Doing It Over (A Most Likely to Novel Book 1) (9 page)

Margie pointed to a face on the page. “Do you know who this is?”

The image didn’t strike any memories.

“I think he was only around the last year. Perry something . . . what was his last name?” Zoe squeezed her eyes as if activating her brain. “Anders . . . no, Anderson.”

“Oh, that’s right. Yeah, shy guy with great hair.” Melanie wondered if the kid had managed to keep it.

Margie pointed to a few more alumni before gathering what she needed and walking away.

“Just as annoying as an adult as she was a kid,” Zoe quietly said under her breath.

“People don’t change.”

“I did.”

Melanie narrowed her eyes. “No. You were always wicked smart and determined to be more than what this town thought you were. You may have changed your living conditions and lifestyle, but you’re still Zoe.” She pointed to the open yearbook. “You’re still this girl.”

Zoe shook her head, her eyes darkened. “That’s a prison man’s daughter who lives in a double-wide on the wrong side of town. I’m no longer her.”

The blood in Melanie’s face drained and her lips slacked open.

With a shake of her head, Zoe mumbled something about using the bathroom and scrambled off, leaving Melanie staring after her.

Where had that come from?

Melanie started after her when Luke cut Zoe off at the door to the gym. Even from a distance, she noticed Luke’s expression sharpen. It wasn’t long before he put his arm around Zoe’s shoulders and led her from the noisy gym. The sight of them reminded her of how much she envied their relationship in high school. How much she wanted a love like that. It wasn’t a surprise she’d fallen into Nathan’s hands so easily. It was as if without the wise guidance from her true friends, she’d been vulnerable for the taking.

She meandered out of the gym and onto the field. A few joggers were taking advantage of the fair weather and running the track. In the center of the field, the football team was running drills. Up in the stands were a gaggle of cackling girls staring at the small screens of their cell phones.

Not a lot had changed in ten years. The faces were different, the dynamics . . . not so much.

The pole vault pit sat in the southwest corner of the field. A tarp covered the mass of foam and cushion that kept the vaulters from hurting themselves when they landed after their jumps. The standards framed the pit but the poles and crossbars were put away in a locked shed.

Memories of her first jump, how uncoordinated she’d felt, surfaced. It took three months before she actually landed a decent vault. It had only been five feet, but God it felt good. She remembered the senior vaulters all cheering. Zoe had given a thumbs-up, and Jo told her to aim higher or join high jump.

She aimed higher.

“Can’t help yourself, can you?”

Melanie jumped and turned.

“You like sneaking up on people, Coach?”

Wyatt stood behind her with a smile. A sexy smile that warmed her.

“I didn’t sneak, you weren’t paying attention.”

Yeah, right . . . she sat on the pit and couldn’t help but bounce. The condition of the pit had deteriorated over the past decade. “Do you vault?” she asked him.

“I never got the hang of the turn. Luckily, coaching doesn’t require me to break anything. Did you vault in college?”

She shook her head. “I didn’t see the point. I wasn’t good enough for the Olympics and no one was offering me a full scholarship.”

“You cleared eleven two. That’s brag worthy.”

Melanie caught his eyes. “You looked up my record?”

He lifted both hands in the air. “Guilty.”

“Checking out a potential coach?”

He shrugged his shoulders and said, “No. Just checking
you
out.”

It took a second for his words to register and Melanie felt her cheeks warm.

He started to laugh. “You’re easy to fluster, Miss Bartlett.”

“I’m not flustered,” she denied and removed her butt from the pit. She offered him her back and put her cool hands to her cheeks.

I’m so flustered.

You’d think no one ever flirted with her.

Or maybe those who did held little interest for her.

Truth was, she may have aged ten years, but she was relatively clueless when it came to the world of men.

Instead of admitting anything, she moved over to the giant shipping container that held all the pole vault equipment. She slid her hand between two containers and fished her fingers in the dark. She was about to give up when she found the small magnetic box she searched for.

The hide-a-key had a faded image of Hello Kitty.

While Wyatt watched she popped open the small box and removed a senior secret.

The lock hadn’t changed.

“I wondered where they hid that thing,” Wyatt said as he stood back and watched.

