THE GIRL IN THE PINK BIKINI

BOOK 1

CHAPTER 1

I hate swim parties. Hate with a capital “h”. Because every time I’m invited I know my mom will make me wear that florescent orange thing that all but covers my eyes. My friends either laugh at me or give me pity, and I want neither one. So when Megan Dairy invited me to her beach party I determined this year I’d be in style. Some way. Somehow.

But I’d have to be stealthy to pull it off, and that meant telling a little white lie. I didn’t condone lying, frowned on it, in fact. But in the face of becoming the world’s biggest fool, a lie seemed the best way to go. Therefore, I ignored the voice in my head saying this was wrong and set out to acquire the perfect bikini.

It had to be a bikini because that’s what the other girls would wear, though the speech I’d heard my entire life echoed in my head along with the Scripture that accompanied it. The one about women and modest apparel. But I didn’t get that. How could what’s immodest for me not be immodest for Megan? Her mom didn’t care. Her mom bought her a new one every year and they were always little and tight and revealing. I simply wanted something in two pieces that’d show off my belly button. And maybe a little cleavage. Just enough to make Roger Keen look my way.

Roger Keen. Tall, dark, and handsome, he was everything I wanted in a guy. Of course, currently, he didn’t pay me any mind, yet I was going to change that. Having the right bikini was the key.

However, this presented an additional problem. To buy the right bikini I needed cash, and the right way to come up with that was not by asking my mom for it because that would add stealing on top of lying. At least, it felt like stealing, since I’d be buying something she didn’t want me to have, and no way was I doing that. The flames of hell would be burning the soles of my feet afterward.

Which meant I’d have to earn it. Currently, I didn’t have a job. I’d lazed about since graduation mostly warming the couch and the keys of my computer, much to my parents chagrin, and developed every excuse in the book for my unemployment. Too early. Too hard. Too far. No transportation. I heard they don’t pay much. I can’t possibly do that. All legitimate reasons that I must lay aside for the sake of the right swimsuit.

It’d be worth it. I was sure. So I set out one afternoon determined to find employment, something light and easy, something I could quit once I’d made my first paycheck, and wandered in and out of every clothing store on the strip until I ended up in front of the shop at the end. The hardware store.

Hardware. I stood there contemplating the fact I was a girl and this was a man’s world, the fact I didn’t fit in, then sucked in my gut and opened the door. How hard could it be to sell nuts and bolts? I wasn’t dumb; what I didn’t know I could learn. Plus, there was a help wanted sign on the window glass. This was a positive thing offering more hope than I’d gotten at the other twelve places.

I wound my way down the narrow, disorganized aisles to a glass counter in the back and rang a small hand bell beside the cash register. Two well-used swinging doors flapped open and a man in his sixties appeared.

“May I help you?”

He had a kind face like a grandpa, lined and wrinkled with a rather pointy nose and piercing gray eyes.

“I saw your sign about the job,” I said

He seemed to contemplate that, looking me over. “Any experience?”

Well, now, the answer was no. But I’d already discovered saying no got me no-where.

“Sure,” I said. “But it depends on what experiences you’re talking about.”

This made him chuckle. He shook his head and wiped a knuckle down his nose. “Spunk. I like that,” he said. “You any good at organizing?”

“I’m female ain’t I?”

Again, he laughed.

“Plus,” I added. “I’ll work for peanuts.”

This was apparently the right thing to say because he extended his hand. “What’s your name, little girl?”

“Coralee,” I replied. “Coralee Pirtle.”

“Pirtle the Turtle?” came a voice from the back.

Oh, I saw red. I knew that voice, had heard it since second grade, the first class we’d had together, and no way was he working here, too. But no sooner had I thought that then the same two doors swung wide, and there he stood.

I narrowed my gaze. “Roman Avery.”

He grinned and strode over to me. “Pirtle the Turtle. I thought you were ...”

Hauling back my fist, I let it fly, the inner part of me glorying in the smack of my knuckles against his cheek, the slight crunch of his nose, and the fountain of blood that sprayed across the counter all over my shirt.

Roman bowed over, clutching his face, a string of curse words flying, and the old man behind the counter pinched hold of his ear and twisted it into a coil. This sent Roman squealing like a pig. “Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. I’m sorry, Grandpa. I didn’t mean it, but she punched me. Honest, it was just a gut reaction.”

Grandpa? I stared at him, my eyes wide and my fingers smarting from my swing, and watched my career in hardware go up in smoke. I’d blown it this time and blown it big. Never mind, I was happy to have punched Roman Avery. I’d punched Roman Avery in front of his grandpa.

I gulped and wiped my now sweaty palm on my black slacks. “I guess I should go,” I said. Go quick and never come back in here before I get sued or arrested or something.

Grandpa Avery, his fingers still clutching Roman’s ear, turned his gaze my way. “Are you kidding?” he asked. “After that, you’re hired. Welcome to the family, Coralee.”

“I think you broke my nose.” Roman held the ice-filled cloth to the bridge of his injured appendage and eyed the space between him and Coralee. If she made one more step his direction, he was out of there.

“I’m sorry, but you called me that ... that ... name.” She stood before him, one hand curled upward on the counter.

“It was just a jo ... ow ...” He winced and pulled away from her grasp. “Don’t touch me.”

She approached him anyway. “I want to see if it’s swollen.”

“Of course it’s swollen, you broke it. Gah, you broke my freakin’ nose. I can’t believe it.”

“Stop whining,” she said, throwing her weight on one hip. “You’re such a baby when you whine.”

“I’m allowed to whine when you break my nose.”

This comment made her giggle, and the sound of it brought out his own laughter. Yet laughing too hard hurt, and it wasn’t long before he was back to whining.

“Where’ve you been anyway?” he asked. “A boxing match?”

She rolled her eyes and pursed her lips. “Psh. You haven’t heard? I’m trying to see how long a person can sit in one place.”

“Doing what? Arm exercises?”

She sighed. “No. How come I didn’t know your grandpa owned this place?”

“You never asked.”

“Cute. I had no reason to ask. It’s not like we were friends.”

“Or are friends,” he added. He lowered the ice from his nose at last and sat it on the counter.

She gave a hiss. “Oh, wow, I really broke it. It’s kinda ... crooked.”

“Great. Ow.” Talking hurt. Breathing hurt. Looking at her hurt. Man, she was fine, and strong as an ox, and outspoken, and not about to give him the time of day. And now his nose was warped and she’d be working here. Here, where he’d have to look at her each day and wish he could put his lips on hers.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” she asked.

He looked away. “I’m not looking at you like anything except a girl with a mean right cross.”

“Well, I apologize, like I said. You promise not to call me that, and I’ll not do it again.”

“Believe me,” he said. “I’m not calling you anything.” He turned his back on her and wandered back through the folding doors. Unfortunately, she followed. “What?” he asked, a few steps in.

“Your grandpa said for you to show me what to do.”

“Now?”

She rested one hand on her hip. “Why not now? I need money, and I’m ready to work.”

Money? What did she need money for? Then again, what did he know about her? They’d attended school together, graduating last spring and going their separate ways. He’d taken a handful of classes at the local community college, and she’d, according to her, done nothing.

They hadn’t particularly been friends, more like kids in the same classes on occasion. It wasn’t until their senior year that he’d noticed her as an appealing female. But as far as she was concerned, he’d been invisible, so rather than have his hopes dashed, he’d given up and watched her walk away.

“What do you want money for?” he asked. If she was unemployed as she’d indicated, then she obviously hadn’t cared about being broke ’til now.

“That’s personal,” she said. “Let’s just say I need it fairly quick, and it’s really important so here I am.”

He stared at her for a minute then shrugged. “Fine. Take that box over there to aisle three and hang up what’s in it up.”

“Sure thing, boss,” she said. Prancing across the space, she bent over, thrusting her butt outward and took hold of the box.

He swallowed. This would be a long, long summer with sightings like that every day. Then again, looking at that might make things interesting – so long as she kept her hands to herself.

She straightened, and he glanced away. Paperwork. He’d do much better right now to concentrate on ordering inventory than staring at what was a very attractive backside.

I announced my employment at the dinner table, causing my older brother, Spencer, to spit a mouthful of peas and my dad to choke on his tea. With both of them coughing, I was left with only my mother to listen to.

“The hardware store?”

She sounded skeptical. I don’t know why. All I’d done that afternoon was hang thingies on little hooks. It wasn’t hard.

“Yes, for Grandpa Avery.”

Spencer, having recovered himself, posed the next question. “Didn’t his grandson go to school with you?”

“Yes, Roman,” I said. I chewed on my lip, and I guess the lip-chewing was a sign of something because my mother had to ask.

“What did you do?”

I ducked my head. “I kinda broke his nose.”

Spencer roared with laughter, but my dad didn’t find it so funny. He got his stern young-lady-you-will-not-behave-like-that expression.

“I apologized,” I offered. “But he called me that ... name.” That horrible, awful name the other kids used to tease me with.

“What name?” my mom asked.

I decided to focus on Spencer. It seemed safer than my parents. After all, he had the same last name and had heard it, too.

“Pirtle the turtle,” I replied in a low volume.

Spencer grinned. “I used to get Girtle Pirtle.” He stabbed his fork into his pork chop. “You’re lucky,” he said, the bite poised halfway to his lips. “You get to marry and change yours. I’m stuck with it.”

“Pirtle is a fine American name,” our father said. He always said that, but then he was stuck with it, too.

I glanced at my mom. “What did you think when you and Dad got married and you had to be Mrs. Pirtle?”

She smiled, and I could see the wheels clicking in her head. She wanted to say one thing, but with Dad there didn’t dare. Blotting her lips with a napkin, she coughed lightly. “Well, Pirtle is unusual. But, after all, I was DeeDee Frankowski. I was grateful it was short.” She flicked her wrist. “Besides, you’ll do anything when you’re in love. I’d have taken his name no matter how strange it was.”

My dad’s scowl disappeared. “Had an aunt named Myrtle Pirtle,” he said.

This made us all laugh. Eventually, the laughter died, however, and I was faced with my dad again.  His stern countenance returned. “I think you should pay for any medical care the boy needs.”

Pay? No. No. I couldn’t pay. That’d mean working there longer, and this was only for two weeks, only until I had one paycheck and could buy the perfect swimsuit. Paying for anything else would set me back, and being set back meant not buying the suit in time for the party. I couldn’t possibly pay. I was on a schedule.

“I think that’s an excellent idea,” my mother said.

Ganged up on. Parents in agreement are the worst thing because any effort to play one off the other falls flat. Suddenly, you have to actually do what they’ve asked.

“I think they have insurance,” I said. That’d solve it. Surely, they had insurance and wouldn’t need me to pay them anything.

“Then you’ll work for what it would’ve cost. You have to learn to control yourself,” my dad said. “I’ll call and speak with Mr. Avery myself.”

So that I wouldn’t get out of it. That’s what he meant. My bikini dream was slowly evaporating before me, but there simply had to be a way to salvage it. I wanted to go to the swim party, and I was not wearing that flaming orange shroud. I was eighteen, a legal adult. I’d graduated from high school with fair grades. It was time I decided what I wanted to do with my life, and it started with a two piece and the attention of Roger Keen.

But I kept all this to myself because there again was my little white lie. I’d buy the suit, leave the house dressed conservatively, and put it on at Megan’s. My parents would never know and no one would be hurt, least of all, me.

I pushed my chair back from the table. “May I go?”

My dad nodded, and I left the room. Yet my frustration rose with every footstep. They wouldn’t ruin this for me. They wouldn’t. Why were they involved anyway? This was between me and Roman, and if he didn’t ask me to pay then it shouldn’t matter to anyone else. We were old enough to make our own decisions.

I threw myself down on the bed, my eyes on the ceiling. Funny Roman being there though and me not knowing it. I was sorry I’d broken his nose, and I can’t say I blamed him for being mad. But we’d gotten along okay afterward, so maybe this job wouldn’t be so bad for the short time I held it, and it’d get me toward my goal.

I pictured the moment. Me in the perfect suit slipping out the sliding glass doors of Megan’s patio. Me sauntering over to the pool, and Roger Keen giving me the look.

“Who’s the girl in the bikini?” he’d ask.

