Well Played, стр. 17

That said, you make a good point about small towns and overprotective moms. I guess I can’t blame you there. But I can’t blame your mom either. Can you? Not that I’m taking her side, but you said it yourself: Miracle Baby. I take it you’re an only child too? That makes it worse, I’d think. With siblings you have someone else to blame shit on.

Oh, and too bad, Anastasia. You can’t give me a name that feels like music in my mouth and not expect me to revel in it. The name fits you.

I closed my laptop with a snap and pushed it away from me as though it had burned me. I sucked in a breath and it tasted like sweet relief; had I forgotten to breathe those last few moments, reading that my name felt like music? Who was this guy? How could this be the same person who hadn’t even said goodbye at the end of Faire this season?

Benedick crawled into my lap, his front feet kneading the blankets that had been warmed by the laptop. I stroked one hand down his back, over and over, absorbing his purr and letting it calm me. When I closed my eyes those words were imprinted on the backs of my eyelids . . . a name that feels like music in my mouth . . . but the more that Benedick snuggled into me and I scritched behind his ears, the easier I could breathe.

“Well,” I finally said to the cat, “I said I needed a life. Maybe that’s what’s happening now.”

•   •   •

The next morning I woke with that phrase in my head again—a name that feels like music in my mouth—and I suppressed a delicious shiver. Overnight my thoughts regarding Dex had apparently untangled themselves just fine, and I couldn’t keep a silly grin off my face as I got ready for work.

At least at work I wouldn’t be tempted to check my phone every fifteen seconds; personal cell phones weren’t allowed, so I kept mine zipped up in my bag during the day. I itched to talk to someone about this, about the incredibly hot guy who missed me, but as friendly as I was with my coworkers, I wasn’t friends with any of them on any kind of personal level. We were grab-lunch-together friends. Go-to-happy-hour friends, at most. Not dissect-every-bit-of-your-new-potential-love-life friends.

It was a slow morning, and by ten I was already perusing the deli menu, wondering if it was too soon to order lunch. The Reuben on the menu made me think of Emily; that was her favorite. She was probably the closest thing I had to a bestie, a real bestie, these days. She’d asked me to be her bridesmaid, right? So she at least saw me as more than a happy hour and Ren Faire friend. Maybe Emily would want to hear about this new development. Did a couple emails that made me tingle count as a love life worth sharing with your bestie?

I could figure that out later. But for now, when I ordered my turkey and Brie panini from the deli, I also ordered a Reuben for Emily. The deli was just down the street from the bookstore, and I could use a little girl time.

Sure enough, when I got to Read It & Weep with my bags full of sandwiches and chips, Emily was behind the counter frowning at something on her laptop. The bell over the door chimed as I opened it, and she looked up, startled, her frown melting into a smile.

“Is there a Reuben in there?”

“Of course there is.” I handed her one of the bags and she handed me a bottle of water before we settled into one of the tables at the back of the bookstore, where Emily and Chris, the owner, had carved out a little café area. Emily made a mean vanilla latte and Chris’s lemon squares were to die for, so the space was put to good use.

“What brings you by?” Emily unwrapped her sandwich with all the glee of a kid on Christmas morning; she really did love a good Reuben.

I opened my mouth to answer her but took a bite of my own sandwich instead, stalling for time. “What, I can’t just bring you a sandwich for no reason?” My voice was light, breezy. Typical—chickening out again. “Maybe I like the company.”

“Hmm.” She narrowed her eyes at me as she chewed but didn’t press further. Her eyes lit up and she reached for her bag. “You know, I was going to email you tonight. I found a couple really cool ideas for a cake that I think would—”

“Mom and I are going to join your book club.” It was rude, I knew. So rude to interrupt Emily. But wedding talk made me think of Faire, which made me think of that email last night from Dex. And as much as I wanted to spill everything, part of me wanted to keep this new side of him all to myself. So what better than a new topic entirely, pulled directly out of my ass?

“Book club?” Emily shook her head. “But you just joined a book club.”

“Yes, and that book is already depressing the hell out of me. You promised more fun books, right?”

“Well, yeah . . .” But Emily still looked skeptical. “Are you quitting April’s book club then? I think she was excited that you were joining up.”

I narrowed my eyes. “I can read two whole books in a month, you know.” How much of an airhead did she think I was?

But Emily’s expression softened, and she tsked at me. “Of course you can. I didn’t mean that. And your mom wants to join up too?”

I shrugged. “She said she did.”

“Cool. I’ll add you to the list when I go back up front. I’m sending out an email blast later this week with next month’s book selection. Third Thursday of the month, is that okay?”

“Perfect.” I had nothing going on, and Mom never went out at night