“You didn’t learn it from me.” She placed the key back where she found it and stepped into the dusty container. The space in front of the poles had evidence of use, but the far reaches of the container, the place where it wasn’t uncommon for the team to hang out on a rainy day, had lost its luster. Cobwebs occupied the space and a forgotten, faded jersey and pair of shoes filled the corners. When Melanie had been in school, it wasn’t unusual that a summer evening took place here with a game of spin the bottle along with shots provided by Jo and her hidden stash of liquor.

Instead of simmering on the high school memories, Melanie removed a pole from the tube and sighed.

“You still have it.”

“They’re expensive. Until they break or crack, we don’t get rid of them.”

She wedged the pole against the bottom of the shed and leaned into it. Where she once bent the pole with ease, she could already tell she’d lost the upper body strength to use the thing.

“You wanna try?” Wyatt asked.

“Vaulting?”

“Since breaking and entering has been mastered . . .”

Melanie shook her head with a roll of her eyes. “I know the sheriff. And besides, she had the key made.”

Wyatt offered a dimpled smile. “I’m learning new things every day with you in town.” He moved away from the container and over to the pit. “They say it’s like riding a bike.”

“They do not!”

“They do.”

She planted the pole into the box and attempted to bend it again. “Who are
they
anyway?”

“Life’s cheerleaders.”

Melanie cringed. “Fake smiles and pom-poms . . . what do
they
know?”

“Don’t be hating.”

She took a few steps back and lifted the eleven-foot pole before letting the end come down with a bounce. “I’m not hating. Just not a fan.”

“Yet you were on the squad.”

She offered a glance over her shoulder, found his eyes snapping up from his gaze lingering on her butt. “Checking me out again?”

It was his turn to be flustered.

“Yes . . . no . . . I mean. Your friend Margie told me you were on the squad.”

“Nice change of subject. And Margie is an old acquaintance, not a friend. Not to mention the reason I stopped cheer.”

“Oh?”

“It was high school. Boyfriends were passed around and feelings were hurt. I’m sure it hasn’t changed.” Her eyes drifted to the stands where she assumed the current cheerleading team sat watching their football-playing boyfriends.

“So she broke the girl code.”

Melanie leaned on the pole and smiled. “I ended up here and she had her heart stomped on. I won.”

“These reunions always drag up old drama. There is seldom a year that goes by that there isn’t some kind of fight.”

“Really?”

“Not a fistfight . . . well, I’ve seen one of those, but catfights are entertaining.”

“That’s stupid. We’re adults now.”

“I’m just reporting the facts as I’ve seen them. It seems River Bend has a few unsolved dramas that need to be worked out.”

Wyatt sat on the edge of the pit and leaned against his jean-clad thighs.

“What about you? Did you have any drama when you went to your reunion?”

“It isn’t until next year. I’ll let you know.”

She knew it, he was younger. “Are you going to go?”

“Haven’t decided. I might.” He nodded toward the pit. “Now, are you going to jump on the pole or just fondle it all day?”

She glanced at her hands gripping the tape.

Wyatt laughed.

“I’m not going to get flustered,” she muttered.

“Too late.”

Yeah, it was too late. She returned to the shed and lifted the pole back into its home. The fit was tight and she gave it a good shove. Wyatt had moved beside her and placed his hand next to hers to push it in. For a man living in Oregon, he sure had a nice tan. Well, what she could see of it in any event. “I understand if you’re too scared to try.”

“I’m not scared . . .”

“If you say so.”

She rolled her eyes and pushed past him to close the heavy doors. “You’re a bully,” she told him.

He took the lock from her hands, the heat of them shot up her arms.

“I usually get what I want,” he said without shame.

“Like a bully.”

“Like a coach,” he countered.

He reached around her, not giving her much room to move away, and clicked the lock in place.

“I can move,” she told him.

He was close enough to smell the rich pine of his skin.

“But I like you right here.”

Oh, yeah . . . she enjoyed it, too, but she wasn’t about to tell him so. “Like a coach?”

He shook his head. “Like a man.”

There she was, all flustered and not moving away. “I think you like making me blush.”

“Guilty.” His voice had dropped and his eyes lingered on her lips.

Every cell inside her shivered.