“Coralee Pirtle,” someone would say.

“Can’t be. She’s beautiful.”

I played it all out in my head with a sigh, a sigh which turned into a frown at sight of my brother. He leaned overhead. “What’s the truth?” he asked. “What are you up to?”

“Honestly, Spence, I just want to make a little money.”

“Money for what?”

I gave a huff and crossed my arms. “For spending. Isn’t that what money is for? And Mom and Dad have been after me about not lying around, so everyone should be happy.”

“Except you broke some boy’s nose.”

“Except for that.”

He ruffled my hair, sending it spraying in all directions, and my gaze darkened. I hated that.

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” he said.

“What’s to know?” I asked. “I do my job. I get a paycheck, and it’s all good.”

He made a face and left the room. All good. And I was one day closer to the perfect moment. Except now I had to figure out how to get out of paying any restitution, and for that, I thought I’d use a little female persuasion.

Roman was a guy, right? And I was a girl. Pickins’ should be easy.

“No? What do you mean, ‘No’? You said yourself your dad took care of the bill.”

Roman’s steely-eyed gaze dueled with mine. “I mean, ‘No.’ That’s what I mean. You broke my nose. I now look like an idiot, and no amount of slinky, skin-tight ... No.”

Okay, I’d overdone it on the blouse, but my thinking had been he’d like to see my assets. And he’d stared – briefly – then made the horriblest face.

“Really, Coralee? That’s not ... decent.”

Not decent? He sounded like my parents.

“What’s not decent about it?” I asked. “My mom bought it.” Three years ago, and now it was too small. I don’t know how I’d managed to get out of the house in it. I take that back. Yes, I do. My mom wasn’t looking because if she had been, I’d be toast.

“I don’t believe your mom saw you leave in that,” he replied. Reaching below the counter, he pulled out a t-shirt and slung it to me. “Put that on.”

I unfolded the garment and stared at the hardware store logo. “Really?”

“We should wear them anyhow,” he said. “I just never bother. But maybe from now on I will.”

I tugged my shirt from my waistline and made to yank it over my head, but his firm hand stopped me. “Gees, Cora, not here. Go in the back.”

Right. I switched shirts and returned to find his naked chest glowing up at me. I paused on one hip. Roman was not an ugly guy, but he was the antithesis of Roger. Where Roger looked like he’d whisper something Italian in your ear, you expected Roman to say, “Dude,” and grab his surfboard. I actually hadn’t any idea if he surfed or not, but with his looks, he could.

Which made me wonder why he was single, so I asked. “No girl’s wanted to paste herself to that?” I asked nodding at his abdomen.

He made a face. “No. I don’t see you with anyone either.” He donned the shirt and shook his shoulders to settle it.

“I don’t need a girl.”

“Nice and haha.” He turned his back on me.

“Seriously, you haven’t dated?” I was feeling persistent. I’d wound myself sort of around him at that point, looking upward.

He stared down at me. “No, I haven’t dated. Haven’t met anyone I’d like to date.”

“That’s a shame. You’re eligible material.”

His brow shot up. “Oh?”

“Sure. You’re handsome, and you’ve got a job. A little moody, but I’ll chalk that up to being a guy.”

One side of his mouth curved. “What else?”

“Well ...” I stood to my feet. “You have a nice butt.”

He looked over his shoulder and down at his rear. “I do?”

“Yep.”

It took him a minute to turn back forward, as if he was still thinking about what I’d said.

“What about you?” he asked. “You’re pretty, yet you’re single.”

Roman Avery calling me pretty was like my brother saying I looked nice. It had about the same effect, but I figured he’d be insulted if I didn’t act happy about it, so I smiled.

“Thanks, on the compliment. And no guy wants a girl who has no aspirations, can’t cook, and could break their nose.”

He didn’t respond right off, which was curious to me. Actually, he looked at me kinda funny. “You did break my nose,” he said finally. He sounded really nasally now, with the bandage on his face.

“Yes, I did.”

“You really can’t cook?”

I shook my head. “Not a thing.”

He paused, one hand on the counter. “You’ve tried?”

“My mom decided I would learn when I was fifteen, but all I managed to do was burn the kitchen down.”

“Burn the ... Did you really?”

I smiled. “Yep. Fire department had to put it out.”

He started laughing then, but it sounded like a donkeyish bray. “That’s so you,” he said eventually. “I can picture it.”

I wasn’t sure if that was good or bad, but decided not to be offended. I had burnt the kitchen down. I was trying to fry bacon, only the grease got too hot and next thing I know there’s flames shooting out all directions, and I’m dumping water on it. Only I didn’t know you can’t put out a grease fire with water, so actually, I made it worse. Cost my dad a bunch of money to fix, too. But my mom was happy in the end because she’d been after him to remodel, and told me later I’d “provided her with the excuse.”

“I’m glad you’re okay.”

This remark from him brought me out of my smoke-filled memory. “Yeah, and thanks.”

He revolved on his heel and signaling me, went into the back. I followed, running into him when he came to a halt. This weird sensation crept up my limbs and my nose started to twitch. He smelled great, like I’m-a-girl-sniffing-a-guy-and-can’t-think great. I inhaled, my brain sizzling like a fried egg.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“You smell ... wow. What is that?”

He pulled himself away from me and turned. My vision was all blurry at this point, and I was having a hard time retrieving any shred of thought.

“The cologne?” he asked.

“Uh huh.” I was now reduced to monosyllables.

“You like that?” He sounded surprised.

“Gr-eat.” I, in turn, sounded like that cartoon cereal tiger.

He slumped on one hip. “Some stuff my mom gave me. I’ve never worn it before.”

“Do. Should. Wear. Great.”

He crinkled his brow. “What’s wrong with you?”

I wasn’t sure. Except if I didn’t escape the cologne, I’d be reduced to a blob of pudding within ten minutes. “Help,” I said.

“Okay.” He tossed his head. “You can sort socket wrenches. Take this box to aisle five.” He pointed downward. “You do remember your fractions, right?”

I lifted the box. “Five-eighths. Three-sixteenths,” I babbled and headed down the aisle.

CHAPTER 2

When my brain had cleared from the effects of Roman’s cologne, I realized he hadn’t let me out of paying for his broken nose. Rats. That was a serious problem, and a curious one. It seemed spiteful of him to hold me to it like that, but then he hadn’t seemed spiteful, more insistent. Which made me wonder about him.

What little I remembered of him in school involved an oral report in English and participation in Phys Ed. The one he’d hated; the other he’d loved. As I’ve said, Roman wasn’t a bad-looking guy. He was in decent enough shape, just not my type.

I toted the box down the indicated aisle, dropped it at the edge of a metal rack, and peeled off the tape. I plunged my hands in and pulled out what looked like pipe fittings. This made me a bit miffed because he’d said socket wrenches. But I figured one was as good as another, so I might as well hang them up.

I gave them a shove across the floor to where the plumbing bins were and looked again in the box. The contents had gotten jostled in shipping and so were all mixed together. I’d discovered that much of what was for sale in the shop was mixed together, and this irritated me. I wasn’t a neat freak exactly, but the girl-side of me preferred things organized a bit better.

Then I took a closer look at the bins and had a fit. It was like every customer for the last thirty years had come through there, picked up and discarded parts, and they’d never been straightened. Plus, the way the items were displayed in the aisle seemed all wrong. They should go by type and size. That way you could go down your list without moving back and forth.

Surely, no one would mind if I fixed things. That was what I’d said I’d do. Therefore, I began unhooking and re-hooking. I shifted prices and signs. I finally got to my box of pipe fittings just before lunch time. I realized it was lunch time because my stomach growled. I hadn’t seen hide or hair of Roman or Grandpa Avery. So toting my empty box, I returned behind the swinging doors and found it empty.

Strange. They hadn’t told me they were going anywhere. Obviously, I couldn’t abandon things if I was the only one around. This was mildly upsetting. I was hungry, after all. But maybe with a little patience, one of them would pop up.

I revolved on my heel and stepped behind the counter. Right at that moment, the bell on the front door chimed and an elderly gentleman in worn coveralls entered. He was stooped over at the waist and walked with a wobble, a lot like he was on a teeter-totter.

I put on my chipper voice. “Good morning. How can I help you?”

The old man paused and glared at me. Well, it seemed like a glare. “Where’s Romey?” he said.

Romey? I wanted to laugh at that nickname but figured that wouldn’t help things. “He’s out right now, but perhaps I can find what you need.”

He looked like he was thinking about that. He tilted his head to the right and scratched an age-spotted scalp. “Well, I need me some pipe fittins’,” he said.

Having just put those up, I knew exactly where they were. “I can help you with that. What kind do you need?”

“I need a one-inch male PVC adapter and a one-inch reinforced steel female adapter, a can of glue, and ...”

The rest of his statement was lost on me because I was stuck on the beginning portion. Male and female? This threw me for a loop. Forget I didn’t know what an adapter was. The fact they had sexes was news. I did know where they were though, so that was a start and I knew how big an inch was, also good.

Determined not to look dumb, I rounded the counter and motioned toward the aisle I’d just left. “Right this way,” I said.

The old man’s footsteps shuffled across the bare concrete floor in his path behind me. I took my time, both because I was in the dark as to what exactly I was looking for and also because he was not quick on his feet. But eventually there we both were side-by-side.

“Now, what was that again?” I asked.

If he’d seemed angry before, now he was really peeved.

“A one-inch male adapter and a one-inch reinforced steel female adapter. Plus, I need a can of glue and a standard half-inch nipple.”

A nipple? My cheeks flamed. I hadn’t any idea what he was asking for but by that name I didn’t want to know.

The old man scanned the racks. “Who organized these?” he asked.

Well, this I could take credit for, and I was partially relieved for the change in topic. “I did, sir,” I said. Obviously, he was a regular to have noticed how much better it looked.

His scowl became a death mask. Mine. “Where’s Romey?”

“I ... I’ll go find him,” I said. I wanted nothing to do with this man now, nor did I want to spend my time looking for pipe fittings with sexes and nipples.

I left the man standing there and scooted into the back. Finding it still empty, I delved deeper in the storage area than I’d gone before. It was musty back there, and the smell made me sneeze. This brought Roman out of whatever hole he’d been cooped up in.

“Where have you been?” I asked, my voice edging on panic.

One eyebrow rose. “Back here working. Why?”

“There’s some old man asking for you, and he wants ... wants ...” Please don’t make me say it.

He didn’t. He scooted past me and through the folding doors.

I hadn’t the guts to follow him, didn’t care what any of the products were at this point, and only wanted to remain hidden. Thus, it was some fifteen minutes before I saw Roman again.

His expression was a mirror of the old man’s. “What have you done?” he asked.

“W-with what?”

“That aisle. I couldn’t find anything. Mr. Butler is a regular, and now, he’s upset. Says he’ll go to the big home improvement store next time where people know what he’s talking about.”

“But he asked ... asked for ...”

“Asked for what?” Roman had his hand on his hip now. “And why’d you move everything?”

I exhaled. “It was disorganized. That is what your grandpa wanted, me to organize things.” He’d said so before he’d hired me.

Roman didn’t dispute this, but he didn’t look any happier. “That may be, but you didn’t ask first and people are used to the other.”

Used to chaos? That was dumb. “By all means, we should stay in a rut whenever it’s comfortable,” I replied.

Roman was eyeing me now.

“And Mr. Whoever shouldn’t have been so angry about it,” I continued. “It’s not my fault I didn’t know ... know ...”

“Didn’t know what?”

I chewed on my lip.

“Coralee.”

I blew out a loud breath. “He wanted parts with sexes and a ... a nipple. That’s vulgar.”

Roman’s laughter was out of place with my embarrassment. There really wasn’t anything funny so far as I could see, but apparently to him there was because he proceeded to howl for quite some time. Until I jabbed him in the chest.

He held a hand in front of his face and reversed. “Don’t you hit me,” he said.

“Then stop laughing.”

He smoothed his expression and grabbing hold of my shoulder, turned me around. “This way,” he said.

I followed him out of the back, around the counter, and down the aisle again. He plucked several items from the rack and held him out for me to see.

“These are adapters. The male has an outward extension. See? Right here?” He then switched it for another. “The female has threads and no extension.”

