”

“Sure. Fire away. Just no hard ones.”

“Why counseling?”

“I start with pickles and you start with my career choice?”

He nodded, eyebrows playful. “I don't want to waste my questions.”