She swayed a little closer, gripped the side of the shed to keep from being pulled into his gravity. “I have a kid,” she blurted out.

“I know. We’ve met.” He lifted a hand and brushed a lock of her hair away from her face.

“You’re younger than me.”

He offered a laugh. “Cougar material.”

It was her turn to grin. “I wouldn’t go that far.”

Wyatt left his hand on the side of her face and forced her to meet his gaze. “Do you always talk when a man is about to kiss you?”

Great, she hadn’t missed the signals.

God, he was going to kiss her. Was she ready for that?

“I talk when I’m nervous.”

“I make you nervous?”

“You zap my brain cells.” She hadn’t meant to say that.

“A talent I didn’t know I had.” He moved closer.

She stiffened. “I don’t know if I’m ready for this.”

He stopped moving, ran his thumb along her lower lip.

Melanie’s knees did that wobbly thing that only happened when her world tilted. Wyatt was doing a great job of tilting her world. Her eyes drifted to her feet.

“Melanie?”

She met his gaze again.

“I’m a patient man.”

Instead of the kiss he spoke of, he eased back, letting the moment pass.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

A look of confusion marred his brow. Suddenly, apologizing felt like the w
rong thing to do.

“Don’t be.”

“I’m sorry . . . damn it.” She hadn’t meant to say it again. “It’s just. I’m in a weird place right now. I want to.” She placed a hand on his arm. “You need to know I want to.”

“Melanie?” He placed a finger over her lips. “I get it.”

“You do?” she asked through his finger. How did he get it when she didn’t? It had been a long time since she so much as seriously flirted with the opposite sex.

“I do.” His hand dropped.

“So I can have a rain check?”

He was grinning again.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Wyatt had no real need to go to the reunion. It wasn’t his graduating class and he hadn’t been coaching when the alumni had frequented the halls of River Bend High. Still, there wasn’t a snowball’s chance in hell that he was going to miss it.

That surprised him.

Flustering Melanie Bartlett and getting close enough to smell her innocence intrigued him more than he wanted. After walking away from the track the day before, he had cautioned himself. His original intentions were flighty. A little dalliance with a woman who was only visiting home. Yet when Miss Gina had told him she was going to stay on, he found himself slowing his pursuit down. No reason to rush if she wasn’t going anywhere. Since when had he wanted to hook up with someone local? One with a kid, no less.

Melanie blew off like a hesitant volcano sputtering smoke before the top exploded. She came with a suitcase full of baggage that included a kid. A cute kid, but a kid nonetheless. At least there wasn’t an ex in the picture.

Wyatt liked her.

His usual pursuits were attractive and available. Call him shallow, but he wasn’t one for romance. Truth was, he hadn’t dated in the real sense since he’d moved to River Bend. He’d flirted, and a few of the single women had that look in their eye that told him they were interested, but he wasn’t. He was building a life in River Bend, and screwing around with the half a dozen single, attractive, and age appropriate women wasn’t a part of that life. Not when the fallout could mean never-ending drama. Breaking up with the daughter of the bingo night emcee could remove job opportunities for months, if not years.

So why was Melanie different? And why was he breaking his own code? Was it a code, or just smart?

Didn’t matter, he told himself. He fastened the last button on his dress shirt and skipped the tie. Unlike his father, Wyatt wasn’t a tie kind of guy. He owned one, but it was probably holding a bundle of PVC pipes together on his truck.

The high school gym bumped with the sound of the DJ’s music from a decade past. The lights were dimmed, much like a high school dance. The difference was the temporary bar set up in the corner and the lack of grinding moves that the teens of today called dancing. People gathered in clusters. From the outside, it was easy to pick out who were alumni of the school and who were the bystanding significant others obligated to escort the River Bend graduates.

A tap on his shoulder brought his attention to Luke. “I was wondering if you’d show up,” Luke said over the music.

Wyatt shrugged. “Not a lot of nightlife in this town.”

“Nightlife? I don’t think that’s the reason you’re here.”

“Oh?”

Luke glanced around the growing crowd before returning his attention to Wyatt. “How about a beer?”

Wyatt followed him to the bar.

Principal Mason leaned on the wall next to the bar. “Hello, Richard,” Wyatt greeted him with a handshake.