“Oh. An inny and an outty.” That made complete sense.

“A nipple is this piece.” He dropped the other two, which was annoying to me and again, was not organized, and held out a black tube.

“Not what I was thinking,” I said.

This made him smile, and at that moment, my stomach growled again. He stared at it and then raised his gaze to my face. “Have you had lunch?”

“No.” I didn’t even know when I was supposed to take lunch or for how long.

“Well, go ahead then, but come back in thirty minutes.”

I hesitated, unmoving, and his brow wrinkled. “What is it this time?” he asked.

I scrubbed the toe of my shoe left and right. “Well, I kinda don’t have any money or know where to go.”

He sighed. “Tell you what, I’ll get Grandpa to watch things, and we’ll go together.”

I nodded, and he disappeared. But he left the parts he’d shown me on the bottom shelf. I bent over and picked them up. “Men,” I said.

Coralee in a shirt obviously too small had sent Roman’s testosterone into overdrive until he awakened and realized what she was up to. Shameful part was it had almost worked. She was ... well made. But in his thinking, that only meant she should cover up more, not hang it all out. She was special, and that superior quality should be reserved for the future, for whatever guy was lucky enough to have her by his side. Because he’d be the luckiest guy on the planet.

Therefore, he’d done the decent thing and turned away. Yet the change in shirt didn’t help his poor mind much. He’d already seen what he’d seen and there they were still gazing up at him. He couldn’t wipe the memory away. Nor could he figure out what had happened to her with the cologne. She’d acted weird. His mom had bought him the stuff last Christmas, and truthfully, his only thought had been he ought to wear it. It had been rather expensive.

The whole incident with the pipe fittings remained intensely funny, but more because of the look on her face. He’d learned more about boys and girls in the hardware store than he ever had at home. But that had been when he was ten, not nineteen.

Yet Coralee was in many ways as innocent now as he was then, though he figured she didn’t know that. She wasn’t stupid. She’d outscored him in school. Sheltered was maybe a better word, and there was something to be said for that. It made her even better in his view because she showed no negative opinions on how things ought to be. She wasn’t tainted by people and events, but innately pure and honest. He liked that about her, and more and more as time went by.

Roman stuck his head in his grandpa’s office and found him half-asleep in his chair. He paused, hating to wake him up, but the thought of having lunch with Coralee rose up in front of him. It wasn’t a date. He’d never have that, but it was thirty minutes with the two of them together. He might not get another chance.

He cleared his throat. “Grandpa?”

His grandpa’s eyes flicked open, and he stared back, unfocused. He sat up in his chair with a start. “Goodness, fell asleep. Didn’t I?”

“Yes, sir,” Roman replied. “I need you to watch the counter. Coralee and I are going to lunch.”

His grandpa smiled wide. “I like that girl,” he said with a chuckle. He’d said that many times in the last twenty-four hours. “You just go have a good time. I’ll be fine. Fine.”

Roman turned his steps toward the front, but a thread of worry remained. His grandpa wasn’t the same anymore. He was tired all the time, and he slept a lot. He ought to retire, but Roman knew that made him feel as if he was giving up.

Without my shop, I’m nothing, he always said.

But what happened when it all proved to be too much? When exactly was the right time for him to stop?

Roman shoved his depressing thoughts aside and set his mind instead on Coralee. Right now he had thirty minutes with a girl who didn’t know how very beautiful she was. He ought to dwell on that instead. Grandpa would be okay that long.

Some toddler round about age three had on those horrible shoes, the kind that make electronic squeaking noises with every step. The child’s parent was either stone deaf or numb. Had to be. Because two minutes into our meal at the hamburger place, I was ready to rip them off and tear them to shreds. Hang the kid crying over it.

Roman was eyeing them too, one eye squinched.

“You think if I aim this right and land it on their table ...” I held up a wadded napkin. “I can distract the parent long enough you can nab the kid?”

His mouth curved into a crooked grin. He was tempted. “Ten bucks says you can’t make it.”

“Ten bucks says I can.” I pointed the napkin toward them and was ready to dunk, when he grabbed hold of my hand. I looked across at him, struck by the fact Roman was holding my hand, albeit for no other reason than stopping me.

“Remember Clifford Darnell?” he asked.

He left his hand on mine longer than I thought necessary, and I gave him an eye. But he moved it, not acting like it was anything weird, so I let the incident go.

“Cliffy Baby?” I asked.

Roman laughed. “He hated that.”

“As much as I hated Pirtle the Turtle.”

Roman winced and touched the side of his nose, right above the bandage. “Anyhow, he and Theresa are getting married.”

Married? This sat me back in the seat. They’d dated pretty regular the last year, but marriage seemed like a huge step.

“So she’ll be Theresa Darnell?”

He nodded. “You thought about it?”

“Thought about what? Marriage?”

This was an interesting conversation to be having with Roman. With any guy, for that matter. I didn’t know much about what guys really thought about marriage and the like. I mean, my dad married my mom, so obviously they did think about it. But still I figured most people waited until they were in their twenties. That way you could get college behind you, if you chose to go, and have a better idea what you were doing with your future.

Then again, hormones were powerful things. I was using mine to buy a swimsuit.

Roman was looking at me, expectant, so I took a quick swig of my soda and set about to answer. “I haven’t thought much about getting a job before now, much less being serious about anyone.”

He sat back in the booth, one arm hooked over the back of the seat. “But you would if you found the right person?”

I tapped my fingers on the table. All this talk about marriage was making me nervous, but I had a good enough answer for his question. “I guess if you like somebody a lot then you do whatever you can to be with them. I simply haven’t tried to like anybody.”

He tipped his head left, and I had this moment where I got a real good look at him. He had gray-green eyes. What color they were depended on the lighting at that moment. Right then they were more gray than green. He also had long, girl-type lashes. I don’t know what it is about a guy with nice lashes that makes girls go all goggle-eyed, but I was as guilty of it as any of my friends.

Looking at his eyes made me look at his lips, and that sent my mind in a weird direction. Kissing. I couldn’t believe I was looking at Roman and thinking about kissing. I mean, I’d never considered kissing any boy, past Roger, that is. But Roman had a kissable mouth. At least, I figured it was because I hadn’t anyone else’s to compare just then. However, in really studying his lips, they were full enough to make him manly and yet have a fair amount of surface.

“What are you thinking?” he asked.

My cheeks grew warm. No way I was gonna tell him I was thinking about if he could kiss or not. After I’d broken his nose, that’d be the last thing he wanted to hear, so I waved my hand and laughed. “Nothing, really, but that this is such a mature conversation, and I never thought I’d have it with you.”

He smiled. “Why not me? You and your girlfriends don’t talk about the future?”

“Let’s see ...” I pointed my forefinger at my temple. “No.” Then I changed my answer slightly. “Well, weddings. We talk about weddings because every girl plans hers from about age five, but not with who or anything.” I glanced past him at the thinning restaurant crowd. “Say, aren’t we out of time?” I was partially distracting him from the talk.

He pulled out his cell phone and awakened the screen. “Yep.”

I scooted out of the booth, glad to be done with lunch and our conversation. However, he did something strange then. He stood up and hooked one arm around my shoulders. I looked up at him best I could from my close position.

“I like you, Coralee,” he said. “Whatever guy you finally ‘try to like’ is gonna be lucky.”

I was surprised he’d say that, but then Roman continually surprised me. I decided I’d return the favor, since he’d been generous and bought me lunch. I hooked my hand around his waist, in the process getting another good sniff of that cologne and thus making it well worth the effort, and squeezed.

“Whatever girl gets to kiss you is gonna enjoy it.”

CHAPTER 3

The TV was running, but he wasn’t really watching it, a fact pointed out to him when his dad entered the room. Laying one hand on his shoulder, his dad gazed down at him. “Whatcha thinkin’ about?”

Roman glanced upward. He favored his dad and then he didn’t. They had some of the same facial features and coloring, but the eyes came from his mom. “Who says I’m not watching TV?” he asked.

His dad laughed once. “You’re watching that.”

Roman swiveled his head back toward the TV. Good point. Girl program. He switched it off.

His dad released his shoulder and circled the couch, taking a seat on the other end. “Speak.”

“It’s Grandpa,” Roman said. “He’s ...”

“Getting old?” His dad finished his question.

Roman nodded. He hated thinking of Grandpa as old. From his earliest memories, his grandpa was always there. Day in and day out, they’d spent time together, and more in recent years with him working at the hardware store. He was a fixture almost, and thought of him not being around was upsetting.

“He has a lot of good years yet,” his dad said. “But he has slowed down recently, and I think that’s a sign of things to come. He relies on you.”

Grandpa had said the same. So glad you’re workin’ with me. I know I can take the day off and things will keep runnin’. Yet despite that, he’d never actually taken a day off.

“I caught him sleeping in his office today,” Roman said. “He was disoriented when I woke him up.”

His dad’s brow wrinkled a bit, and he ran a hand through his hair. “He could probably use a checkup, but getting him there is the issue. I’ll have to get your mother on it.”

Grandpa was his mom’s dad, though his own dad and he were great friends.

“If she can’t convince him, then she’ll have to call in the troops.”

The troops being her sister and brother, one older, one younger. They both lived out of state, so getting them involved would be complicated.

“I’d feel better if he did,” Roman said. “I can handle the store, especially now that Coralee’s working there.”

At Coralee’s name, his dad’s expression changed to one of curiosity and a bit of that fatherly know-all dads seemed to wear.

“You sure Grandpa’s the only thing on your mind?” he asked.

Roman’s mouth curved upward, a good enough answer, and his dad chuckled.

“That’s what I thought. Why don’t you ask her out?”

Roman snorted. “Because she won’t give me the time of day.”

“Oh, I think you’re being too harsh. You need to have some confidence.”

Confidence had never been his best thing, especially where girls were concerned. Graduating from high school hadn’t made that any better.

“We had lunch together.” And she’d made the strangest comment at the end. Her arm around his waist, her curves fitted to his—

Roman swallowed. That part had been nice. But why’d she say anything about kissing? They hadn’t talked about kissing. Marriage, which was sort of related in a way, but not specifically kissing. He’d only brought up marriage to see how she’d react, and she hadn’t much wanted to talk about it.

Disappointment jabbed him in the chest.

“You like her,” his dad said.

Roman sighed. A lot. More with every day, yet she paid him no more mind than a grain of sand. At least, not like that.

His dad rose from his seat and wandering over, patted him on the arm. “Some things take time. Be patient, and one day she’ll wake up and see you for the great guy you are.”

His footsteps left the room, and Roman stared back at the black TV screen. But what if she didn’t? What if all he ever was to her was the “nice guy” at the hardware store?

That simply wasn’t good enough.

I escaped to my room after supper, my thoughts taking over my head. It was like they were crammed in there so tight, it’d take a crowbar to get them all out, and then I’d have to spend hours and hours unjumbling the mess they’d become.

I needed to think, make some sense of what was bothering me, the biggest of which was Roman. Somehow in my head, he’d changed from the guy I knew in school to the guy I worked with and actually liked. It was the liking part that was picking at me because on the scale of likeability, he was working his way up there.

For one thing, he was funny. Any guy who could make me laugh and at the same time laugh with me was a great guy, so he had major points for that. For another thing, he was considerate. He made sure his grandpa had everything he needed at any point in the day. He checked on me continually with a “you okay?” And the customers loved him. That store ran because of Roman Avery; that much was plain.

He was also a good planner. He remembered things, ordered what needed to be ordered, made sure they were never out of anything. He was reliable, and that was the biggest brownie point of all. Roman was the guy you could call in the middle of the night and actually find where he said he’d be, knowing when you did he’d come to your rescue.

All of that made him grow on me. Like a commercial jingle you found yourself humming, not realizing you knew it. Sitting there on my bed staring at the ceiling, it hit me strong as a brick dropped on your toe. I liked him. Liked him to the point I kinda wanted to see him.

I couldn’t bring myself to use the f-word yet. Friend. Calling him my friend meant admitting I not only wanted to see him, but I relied on him as well, and I wasn’t sure if I was ready for that. Reliance was a big step. It meant instead of thinking of what I would like in a situation, I’d be thinking about him. It meant letting go of my usual pattern, and the more I thought about that, the more I realized I was an incredibly self-absorbed, selfish person.

Life had become all about me. I didn’t want to go to college, so I didn’t. I didn’t want to work, so I hadn’t. I wanted a bikini, so I got a job with the sole purpose of buying one. I hadn’t changed my mind on that, but my motive had increased the guilt-factor in it. I wanted “me” to be happy first and foremost more than any other person in my life, and that idea altered my image to one not quite so accomplished and rosy. One I didn’t care for.

I wanted to be different. I wanted to be—

A hand on my breastbone, I mashed hard. Gees, did I really want that? The rest of the sentence glowed there before me, and I knew I really did want that.

I wanted to be more like Roman Avery. I wanted to be dependable, caring, thoughtful, and trustworthy. I wanted to be the person people knew they could ask for a loan and I’d provide it, the one who’d drive you to work every day because I had time, the one who’d bring you a pick-me-up card if you were having a bad day. I wanted to be Valentine’s Day, the Fourth of July and Christmas all at once.

But I had a long way to go to get there. Looking at this as a goal, it was Mount Everest, and I was in Death Valley. We were a long ways apart.

Nevertheless, if I didn’t start sometime, I’d never arrive.  That was how things worked.

I pulled myself up from the bed and walked over to my makeup vanity. Seating myself, I dug around in the overflowing drawer of stuff for a notepad and pen. I’d write my declaration down, and that’d make it official.

Smoothing the page, I wrote numbers one through four. One, admit I liked Roman. That seemed like the first step to becoming the better me. I had to say I liked him or I was lying to myself. Two, become dependable. This was maybe a bit harder, but still attainable. I’d have to dedicate myself to it. Three, think of others and not so much of myself. This one put a kink in my bikini dreams, but I figured I’d work my way around that.

Lastly, I wrote, be less spontaneous. Think before I acted, with the goal in mind of doing the right thing for everyone. I didn’t like this point, but it had to be there and would perhaps be the hardest one of all. Might even take me until after Megan Dairy’s swim party. I was sure on Roger Keen’s arm it’d be a whole lot easier than it seemed right now.

Having finished my list, I folded and tucked it in the corner of the drawer. I felt better, like I was on my way to becoming someone and not the no one I currently was.

I looked up and caught my reflection in the mirror. I sat there for the longest time, staring. I imagined what it would be like to kiss someone. I’d thought about that a lot at lunch, so it was still buzzing around in my brain. I pictured Roger Keen. Kissing him would be amazing, the fulfillment of all my dreams. But the picture faltered a bit. I tried to think of him getting close enough to me to be affectionate and couldn’t.

Weird. Because every time he did, it wasn’t him I saw but Roman. I could see myself kissing Roman a whole lot easier than the boy of my dreams.

Confused, I decided to drown myself in the shower.

“Good morning, Mr. Avery.”

Grandpa Avery looked up at me from behind the counter, and his eyes drew together funny.

“It’s me, Coralee,” I said. I couldn’t figure why he didn’t recognize me, but that’s how it seemed.

He ran his knuckles across his forehead. “Coralee.”

“Coralee Pirtle. I work here.”

“Oh, yes, yes,” he said. “Coralee. Glad you’re here, Coralee. I need you today. Roman has the day off.”

Roman has the day off? My spirits sunk. A whole day without seeing Roman. I shouldn’t feel bad about that. He worked hard, day in and day out, weekends. He deserved a day off. And we weren’t fr ... The word stuck in my throat.

“He’s not sick, is he?” I asked.

“Sick?” Grandpa Avery worked his lips into a pucker. “You hear he was sick?”

“No. I was asking you.”

He smiled broad. “Well, if you’re asking me, then no, he isn’t. Good boy, my Roman. Can’t run this place without him.” Grandpa Avery looked back down at the paper in front of him. “Now, what was I doing? Roman usually does this, and I’ve lost my place.”

I glanced over his shoulder at the sheet. Morning inventory. Yes, that was Roman’s job, and he probably did most of it in his head. Roman’s brain was full of numbers: inventory, pricing, payroll. He could look at a list of items, tally them mentally, and tell you the cost almost to the penny.

“Want me to do it?” I asked. It’d take me a whole lot longer than Roman. But Grandpa Avery seemed so discombobulated, I didn’t think he was able.

“Would you, dear?” he asked. “That’d be helpful. Then I could tend to some stuff in the back.”

“Sure, I’ll do it.”

Grandpa Avery patted me on the shoulder and shuffled through the swinging doors. I took up the sheet in my left hand. Truth was, I was glad to have something to occupy my mind because the fact that Roman wasn’t there was still bugging me, and given my thoughts the night before, the thought it bugged me bugged me. This seemed like a good way to forget.

It took me two hours to complete the tally. I added it twice afterward and got two different figures. So I added it two more and got one figure twice. That one had to be the right one, so I wrote it down at the bottom. I then took the paper into the back to give it to Grandpa Avery.

He had this little office in the corner behind everything where you wouldn’t look for it if you didn’t know. I’d only been in there once, and that was following behind Roman. It was messy, Grandpa Avery not being good at putting anything away. This didn’t surprise me any because I’d been the one organizing things since I started working here.

I pushed the door open with a light knock, right in the spot where the paint had turned dark from so many palm prints, and halted in the doorway. He was asleep. Asleep? It was nine a.m. Maybe he hadn’t slept well the night before. I shouldn’t bother him. I tiptoed across the room and laid the form in his inbox. I put it on top where it’d be the most obvious and not likely to get shuffled under other stuff and left.

The shop was incredibly quiet up front until lunch time. I’d thought ahead and made myself a sandwich, figuring that’d be better than expecting Roman to buy me food every day until I got paid. Seated behind the counter, I consumed it and a bottle of water and sat and sat. The hours rolled by, and it came to me around two that I hadn’t seen Grandpa Avery. I went in the back and knocked on the door to his office.

He was sitting there staring back at me.

“You okay, Mr. Avery?” I asked.

He blinked slow and turtle-like. “Coralee, right?”

I scrunched up my face. He can’t have forgotten me again. That seemed abnormal.

“Coralee Pirtle,” I replied.

“Coralee, I think I’m going to go home. You’ll lock up for me?”

Lock up? As in stay here all afternoon and close at six by myself with no one to talk to? It’d been dead all day, not a single customer. It could pick up, but that’d only be more pressure because there’d be no one else here to help me if I got stuck. Yet looking at Grandpa Avery, I knew I had to say yes.

“Sure, I can do it. But you have to leave me a key.”

He stood to his feet and rummaged around in his pocket. Taking out a single key on a chain, he handed it to me. “Turn it to the right and be sure it clicks or the door doesn’t lock.”

“Okay. I will,” I said.

He nodded and dug around in his pockets again. This time he brought out a set that I knew went to his car. He had a midsized sedan. You know the kind older people drive – gold with cushy seats and a strange musty smell.

“Roman will be in tomorrow?” I asked.

He stopped for a second. “Tomorrow, yes.”

That was all he said before he left. The door chimed loud, sounding a lot to me like a funeral gong. Mine. And I was left there alone.

Bored. I put away one box of product I knew Roman would want me to. I dug up some glass spray and used it on the front door and the counter.

Not one customer entered, and the phone didn’t ring. I was starting to think maybe the rapture had happened and I was left behind when six o’clock came. Relieved, I closed up the shop, stuck the key in the lock and listened for the click.

My evening was an uneventful as the day. Supper. One hour of TV watching some rerun I didn’t like. I even took a really long bath. It wasn’t bedtime, but I gave in anyway and went to sleep. I woke up way too early, anticipation built high in me over seeing Roman.

Once again, I examined that. Was I actually eager to see him? I was. To the point, I fixed my hair and took extra time doing my makeup. Ridiculous. This was Roman. He wouldn’t care what I looked like. At the last second, I added a splash of perfume. Over the top. What was wrong with me?

Time finally came for work. I pocketed Grandpa Avery’s key and made my way there. Walking up to the front door, I took hold of the handle, swung it inward, and stopped. The shop was a wreck, a disastrous somebody-did-this-while-we-were-gone wreck. The shelves were moved around cockeyed. Products were all over the floor.

I stepped over and around it, my breathing loud in my ears. Approaching the counter, my eyes grew wide. The cash register was open and empty. No. This was wrong. Someone had robbed the place? Why?

I stuck my fingers in the empty register tray, disbelieving, and looked up at a sound from the back. Roman stood there, and he was mad. Mad, I’m-gonna-kill-you mad. Madder than he was when I broke his nose. I gulped and the key lay in my pocket, a hundred pound weight.

“What did you do?” he asked.

“I ... I ... I ...”

“The door was unlocked. Unlocked!” he snapped. “Grandpa said he gave you the key, told you how to close it. If it’s not done right, then it doesn’t catch.”

I clenched the key in my hand and drew it out. “But I did what he said, and it made the click.”

“Obviously not. They walked right in here and robbed us blind. Took almost five hundred dollars. That’s five hundred dollars you have to pay back.”

Me? But I already needed to pay him for his nose. Now, he was adding to it? I’d never get to buy a new suit. Never. My heart beat like a stone in my chest and my eyes welled up. The only sight I could see was Roman’s face. Roman who I’d missed the day before, thought about, wanted to see, and now, he hated me, the very opposite of ever being his friend.

My insides tearing out, I spun on my heel, and a sob flying from my lips, I ran.

CHAPTER 4

Sight of Coralee escaping the shop hit Roman with a jolt. Whatever she’d done or neglected to do, she didn’t deserve to shoulder all the blame. If he’d been here, this wouldn’t have happened. He’d elected to stay home.

He pushed the swinging doors and located his Grandpa surveying the damage. “Grandpa, I’m going to step out. I’ll lock the door behind me.”

His grandpa nodded, so he returned to the front. He exited, hanging the closed sign on his way out, and followed the direction Coralee had taken down the sidewalk. He spotted her at an outdoor table in front of Mama Bells’ Ice Creamery. She slumped in a chair, her face buried in her folded arms.

He took a seat at her side. “Coralee, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled at you.”

She was the entire reason he’d taken the day off, in effect, to sulk. His talk with his dad had bothered him so much the thought of working alongside her cheerful, oblivious-to-him personality was more than he could take. He’d thought he needed a day to get his head on straight.

Coralee gave no evidence she’d heard, only crying that much harder. He raised a hand, halting, to the back of her head. “It’s not all your fault. I should’ve been here.”

She sniffled and glanced up. Her eyes were red and her cheeks stained with tears. “I missed you.”

He froze. “Y-you did?”

She nodded. “Your grandpa was weird. He didn’t remember me, and then he did, and then he didn’t. Then he left early, and no one came in all afternoon. It wasn’t the same without you here.”

His tongue thickened. “Weird?” he asked at last.

“Yeah, forgetful. I did your inventory for him, put it on his desk.”

“You did the inventory?”

His grandpa’s forgetfulness worried him. He should say something to his mom. On the other hand, Coralee had done the inventory, which was impressive. Both thoughts faded, however, in the face of her admission.

Wiping her fingers beneath her eyes, Coralee tilted her head. “Why didn’t you come in?”

He dropped his hand to the table top, drumming his fingers on the glass. “Because of you.”

Fresh tears pooled on her cheeks.

“Not like that,” he said. Unthinking, he dabbed at them with his thumbs. She stilled. “I like you,” he continued. “But I didn’t think you liked me all that much.”

“You didn’t?”

He shook his head. “No. I mean, you broke my nose.”

“But we talked at lunch, and we were all over each other at the end.”

He pulled back a laugh. It was like her to say it that way. “I guess we were.”

She took a deep breath and sat up taller. “All I’ve done coming to work for your grandpa is create more debt. Your nose. Now the shop. I could work there for months and never pay it back.”

He studied her. He had saddled her with a lot of the money, and he still believed she should pay back part of it. But maybe it’d be better to give her a little slack.

“Let’s cut it all in thirds,” he said.

“Thirds?”

“Yeah, I’ll figure up the cost of everything and divide it by three, then you can make payments. That way you’ll still have part of your paycheck to spend. How’s that?”