“Evening, boys.”

“Standing guard over the bar?” Luke asked.

Richard ran a hand over his bald head with a cocky grin. “Making sure a few of these good ol’ boys buy me a drink. Some of them put me through hell. You included, Miller. You ditched school more than you showed up.”

“I passed my classes.”

“By a hair.” Richard winked and nodded toward the bartender. “Jack and Coke, Miller. Make it a double.”

Luke narrowed his eyes and bought the principal a drink.

The three of them watched the crowd for a few minutes. “Does this get old for you?” Wyatt asked Richard.

“Not at all. It’s like watching a good game you have money on.”

“How so?”

Richard scanned the room. “A handful of the teachers and I lay bets at the end of every year gauging who will leave town, who will stay. Then after the reunion, we wager on who is coming back.”

The principal glanced between the two of them and said, “Don’t judge. Vegas is a long ways from here. Take you, Luke. None of us pegged you for leaving.”

Wyatt laughed at the expression on Luke’s face.

“I’m not sure how to take that.”

“You worked with your dad. Loved cars . . . you didn’t have to leave to find yourself.” Richard nodded toward the mass in the gym. “Lots of them did. Some are still searching. Some have been gone long enough to know they want what they had when they lived here, and some know a small town simply isn’t big enough for them.”

While Luke appeared to contemplate Richard’s words, Wyatt asked, “Is there anyone here you lost money on?”

“Sure. JoAnne was a shock. I pegged her as a
leave and never come back
girl.”

“I don’t think she had much of a choice,” Luke said.

“Everyone has a choice.”

Wyatt scanned the crowd, his eyes finally finding the reason he was there.

She was wearing a little black dress, the kind that hugged a woman’s curves and made a man’s mouth water. From the heads she turned, his wasn’t the only mouth watering. Zoe was dressed in red that offset her olive skin and drew a whistle from the man at his side. Beside the two was the third of the female musketeers. Jo skipped the dress and wore slacks. Still, she was more dressed up than Wyatt had ever seen her. If he had to guess, her friends insisted on the outfit. Still, the woman walked like a cop, her eyes darting around the room in constant motion.

“Looks like our sheriff found her posse.” Richard lifted the drink to his lips, smiled over the glass.

Wyatt felt Melanie’s eyes and met them. She unleashed a slow smile that illuminated the room. When Wyatt lifted his beer in salute, she nodded and pointed to Zoe and Jo.

“I think that means you’re buying the ladies drinks, Wyatt.”

He reached for his wallet and nudged Luke. “Next round is on you.”

A couple of minutes later the two of them wiggled through the crowd, double fisted with drinks.

“Why thank you.” Melanie offered a wink. “How did you know?”

Luke leaned in. “Subtle, Mel . . . real subtle.”

“We wouldn’t want the wrong men buying us drinks this early in the evening,” Zoe said.

Jo laughed. “I don’t usually have that problem.”

“You have got to come visit me in Dallas. And leave your badge behind. The men will line up to pinch your ass and buy you drinks.”

Jo rolled her eyes. “I’d probably put them in a choke hold and cuff them.”

“They might like that,” Wyatt added.

When their laughter slowed so did the music, and Wyatt moved in. “So, Melanie . . . about that dance you owe me.”

She blinked a few times, a blush rose on her cheeks. “What dance?”

“My fee for rescuing little girls off rooftops.”

Wyatt took the liberty of removing the beer from her hand and setting it on the high-top table before leading her away.

The curve of her hip met his hand as he faced her on the dance floor. They swayed a few times before she spoke. “Smooth, Wyatt. Using my kid to score a dance.”

He turned her around and noticed Jo watching from the sidelines. “I could have used my roadside rescue skills as an excuse.”

“You could have just asked.”

“You could have said no.” He liked his deck stacked, thank you very much.

“I could have said yes.”

He leaned back slightly and looked in her eyes. Her smiling eyes.

“You could have.” He turned her again, happy to feel her follow his lead. “Now that you know I won’t trample your feet, you’re much more likely to agree to future dances.”

She kept her eyes on his. “Is that confidence or cockiness?”

“Both. I can dance, no need to pretend I can’t.”