She tossed her head, sending her hair swirling around her face. He stared for a minute, then reached out and took a curl in his fingers. “You styled your hair,” he said.

A wobbly smile came on her face. “Do you like it?”

“It’s pretty,” he said. “But you could wear a paper sack, and I’d like you the same.”

The smile on her face grew solemn. “Do you like me?”

He released the curl. “A lot.”

“So we’re friends then?” She asked it like it was the most important question of her life.

Scooting his chair closer, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her to him. She sighed and leaned her head on his shoulder.

“Friends,” he said.

Neither one spoke for a number of minutes, then her nose twitched. She leaned toward his neck and inhaled.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

She gave a sort of pleasurable grunt. “You smell good. Did you wear that for me?”

He laughed light. “Would it matter if I did?”

She snuggled in tighter. “Maybe.”

“Then, yes, I wore it for you.”

She sighed, a long, deep sound. “I guess we should go back and clean up the mess.”

He nodded, but made no attempt to rise, because the fact Coralee was lying against him had hit him full in the chest. She’d missed him yesterday. She’d wanted him to be there. He breathed in a shaky breath.

“You okay?” she asked.

“Yes.” The word caught in his throat.

“You don’t sound okay.”

He tightened his grip on her. “Let’s just say I am and go with it.”

She eyeballed him, then with a shrug, jumped to her feet and grabbed his hand. “Come on, lazy bones. We’ll be all day working if we sit here.”

I never thought working at the hardware store would be so much fun. But after Roman and I patched things up, after we cleaned up the mess, after we tallied up exactly how much was stolen, called the police and talked for a very long time to some fat cop who looked super bored, we actually became friends.

We took to having lunch together in the shop. I’d bring a sandwich or some other strange lunch item and we’d sit in the back and chat. I found out a lot about him I didn’t know – little things that only someone close to someone else would ever ask.

Like he showed me a scar on his knee he got motorbiking. I had no idea he even motorbiked, much less he’d had an accident. The scar went from the inside of his calf up across his knee and made his hair grow funny on his legs. He said it was pretty painful at the time and he cried a lot.

I eyed him when he said that. I mean, boys don’t cry, much less admit they cry. But Roman did, and he didn’t seem embarrassed by it at all. I was impressed because it meant he was sensitive. Not cry-baby sensitive, but aware of his feelings. Guys were hardly ever sensitive like that.

He told me about his mom being sick a while back, too. How he’d worried for her and prayed. Him talking about prayer fit right in with who he was. My family went to church, a different one from Roman, but it being important to his life was meaningful to me. It explained things about his personality as well, why my wearing the little shirt had bothered him so bad, why he didn’t date just any girl that he met. He was picky, and being picky about a relationship was a good thing.

Except it forced me to look at to my own idea to impress Roger Keen. There again, the guilt amped up. Roger Keen didn’t go to church. He hated it, in fact. He was in my twelfth grade trigonometry class, and he’d once gone on and on about how boring it was. Roger Keen also cursed a lot. With me walking around him goggle-eyed all the time, I’d noticed.

I started to wonder how Roger would react to things in comparison to Roman because Roman was now my ideal for manhood. Roger was falling kinda short. I’d bet Roger would be more apt to take something from the shop than help clean it up. He was self-absorbed to my recollection.

In thinking on that, the swimsuit became a paramount thing. It’d really have to be good to get his attention. I’d been thinking a simple two piece, but now, I saw I’d have to purchase the suit. I’d have to display what I had or he’d never pay me any mind at all.

Friday, week two, rolled around and it was finally pay day. I was so excited, on-pins-and-needles excited. I’d done what I set out to do, worked long enough to earn money for the suit. Saturday I could go shopping. Then next week I’d be free as a bird and could go back to my sedentary lifestyle.

But it hit me midday I couldn’t do that. I’d made goals. I wanted to be dependable, and quitting would make me anything but dependable. It’d make me a bum, a horrible bum with no shame. Now, I owed all that money, and if I quit, I couldn’t pay it back. That’d make me look dishonest. Plus, there was Roman in my life. Quitting meant not seeing him every day, and I wanted to see him every day. He was my friend.

My plans had changed because I had changed. This job mattered to me.

The end of the day came and Roman handed me my check. I stared down at it for a long time, then on impulse, hugged him. His face got all funny like it always did when I was affectionate, so I backed off.

He asked what I was going to do with it, and I told the truth. I said, “Pay you what I owe and go shopping.” He smiled, and we parted. I stopped at a check cashing place on my way home and stuck the money in my purse, separating what I owed Grandpa Avery for the shop and Roman for his medical bills. Then, the prospect of swimsuit shopping the next day high in my mind, I took myself home.

I got up early on Saturday and turned over in my head exactly what store I wanted to go to, deciding on one in particular. I picked it for several reasons. One, because no one I knew would be there. The last thing I needed was to run into some friend from church who knew my mom. Two, because it had reasonable prices, and, from my recollection, good styles.

I entered the double doors and almost giggled with glee. Tiny pieces of cloth stretched as far as my eyes could see.

A clerk approached, a young girl with a nose piercing. “Can I help you?”

I thought about what Roger would like and compared myself to other girls I’d seen him with. Maybe they were taller than me, but I didn’t think I was uglier.

I smiled. “I wanted to look at some bikinis. I have a party to attend and don’t have anything to wear.”

“Well, what style do you like?” she asked. “We have thongs, g-strings, Brazilians, whatever coverage you’re comfortable with.”

My eyes spread wide. Coverage. “I do want to be covered.” No way was I showing up at Megan Dairy’s party with my entire hind end hanging out.

“Well, these are our full cut pieces.” She lifted one from the rack.

Full cut equaled lame in my book. I didn’t want full cut either. If I was going to impress Roger Keen, then I needed to show a little bit of cheek. Right?

Faced with a choice, I looked past what she held to another rack. “What about these?” I asked.

“Those are Brazilians. Good choice. They’re in between. You have a color preference?” she asked.

There were a lot of color and pattern choices. I opted for pink, it being girly and generally speaking, a good shade for my skin type.

“You look like a four to me,” she said. She captured one from the rack. “Now, bikini tops. We have string, halter, classic, bandeau ...”

She rattled off their names, and I was confused, something she could evidently tell because she smiled and snagged several from the racks. “We’ll try more than one style. Perhaps once you put them on you’ll know.”

That was a good idea. Because having never worn one, I had no idea what would look good on me.

She funneled me into a dressing room, hanging my choices on the little silver hook, and shut the door.

Getting naked in a public place is weird, and there isn’t any way to try on swimsuits without taking it all off. Guys don’t understand that. They can pick something, hold it at arm’s length, and make a purchase without the trouble. But girls have to strip, and it’s uncomfortable.

My discomfort was made worse with the fact I’d never worn a bikini. It took a lot of wriggling to put the whole outfit on, and then standing there, gazing at myself, my face got hot. Nothing was left to the imagination. It was like wearing my bra and underwear. Yet girls did this all the time, so no one would notice. Well, Roger Keen would, I hoped.

“Need any help?” the girl asked.

No, I had it all on, but the battle in my mind now was more for my soul. I stuffed it down and opened the door.

The girl kinked her neck a bit and adjusted the top. “That’s maybe a bit small. I’ll get you the next size.”

Small. That’s why I felt so exposed then.

She came back with another one, and I switched it out. Again, more twisting and turning, then another big reveal. Her smile was wider now.

“Very nice. But do you like it?”

Loaded question. I spun around in the mirror, craning my face over my shoulder to look at my rump. Good? Bad? I closed one eye and tried to think like Roger. Good, I decided. Then I did something I probably shouldn’t have done. I pictured Roman instead.

My excitement waned. Roman wouldn’t like it. He’d be upset and tell me to cover myself up. But Roman wouldn’t be there, so I wouldn’t have to face him. I should leave him out of this choice. This was for Roger’s attention, not Roman’s.

“You could try the other style top,” the girl suggested.

True. Maybe the string top would be better. I nodded and returned to my cave. The string top was ... well, it made me look womanly. Let’s put it that way. The girl was all excited.

“That’s perfect. If you don’t buy that one, I’ll fail as a salesperson.”

I laughed because that was cute of her to say. But rats if I didn’t re-face the mirror and have Roman’s face peering over my shoulder. Figuratively speaking, of course. Roman would be horrified.

Why did I keep doing this to myself? This wasn’t Roman’s swimsuit. Roman’s invite. Roman’s party. I was simply going to stop letting him choose for me. This was for Roger, who would definitely notice me. This time next week, I’d strut out of Megan’s house, swing my hips, and he’d come drooling my way.

I blocked Roman from my thoughts and made up my mind. “This one,” I said. “It’s perfect.”

The girl took the other choices to hang them up, and I put my clothes back on. Then, suit in hand, I walked over to the register and plopped down just about every dollar I had to spare. This meant more sandwiches at work, but this suit was, after all, what I was meant to buy. Next paycheck, I’d start saving. But by then, I’d have Roger’s attention and wouldn’t need it since he’d been spending money on me.

The girl bagged the suit, and I tucked it under my arm. I pushed open the front door, the summer heat hitting me full in the face and head held high decided I’d treat myself to an ice cream on the way home.

I had a dollar left. A sandwich bar from the corner store would be the perfect cap on my future.

“How was your weekend?” Roman asked.

Coralee looked up at him, strangely guilty. She did that sometimes, and it usually meant exactly that. She was horrible at hiding anything.

“Good,” she replied.

Good? She was definitely covering. Coralee only left off descriptions when she didn’t want you to know something.

“You go shopping?”

“Mmmhmm.”

He slouched on one hip. It was none of his business if she did or didn’t, so he shouldn’t be bothered she was keeping quiet about it. Maybe she’d bought unmentionables. If that was the case, then he really didn’t want to know. But the thought of those made his mind go the wrong direction. He exhaled and turned away. He’d do best to keep himself occupied elsewhere.

He concentrated on the ledger for a time. Adding was a mindless task that he actually enjoyed. There was something about the black and white of it, the lack of gray, so to speak, that made it appealing. Maybe that made him a stick in the mud, but it helped here at the store. His grandpa couldn’t understand the need for computers, said they made men lazy.

Roman continued on, numbers whizzing through his head. At the bottom of the second page, he penned the total and reached for a bottled water. Swinging his arm outward, however, his elbow contacted something solid with a smack.

Coralee screeched and fell to the floor. Spinning around, he stared down at her wadded form. Feet splayed outward, neck kinked back, she cupped her hand over her mouth and gazed up at him.

“You busted my lip. I know I owe you and all, but ...” The rest of her words descended into a string of babbling grunts.

He tugged her fingers away. Her mouth had swelled on one side. “That’s gonna need ice on it,” he said. He glanced at his phone. It was almost closing. “Come home with me, and I’ll have Mom look at it.”

She blinked, her brows drawing together. “Come home? With you?”

What was strange about him asking her to come home with him? She’d said they were friends. Didn’t friends come over to each other’s homes all the time?

“Sure, why not?” He made light of it.

She fingered her mouth. “No reason, I guess.” The words hissed from her rapidly swelling lip. She sighed. “Great. I sound funny now.”

He stood and pulled her to her feet. “So you coming?”

She faced him, her lip now crimson. “I guess since you owe me for this,” she said. She made to turn, but stopped halfway, throwing one hand on her hip. “Wait ... I should charge you for my medical bill.”

He shook his head and laughed.

CHAPTER 5

Never mind Roman was suspicious about my shopping trip; he’d conked me good with his elbow and seemed sorry for it. I decided not to hold it against him. He’d invited me home, after all.

That was an interesting prospect. What kind of environment had formed Roman Avery into who he was? Eager to find out, I helped him shut the store then wandered outside to his car. His grandpa was leaving, and Roman watched him go before getting in. I could see he was worried. I couldn’t blame him for that. His grandpa had been forgetful lately.

Roman brought his gaze to my face. “How’d you get here today?” he asked.

Some days I borrowed my parents’ car. Other days my brother dropped me off. “I rode with Spence. His car smelled like fish sticks.”

Roman apparently thought this funny because he laughed.

He unlocked the doors and I hopped in. I was curious about him outside of the store. We’d talked about a lot of personal things, to a point, but talking and seeing were two different things. With that in mind, I took a good look at the inside of his vehicle. It was semi-clean. He had a few miscellaneous items in the center console:  spare change, a couple gas receipts, and a bottle cap. Music played from the speakers, a CD of rock tunes I recognized.

“Do I pass?” he asked.

I fixed my eyes on him. “It’ll do.”

He gave me a crooked smile and pulled out of the lot. The drive to his house took about twelve minutes, and in that period, my lip started throbbing. Like it would be after you’ve gone to the dentist and they’ve numbed you; it was there but not cooperating. So I didn’t say much.

He lived in a nice neighborhood, older, full of single-story ranch style houses. His had a brick front and a nice enough lawn, though I could tell a lot of it was weeds.  But they’d cut it short and kept up the flowerbeds along the walkway. I moved ahead of him to the front door and waited on the stoop until he let us in.

The foyer was moderate sized with two doorways, one off either side. Traveling left, I walked through a small formal sitting room to a larger living area in the back. His dad looked up from the couch.

Roman favored his dad in his shape and size. They had the same oval face and pointed nose. Well, I say pointed, but not weird or anything. It was a nice nose on a guy in my opinion. The big difference was Roman had blond hair, but his dad’s was dark brown.

“Coralee,” his dad said.

I nodded, wondering if he was looking at my fat lip or not. “Coralee Pirtle,” I said with a lisp.

His dad looked past me at Roman, who immediately attempted to explain things. “I whacked her in the mouth. I guess she and I are even now.”

His dad smiled, his lips showing his amusement.

Roman guessed it was funny in a way. “Where’s mom?”

“In the kitchen.” His dad nodded that direction.

We continued ahead, around a semi-circular couch and through a large opening. His mom was at the counter putting some type of meat in a pan. She rinsed her hands and wiped them on a red-checkered apron.

“You knocked it good,” she said. Circumnavigating the center island, she tipped my chin up with two fingers of her right hand. She had nice eyes. Roman’s eyes were like that, gentle.

“He didn’t mean to,” I said, defending him.

She released my chin and stepped over to the refrigerator. There, she wrapped several ice cubes in a wash cloth and handed them to me. “Put that on it for a few minutes.”

I obeyed, and after a few seconds it did seem to help, though man was it cold. She returned to her cooking, waving us both toward the stools. I plopped down on the nearest one.

“I hope you like roast,” she said.

I nodded. I liked it well enough, wasn’t much I didn’t like for that matter.

“How was your grandfather today?” she asked Roman.

I glanced at him.

“Okay. You think we can get him to the doctor?”

She sighed. “I’ve talked to him, but he’s stubborn. I’m afraid your aunt and uncle will have to get into it.”

She turned her back on us then, and I looked at Roman. He stood to his feet. “Come on,” he said. “I’ll show you my room.”

I readjusted the cloth on my lip and followed after him out the other side of the kitchen and down a short hallway. His bedroom was at the very end.

I liked his room a lot. It was bright and airy with a tree outside the window that made it green, sort of like being in the forest. His bed was to the left of the door. The bed cover was a blue and green plaid that fit right in with the atmosphere. To the right of the bed was a chair done in blue fabric. On the opposite side of the room was a dresser-desk combo.

I walked that way and scanned his things. It’s always weird when a girl goes in a guy’s room. I don’t know why we find it so fascinating, like they don’t have feelings or thoughts different from us, but we do. I spotted the bottle of cologne he’d been wearing. I picked it up and sniffed, which made him chuckle. I could have drowned myself in the stuff right then and there. Reluctantly, I set it down.

I walked to the desk. He had a few books from the shop on it. This didn’t surprise me. What did was a large, spiral drawing pad. I laid down my washrag and flipped it open. My eyes spun large.

“Wow. You draw?” Not only draw, but draw really well. Turning around, my butt perched on the edge of the desk, I ran my fingers over the sweeping lines and shapes.

They were all of people – his mom in a chair, smiling back at him; his dad reading the newspaper. The next one was of himself. I looked up at him. “These are really good.” I meant that, sincere. I couldn’t draw stick figures, yet these were so realistic. “Can you draw me?” I asked.

His face got that funny look on it he wore sometimes, but only for a second. “You want me to draw you?” he asked.

I nodded. “Yeah, then you’ll have me here all the time to look at.” I was playing, but he seemed to take that seriously.

He took the sketch pad from me and dug in a drawer for some pencils. “Sit somewhere and pose,” he said.

I settled myself on his desk chair and leaned back, my legs crossed at the knee. “Don’t give me a fat lip,” I said.

He acknowledged this with one of his silly grins.

He worked silently, looking from me to the paper and back. I did my best to smile, but my lip still hurt some. After about twenty minutes, he stopped.

“I guess that’ll have to do,” he said. “Come here if you wanna see it.”

I crossed the room and sat beside him on the bed. He handed me the sketch pad.

I was speechless, truly speechless. In that short period of time, Roman had drawn the best side of me. That really was the thing. It wasn’t that he’d drawn me, but he’d drawn an attractive me. Sitting there staring at it, I couldn’t believe it actually was me.

I raised my gaze to see his face, and the look in his eyes made my stomach dance. Drawn toward him, I sort of swayed, and before I could think, his mouth was only an inch from mine. In that instant, I had the strongest longing to kiss Roman Avery. I wanted it in the worst way imaginable, and somehow felt like it had to be.

“Roman, I ...” I started to speak. The smell of his cologne was licking at my senses, overwhelming my mind.

He laid his hand on my shoulder. “Coralee, we shouldn’t,” he said.

I sat back. Shouldn’t kiss. That’s what he meant. “Why shouldn’t we?” I asked. “I want to, and you want to.” He couldn’t deny that, it’d been written all over his face.

However, his answer was like a lot of his answers, from a different direction than I was thinking. “We should love each other,” he said.

Love. I liked the idea of loving someone, but wasn’t sure exactly what it felt like. I mean, this was Roman, and I liked him. As I’ve said, he was my ideal man, personality wise. But precisely what happened when you loved someone? And did I feel that for Roman?

I’d bought the swimsuit to impress Roger, and as far as I could think right then, that was still what I wanted. Yet if that was so, why then did I want to kiss Roman?

“If we were in love, you would kiss me?” I asked.

He smiled. “Of course. But we’re not.”

I’ve never been so disappointed than I was right then. More than anything in the world, I wanted to love Roman, if for no other reason than to keep from being sad that I didn’t.

“But what if we did one day?” I asked. I had to make some lemonade out of this.

And he did something so surprising. Flipping back a page in his sketch pad, he tore out the one of himself. “You keep this one,” he said. “I’ll always be your friend, Coralee, no matter what.”

I looked at that drawing and back at him, then leaned over and pecked him on the cheek. “I don’t guess that counts as a kiss. Does it?”

He didn’t say anything, and I lay my head on his shoulder.

He’d refused to kiss her on the grounds they didn’t love one another, the opportunity of a lifetime. Yet deep inside, Roman knew it was the right thing. Coralee looked at him as a friend, so whatever had come into her pretty head that moment they’d stared at one another, it wasn’t love. The whole thing would’ve been one-sided. He loved her, had fallen in love with her sometime after she’d broken his nose, but she didn’t love him.

Roman gazed from his bed at the drawing of her propped in the bedside chair, his heart rising into his throat.

She’d been curiously quiet during the meal. They’d watched TV together for a while after, and then he’d taken her home. The way she’d looked at him once she got out of the car had said everything left to say.

What would have happened if they’d kissed? He would’ve told her everything he was feeling, that’s what, and she didn’t need to deal with that because he wasn’t sure he knew how to deal with that.

He’d never prepared himself for all the mixed up emotions loving someone gave you. Some days he’d go from elation and anticipation to the biggest let down. Yet behind it all, he had to still be dependable Roman, son and grandson, as well as Roman, strong male figure. The code of manhood demanded that he exercise some self-restraint. Hard to do when everything inside him was washing this way and that.

Roman peeled himself from his bed and went over to the dresser. Sifting through the items he’d left on the top, he pulled out an envelope. Maybe it’d be good for him to get out for a while Saturday, be with other friends his age. If he could spend time with girls who weren’t Coralee, he might gain some perspective.

He pulled out a small card from a flowery envelope and read the invite again. Megan Dairy’s Beach Blowout. He’d thought about skipping, but after tonight, it might be a good idea to show up. Megan was a nice enough person, though a little inclined to dress too skimpy for his taste. He tucked that thought away. He wouldn’t judge.

Propping the invite against the mirror, he sat in the desk chair. He should act nineteen for once and not like he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders.  The shop, his grandpa’s memory troubles, and his confusion over Coralee could hold off for a few hours.

“Mom? Was Dad the first guy you ever kissed?” I surprised my mom with that question. She was mid-thread on this ginormous cross-stitch pattern she worked on in the evenings.

She lowered her hands to her lap. “No.”

“Did you love him? The guy you kissed, I mean.”

Her eyes took on an inquiring look. She wanted to know why I was asking.

“Not really.”

I kicked my legs back and forth across the carpet, skimming it with my bare feet. “Did you regret it?”

She set her pattern aside and curled her feet beneath her on the couch. “Well, he was a nice boy, but maybe in a sense I did because when your father finally kissed me, I was so in love with him it meant everything.”

I turned that over in my head. That was what Roman had said, only in different words. I didn’t love him, at least, I didn’t think I did. After all, I was still focused on impressing Roger. I couldn’t hardly be thinking about Roger if I loved Roman. Could I?

“Is this about that boy you work with?” she asked.

I bowed my head, and my hair curtained my cheeks. I was well aware she could see me, but the false-concealment was emotionally appealing right then.

“Is it?” she asked again.

I bobbed my head. “We almost kissed but didn’t. He said we should be in love. But if we should be in love and if we’re not in love, then why am I so disappointed?”

She pushed my hair back from my face, and my cheeks warmed. I could imagine I was pretty pink. I’d never thought I’d be talking to my mom about kissing.

“Love doesn’t come instantly for everyone,” she said. “Maybe you care for him more than you think you do. That’d make you disappointed. Or maybe it’s because you feel like as close as you are to each other, he ought to want to kiss you. Rejection.”

Did I feel rejected? I did in a way. And rejection is always bad. But when it comes from someone you’ve become friends with, it seems so much worse. That had to be it. I felt like he ought to have kissed me and since he didn’t, I was upset.

Upset, but relieved in a way that I’d figured it out. I really did want to impress Roger, not Roman. Roman wouldn’t be impressed anyhow. So what ... Roman hadn’t kissed me. Did I honestly expect him to? He was right. We were friends, and we shouldn’t have. I was only upset because of the whole refusal thing. We’d be okay together tomorrow.

I sat up straighter. “I have a party at Megan’s Saturday,” I said, switching the subject.

My mom released my hair and picked her cross-stitch back up. “Your swim outfit needs repairing.”

Swim outfit. Right. “Oh, I’ve decided not to swim,” I said. “I’m just gonna wear shorts and a tank if that’s okay.”

She glanced at me briefly, and once again, I could see the wheels spinning in her head. She smiled finally. “If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure. It doesn’t seem as important now as it did. Maybe I’m growing up.” I hopped up from my seat and wandered to my bedroom. Closing the door behind me, I caught my reflection in the mirror hanging on the back of it.

I pushed my hair from my face and stared. Roman had drawn a really good picture of me. Did he really see me that way? As someone so beautiful? Because I didn’t feel beautiful at all. My teeth weren’t the straightest, and my chin was crooked. Plus, I had this weird freckle on my neck. Yet in his drawing they’d seemed like positives instead of negatives. Must be the talent of the artist that does that. Anyone else could have drawn me, and it would’ve had the same effect.

I spun on my heel and walked over to my bed. On top lay the self-portrait he’d made of himself. “See?” I said. “He looks great in this image. He looks exactly like a guy I’d want to kiss and be held by. I’d go out with him.”

Funny, because it was just Roman, yet I’d thought that.

“I should think about Saturday.” I picked up the picture of Roman and tacked it to my corkboard. I then turned and dug out my new suit.

A certain tingle crawled along my limbs. It was really skimpy, but I did look great in it. Once Roger noticed me, all this indecision would leave. That’s what I needed, to be seen by someone who wasn’t Roman Avery.

I held the swim top up to my chest. “Yep, one look at this, and he’ll be all over me,” I said. That was exactly what I needed for sure.

CHAPTER 6

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

Awkward. Roman and I were two fence posts doing the tango. He’d go left; I’d go right; both of us with our hands chained to our pockets lest we touch one another.

Once again, I slipped by him into the back room. It’d been that way all morning. How I thought things would be normal after last night was a mystery. Nothing was normal. Nothing. I avoided him; he avoided me. I’d even swept the floor all the way down every aisle to avoid talking to him. Please, please, please, I begged in my head, have a customer show up.

All my begging did no good, however, so I suffered until lunch time. Then with a quick, “Be back in thirty,” I escaped. I swear I heard him exhale. I took my time, using all thirty minutes, and was relieved when he left immediately upon my return. That gave me thirty more minutes without talking to him. Thirty minutes which, in the end, weren’t long enough.

Left together with the prospect of the entire afternoon to get through, the dance began again, only this time it wasn’t the tango but the waltz, and instead of fence posts, we were crickets. Two crickets doing the waltz.

I hated the distance from him. I hated that every time I looked at him I thought about kissing him. I hated that every time he looked at me he was practically begging me to kiss him. The tension built and built until I literally exploded.

“This is ridiculous.”

He stopped what he was doing, eyebrow arched.

“If we need to be in love first, then why do I want it so bad?”

He quirked a smile, yet didn’t speak.

“I can’t get it out of my head. You, me, sucking face.”

Now, he was laughing, a belly laugh, too, one hand clutching his waist.

“It’s your lips,” I continued.

He attempted to stop. “My l-lips?” He failed. He was chuckling again.

“Heaven, help me, you have the best lips, and having them wrapped around mine is almost the most amazing thought ever.”

Wiping the tears beneath his eyes, he walked up to me, and my words fled. My tongue like wood, I could only stare.

He wasn’t laughing anymore. “I’ll make you a deal,” he said.

I think I drooled right then. He was that close to me. There was the cologne-thing getting to me again, and this magnetism we had, plus all the kissing stuff whirling around. “A d-d-deal?”

“Mmm. I’ll kiss you ... but, after this weekend.”

This weekend? I tilted my head left. Why this weekend? “What’s ... wrong with today?” I asked. “I’m here. You’re here. We both want it.”

“I want to be sure,” he said.

Be sure? How would a few more days help? It couldn’t possibly. I’d be insane by then for thinking about him. Forget Roger. How could I think about Roger with Roman in my brain?

“I have plans this weekend,” he continued, “and once I get them out of the way, I think I’ll be certain.”

“Certain? You’re not certain you want to kiss me? Wait. Do you have a date?”

This thought had just planted itself in my head. If he had a date, it’d make sense. Because then he’d see if he wanted to kiss the other girl just as much.

“You could say that,” he said.

Strange answer, so maybe it wasn’t an official-official date. Maybe it was one of those two-people-at-the-same-place things. It was none of my business. But my heart corkscrewed. He had a right to date. Yet why would he when he wanted to kiss me?

“I have plans, too,” I said.

“Good. Then you won’t spend so much time thinking about kissing me.”

True. It’d occupy my mind. I hoped.

“It’s kind of a date,” I added. I think I was making myself feel better about it.

His eyes turned sad and soft, and he glanced away. “That’s good. Then you’ll know if you really want to.”

Thump. Thump. Thump. All I could hear right then was heartbeats, but it seemed like they were his, bleeding.

“Roman, I ... I won’t change my mind.”

Why I said that was beyond me, except it seemed necessary.

“Hey,” I chased after him, and grabbing hold of his arm, turned him around. “I won’t change my mind.”

“I heard you,” he said quietly. “It’s no big deal, Coralee. We’re still friends.”

Friends. That word, which had so thrilled me days ago, now sounded pale, puny, and anemic. It was half of a relationship, a pathetic half.

“We should get back to work.” He freed himself and strolled off.

I stared at him for a good ways, my gaze taking in his familiar gait, the usual swing of his arms, the flex of his fingers. He disappeared around the end of an aisle, and I curled mine into fists.

This was pointless. I didn’t love Roman Avery, yet I wanted to kiss Roman Avery. I’d bought a swimsuit to impress Roger Keen, but all I could think of was what Roman Avery would say about it. Now, Roman Avery said he had a date, and I was actually ... actually ... jealous. It smacked me in the face.

Stupid because he had a right to see whoever he wanted, and like he’d said, we were only friends. Only? I exhaled. Only.

She couldn’t have made it more difficult. Saying she wanted to kiss him struck him funny at first, but now, not so much. Now, it was that much more fuel on the fire burning in his heart. The one that saw all his wishes and dreams about loving Coralee go up in flames. It should have the opposite effect. It should make him more confident.

She’d said she wanted to kiss him, wanted it in the worst way, so he should be all puffed up with pride, determined to last through this weekend and come in Monday morning prepared to have the best moment of his life. But he wasn’t. Instead, he was sad.

He’d lied. He didn’t have a date. He had two hours at Megan Dairy’s house where he’d feel like a fifth wheel, or a seventh wheel, or ninth. Whatever. Two hours where he’d realize he was alone, unhitched, and still in love with the ditzy girl who worked at his grandpa’s store. A girl who wanted to kiss him, but not because she loved him. Instead, because he had great lips.

There was no way in two hours he’d get over her. Two hours, two days, two weeks, he’d never get over Coralee Pirtle, but he would never have Coralee Pirtle. That would make this job impossible to do, and kissing her on Monday would make his life impossible to live. But now there was no getting out of it because he’d promised.

Unless her date, or whatever it actually was, panned out good for her. He should be happy about that. If she loved someone else, then he’d be off the hook. However, that wasn’t any better. Not one of his prospects for Monday morning was better than the other. Kissing her wasn’t better. Not kissing her wasn’t better. Working here with her as friends wasn’t better.

He didn’t want to be friends. He wanted to be ... to be ... hers. He wanted to be Coralee’s significant other, the person she called at odd hours of the day or night. The one she held hands with, dressed up for, kissed because she loved him.

He didn’t care she was erratic and reckless. He loved that about her. That she organized the shelves, but couldn’t remember to cap the ink pens was absolutely perfect. That she completely guessed on the inventory addition something he found priceless. He’d saved that form, taken it home and kept it in a drawer with his sacred things.

Nothing about her needed fixing, correcting, mending, or patching up. He loved her every mistake, every flaw, and couldn’t wait for her to make another one. She made him happy, made him laugh, and right now, made him want to roll into a ball and cry.

Get over it. Roman repeated the words in his brain. He wouldn’t cry. He wouldn’t fall apart. He’d make it through the next couple days, go to the party on Saturday, and think no further than that. Thinking had gotten him into this state; not-thinking would get him out.

Somewhere there was life beyond Coralee Pirtle. He’d simply have to concentrate hard to find it.

My plans Saturday went awry from the start. First, I overslept. Megan’s party started at eleven, and I woke up at 10:45. That was not enough time to dress and drive there. But that was only the start of things. I was made even later because Mom wanted the car. That meant someone would have to drop me off, and being dropped off at a party when you’re two months shy of nineteen is embarrassing.

Mom made it worse even than that, however. She couldn’t take me as she had to be somewhere by eleven thirty, and it was in the opposite direction. This left Spencer, and hitting up Spencer for a ride to a Saturday party took tact.

My brother and I got along great most of the time, and he’d certainly dropped me off at work enough without complaining. But he had this attitude that Saturdays were sacrosanct. Long ago, he’d hung a do-not-disturb sign on them, one he kept polished regularly. Knowing this, I gave some thought to exactly how I’d bribe him to take me. I wouldn’t even worry about getting home at this point. If I had to bum a ride, I would. Surely, somebody there would be going my way.

I finally decided to use the cute-little-sister act. Swinging in his bedroom doorway, I knocked on the frame. “Hey, Spence, I could use your help.”

He looked up from his cell phone. “No.”

Well, that failed.

“C’mon, big brother, I need a ride. Please?” Two sentences in and I was already begging. This boded well for my day.

“I have plans,” he said.

Plans to do what? Text Cindy?

“I’ll clean the bathroom next time it’s your turn.”

He barely blinked at that one.

“Including the shower.”

This made me shiver. I hated cleaning the shower. It was always covered in hair around the drain.

“Keep talking,” he said.

“And I’ll do your laundry.”

His hand shot out and he wriggled his fingers in a go-on gesture.

“For two weeks.”

“You’re getting closer.”

“Three?”

He sat up. “Three weeks of laundry, the bathroom, and the shower.”

“For three weeks?” I said. That was a lot of cleaning for one ride to Megan’s house. But the suit was burning a hole in my purse. I inhaled. “Okay.”

He stood up and gathered his keys and wallet.

“You’re a hard deal maker,” I grumbled on our way out the door.

The ride to Megan’s took only ten minutes or so, but at this point it was eleven thirty. I was a half-hour late. Her driveway was full of cars. None I recognized. I hopped out of Spencer’s car and made my way toward the front door. The sound of people laughing, music playing, and water splashing carried over the backyard fence.

My knock on the door got no response, so I decided to try the knob and let myself in. Sure enough, it was open. Stepping inside, I paused for a moment to clear my eyesight. It was dark and cool inside. And empty. My next thought was putting on my suit.

I’d been to Megan’s twice before, so I remembered the guest bathroom was to the right. Wandering down a narrow tile hallway, I found it easy enough and entered. It took me five minutes of wiggling, fastening, and tying to get the suit on. I shoved my tank top in my purse, put my shorts back on, then left the bathroom and returned through the house the way I went.

I crossed the house through a formal living area, rounding the wall toward a set of sliding glass doors. I was super excited now. I looked great. Roger would be here, and his attention would confirm all I knew about myself. Purse in hand, I pushed toward the bright sunlight glimmering off the pool in the window glass and reached out one hand for the latch.

But there I stopped cold. Unable to believe my eyes, I stared at the vision before me.

Roger and Megan? When had that happened? She looked great, too. All tanned and plucked and oiled. And he was a-mazing, washboard abs, thick black hair. But his mouth was fastened to hers and his hand was on her—

I blinked and tears formed in my eyes.

There were a dozen cars parked at Megan Dairy’s house. Tori Fitzpatrick’s small compact. He couldn’t believe it was still on the road. It’d definitely seen better days. Marti Knutsen’s SUV, complete with chrome mags.

“Still overdoing it, I see,” Roman mumbled.

Roger Keen’s truck. He’d heard Roger and Megan were dating, and that was great ... if Roger would stick with just her and not cheat. Roger always cheated, which was a shame. No girl deserved to be treated that way.

Parking along the curb, Roman exited and locked the doors behind him.

From the sound of it, the party was in full swing. He was late, but he’d planned it that way. The more he’d thought about coming here, the less important it had become. Where time with friends and social events had been desirable in high school, he had all he needed now to survive. He’d almost backed out of coming at all, except his mom saw the invite and reminded him, and there was no way he was going to share his reasons for not attending.

The front door was cracked. Evidently, they’d left it that way for late-arriving guests. Entering the foyer, he turned left toward where he remembered the pool being. The plush carpet brushing the tips of his toes, he crossed the room behind an expensive-looking couch and stepped into a large kitchen-breakfast area.

Inside the entrance, he halted. “Coralee?”

She whirled, her eyes large, and his heart slammed in his ribcage. She was ... was ... wearing ...

“You can’t go out there in that,” he said. He sprinted across the room and grasped hold of her arm. “That’s not decent.” Tugging her back from the door, he dragged her into the hall. “Here, put this on.” He shucked his shirt and draped it over her head.

Not until it’d settled around her shoulders did he notice her face. Her eyes were wet, her cheeks moist. She’d been crying.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

But she only stood there and stared back at him, her bottom lip trembling.

“Come. Sit. Talk to me.” He took hold of her hand and led her into the living room.

She crumpled on the couch, her hands pressed between her knees. “I knew you’d hate it. But I thought ...” She lifted her gaze to his face. “You didn’t tell me you were invited. You said you had a date.”

He moistened his lips, his guilt rising. “I let you think that, yeah, and it was wrong. But you also told me you had a date.”

She hung her head again. “I don’t. I wanted to fit in. I wanted to not be the girl in the strange swimming costume, for once. I wanted someone to notice me ... Did you know Roger was seeing Megan?”

Her change of thought threw him. He scratched the side of his head. “I’d heard. Why?”

She shrugged. “No reason. I was just surprised.”

Surprised. Her words slowly fit themselves together. Surprised Roger was seeing Megan, and she’d wanted to be noticed. By Roger? His nails bit into his palms. Roger Keen wasn’t good enough for Coralee. Didn’t she know that? Obviously not, she’d come here dressed in ... in ...

“Your shopping trip.” She hadn’t wanted to tell him what she bought because she’d bought that. “You bought a swimsuit,” he said.

And her head dropped that much lower.

A swimsuit to impress Roger Keen, when all along he, Roman Avery, was in love with her. What did she need Roger for? Roger was a cheat and a liar.

Roman stretched out his hand and cupped her chin. He tipped her face toward his. “I noticed,” he said.

Her forehead creased.

“I noticed the day you showed up in that shirt.” Noticed and couldn’t get it out of his head, hadn’t gotten her out of his head since. “It doesn’t take showing all that to impress me,” he continued. “I think you’re beautiful just like you are.”

“Beautiful?” She squeaked out the word. “I’m not beautiful. I’ll never be Megan, never be good enough ...” Her mouth clamped shut.

Roman lowered his hand and lifted hers, curling it into his palm. She needed to know how he felt. All this time, he’d kept it inside, thinking it was his alone, but it wasn’t. It was as much a part of her as anything else.

He focused on her face, determined not to look away. “I’m not in love with Megan,” he said. “I love Coralee, and she’s perfect to me.”

CHAPTER 7

I was struck mute by Roman’s words and the familiar look in his eyes. It was the same funny expression he’d get whenever I was too close, only it had a name now. Love. He loved me. How could I not have seen it?

Because I was too focused on myself, like always. So focused that, though the truth was staring me in the face, I didn’t see it. It was there when the store got robbed and he’d come to find me. We’d been sitting together, my head on his shoulder, and he’d refused to get up from the table saying to pretend he was okay, except I’d known he wasn’t.

It was there when he’d also drawn that picture of me. I’d looked beautiful because that’s how he saw me. Yet I’d convinced myself anyone could make me look like that. Not anyone. Roman. Only Roman. I was so stupid.

Another thought clicked into place. I’d known Roman wouldn’t like the suit, and he hadn’t. But that hadn’t stopped him from saying I was beautiful. Roman didn’t need to look at my body to call me that. He’d even refused to kiss me on the grounds we didn’t love each other, and he’d wanted to. I’d seen it on his face.

We didn’t love each other? I paused. He’d loved me then and kept it to himself because I couldn’t see what a great guy he was.

But I did see it. He was everything I’d ever want. I’d changed my behavior to be more like his. I’d fixed my hair to get his attention. I’d been upset the day he didn’t come to work, and thought about nothing but kissing him for days.

I raised a shaky hand to his cheek. The reason I couldn’t get him out of my head was so simple. It was the same one that made Roger pale in comparison. Roger Keen? I didn’t want Roger Keen. I wanted the handsome, kind, loving man in front of me.

“I love you,” I whispered. A million light bulbs flashed in my brain, and I was lost to anything in the room. “I really love you, and ... you love me.”

Our faces drew together, his lips hovering over mine, and it was like thousands of butterflies erupted between us. I tasted his breath. Felt his heart beat beneath my palm.

His cell phone ringing broke into the moment. Pulling back, he dug it from his pocket and mashed it to his ear. “Hey, Mom.” His face changed, worry lining it. “You think he’s at the shop?”

He who? Grandpa. It had to be Grandpa.

“Okay. I’ll meet you there. Yeah, I have my key.” He stood to his feet, pocketing his phone. “Grandpa’s not at home. My mom tried to call him and when he didn’t answer, she drove over. His car was gone, so she drove to the shop. The car’s outside, but it looks dark and she can’t get in. He’s not coming to the door.”

“We have to go,” I said. Grandpa had to be okay. “My things.” I reached for my purse. Then Roman’s naked chest caught my eye. “Wait, you need this.” I pulled his shirt over my head and handed it to him.

The cloth clutched in his hand, he back-pedaled. I gave a crooked smile and dug my tank top from my purse, slipping it on. Yeah, Roman Avery had noticed, and this time I understood. Turning him around, I pushed him square in the back.

“Move. We have to go.”

With that, he headed out the door.

Roman stuck his key in the shop door and glanced back at his mom. Shifting from one sandaled foot to the other, she displayed her anxiety.

“I’m sure he’s okay,” Roman said. Grandpa had to be okay. If he’d drove to the shop that meant physically he was fine.

The door lock clicked, and he swung it open.

His mom pushed past him, calling out. “Daddy? Are you here?”

An elderly voice wavered from the back room. “Sue?”

“Not Sue,” his mom said. “It’s your daughter, Ruby.”

Roman moved through the swinging doors, all but running into his mom. He slipped left.

His grandpa stood calmly in the door to his office. “Ruby? What did you come here for?”

“Grandpa, it’s Saturday,” Roman said. “We’re not open. What you’re doing here is the question.”

“Saturday?” Befuddled, Grandpa Avery rubbed one hand over his brow. “It’s Monday. Right?”

“No, Grandpa, Saturday.”

His mom walked over and took him by the arm. “Come on, Daddy. You’re confused again. Come home with me. We’ll stop and get ice cream if you like.”

His grandpa shuffled across the floor, pulling to a stop at Roman’s side. “You’ll close up?”

“I’ll close up. Me and Coralee.” Roman stuck his hand out and took hold of hers.

“Coralee,” Grandpa said. “I like that girl.” He smiled broad. He dug in his pocket and pulled out his car keys. “What about old Betsy?”

Roman took the keys from his gnarled hand. “Coralee can drive her back to your place. We’ll take care of things.”

His grandpa nodded. “Sure thought it was Monday,” he said. “Couldn’t figure out why the shop was closed. We could be making sales.” He sighed.

The swinging doors flapped against each other, his mom and grandpa leaving the room. Roman brought his free hand to his face and rubbed across it. “I hate this.”

Coralee captured it in hers. “Me too. But you’re not alone.”

He stared at her. She’d made an admission earlier, but his phone had rung before he could pursue it. “We need to talk,” he said.

She brought her arms up around his neck. “Not talk. We’ve done enough talking.”

He laughed, light. “Have we?”

“Mmmhmm. I’ve been looking at those lips longing for this moment and now all the qualifications are met.”

“And what are those?” He wrapped his arms around her.

“You love me, and I love you.”

A thrill shot through him. “Say that again.”

“I love you, Roman Avery.”

“Do you mean it?”

She made a face. “Have you ever known me to lie?”

No. Coralee didn’t lie. Well, except—

“Your mom doesn’t know about the suit,” he said.

Her cheeks flushed and she looked away for a second. “No. I did lie to her. I should tell the truth.”

He brought one hand up and brushed her cheek. “Would you? Tell the truth about it?”

She nodded. “For you, I’ll do anything. You’ve made me a better person.”

That was a funny thing to say. He tilted his head.

“From the time I started working here, all I’ve done is say I wanted to be more like you. People can count on you, and they couldn’t on me. I even wrote it all down, made a list and put it in my dresser drawer. You know, I was gonna quit after two weeks.”

“Quit?”

She sighed. “Yes. How horrible does that make me? All I wanted was enough money to buy the swimsuit, and then I was going to become a bum again.” She looked down at her feet. “I bet that upsets you.”

He tipped her chin upward. “But you didn’t quit,” he said. “You’re still here, so why would I be upset?”

“I couldn’t walk out,” she continued. “I owed you all that money, and your grandpa ... he needed me here.”

“I need you here,” Roman said.

She didn’t say anything for a minute. Then she exhaled. “I’m sorry for being so blind. I can’t believe all this time I’ve had the best man in the world right beside me and was too dumb to realize it.”

He brought his hand around behind her head, cradling it in his palm. “The best man is whoever Coralee Pirtle falls in love with.”

She smiled. “Why doesn’t that man kiss me?”

“Oh, he will, but ...”

She pursed her lips, a question written on her face.

“Maybe someone should see that swimsuit first.”

Her laughter filled the shop. Snorting, she buried her face in his chest. “I knew you weren’t perfect,” she giggled.

His own laughter mingled with hers. “No ... right now, just incredibly male.”

She separated herself and in one movement removed her tank top.

His eyes widened. “That looks ... looks ... great on you,” he said.

She wrapped her arms back around him. “That’s what the clerk said.” Hooking one hand behind his head, she dragged his mouth to hers. “Now, stop talking, and kiss me.”

EPILOGUE

“Now, Daddy, we talked about this.” Mrs. Avery faced her dad with her arms crossed. “The doctor only wants to talk to you. That’s all.”

Grandpa Avery’s face, however, was set in stone. He wouldn’t budge from the curb outside the clinic.

Roman circled the car and took his arm. “C’mon, Grandpa, I’ll go in with you.”

Grandpa Avery looked down at him. “I’m not going.”

Obviously, this wasn’t working. I exited the car, an idea brewing in my head. I walked up beside Mrs. Avery and whispered in her ear. “What did your mom call him?”

She looked at me, her eyes curious. “Avery, mostly. Why?”

I smiled. “I want to try something. We’ll see if it works.”

Stepping in front of Grandpa Avery, I put my hands on my hips. “Avery, you stubborn old coot, how many times have I told you the doctor’s your friend?”

Startled by the tone of my voice, Roman made to speak, but his mom grabbed his arm. He silenced.

Grandpa Avery was staring at me strong. “You said that,” he replied, “but he makes me feel old.”

“Old? You are old. Both of us are gettin’ up there, and that’s why you need to go in. If I have to ask you to remember to clean up after yourself one more time ...”

“I’m sorry, love,” he replied. “I try to remember, but I forget.”

I walked up beside him and took his hand. “That’s why we’re here. Think of how great it’ll be if the doctor can help you understand why you forget so much.”

“That’s true,” he said.

I tugged his arm, and he stepped out. I kept his pace, leading him toward the doors. “You should trust me, you know. It’s hard on your family when you get like this.”

He sighed. “I love them all.”

“Me too,” I said. My eyes were burning. I didn’t want to cry. But it welled up in me so powerful. I loved the Averys so much. They’d accepted me into their household, and now I spent as much time with them as I did with my own. Plus, I was crazy, crazy, crazy in love with Roman.

Roman opened the glass doors to the waiting room, and we walked inside. Mrs. Avery checked Grandpa into the clinic, and I led him to a seat.

“Now, we’re gonna sit right here,” I said. “How ’bout I read you something?”

“That’d be nice, love. Maybe that magazine with all the stories in it.”

Roman handed me the magazine in question, and I flipped it open. Selecting a humorous story, I began to read. Somewhere on page three, I felt Grandpa’s gaze on me strong. I looked up at him. “What is it?” I asked.

“Coralee? You came with me to the doctor?”

I smiled and patted his hand. “Of course, I did, and Roman, and your daughter, Ruby.”

He grinned wide. “That was so nice of you. But who’s tending the shop?” he asked.

Roman answered his question. “Dad’s there,” he said. “He had the day off.”

Grandpa nodded. “Good. He’ll handle it. But tomorrow everyone needs to be in their right places.”

“We will,” I said.

Mrs. Avery crossed to where we were sitting. “The nurse says ten minutes or so, Daddy.” She glanced at me.

I squeezed Grandpa’s hand. “We were just reading.”

“Coralee reads real nice,” Grandpa Avery said. He turned his head to Roman. “You did tell her you loved her by now. Didn’t you?”

Mrs. Avery’s lips twitched, and Roman coughed. “Yes, Grandpa. She knows.”

He nodded. “Good thing because keepin’ that a secret was getting harder and harder to do.” He looked at me then. “You did realize you love him?”

I smiled wide. “I did, and I do.”

He sat back in his chair and closed his eyes. “Wake me when the nurse calls. I hate this place. Used to tell my Sue that.”

THE END