“Not that you get a lot of practice in River Bend.”

Wyatt turned her again, this time moving her away with a push and spinning her once before bringing her back. “You’d be surprised. Fourth of July is always a celebration. Founder’s Day. Every holiday has some kind of festival . . . or have you forgotten?”

He kept her moving while they talked. He scented lemon on her skin and committed it to memory.

“And how many women in River Bend have you shown your talents to?” she asked.

“My talents?”

She blushed. “Dancing talents?” She pushed against his shoulder. “I already know you don’t date the women in town.”

“Is that right? How would you know that?”

When she glanced over his shoulder, he pulled her closer. The sheer fabric of her dress nothing but a thin layer between them. He had to give serious thought to their conversation.

“Jo told me.”

“Oh, so you’re asking your friends about me?”

“Of course. You’re hitting on me. I have to make sure you’re really not Jack the Ripper.”

“Not a lot of prostitutes in River Bend. I’d be out of business if my name was Jack.”

He took pleasure in making Melanie laugh.

The song ended, along with their dance. His hand held the small of her back as they made their way off the dance floor.

No sooner had he wrapped his hand around his beer when Zoe grabbed his arm. “So, Wyatt . . . about that dance you owe me.”

“What dance?” He heard Melanie’s words coming from his mouth.

“This one.” Zoe dragged him away from their group. The music had turned fast, but Zoe pushed close enough to talk. “Melanie is one of my best friends,” Zoe stated the obvious.

Wyatt felt the inquisition beginning and let it roll. “You seem tight.”

“We are. But I have to tell ya, I kick myself all the time for not telling her what a shit her ex was.”

“You met him?”

“Once. Between that and Mel’s stories . . . he’s a shit.”

They moved beside each other, not touching, and not keeping beat with the music.

“Well—”

Zoe didn’t give him time to talk.

“I won’t do it again. If I see any red flags, I’m going to speak up.”

“I’m sure—”

“She’s sensitive.” Zoe kept looking over his shoulder.

“I—”

“And vulnerable.”

Instead of trying to comment, Wyatt nodded.

“I think she needs this reset, and hooking up with a guy who only wants to use her and toss her away again is going to screw her up.”

Wyatt stopped dancing and Zoe’s eyes met his. On some level he knew Zoe was just looking out for her friend, but she’d all but accused him of being an asshole.

“Oh, jeez, I’m being a bitch, aren’t I?”

He knew better than to answer that.

“I’m sorry . . . it’s just, I’m leaving in a couple of days and won’t be here to kick your ass if you screw her up.”

“Kick my ass?” He felt his lips lifting despite the conversation.

“I’m tougher than I look,” she said in defense.

Wyatt glanced over his shoulder and caught eyes watching them. Then he moved a little closer to Zoe and said in her ear, “Melanie’s stronger than she looks, too. Give the woman a little more credit.”

Instead of continuing to move on the dance floor, Wyatt led Zoe away by her elbow.

This time, she leaned in and whispered, “I will come back and kick it if I have to.”

“That shit is funny right there!” Luke stood with his hands on his hips, a wide grin over his face.

Zoe held her stomach, laughing hard.

Melanie bit her bottom lip as giggles kept erupting without her control. Every time she glanced toward the hot steam coming off Jo’s face, her laughter was harder to hold back.

Morning fog blanketed the mess as the sun started a slow rise on the horizon.

As the tired houses of River Bend woke, so did the crowd surrounding Jo’s home.

Squeaky brakes stopped a car and a whistle preceded the obvious comment. “That’s quite a mess you have there, Sheriff.”

Before Mel turned around to see who was talking, a half-used roll of toilet paper gave up its battle of hanging from a high branch of the maple tree and fell to the ground.

Zoe lost it once again and Jo grumbled.

Sheets of white toilet paper draped over every possible surface of Jo’s house. The masters of TPing a house had placed rolls on the end of a broom and used it to fling tissue forty feet up into the pine and maple trees. Even Jo’s squad car didn’t go unscathed.

The voice from the car started to laugh.

Jo twisted and pointed. “I’m sure you have better things to do than sit here and laugh, Deputy.”

Mel glanced at Deputy Emery, who leaned out the window of his squad car.

“Should I write up a report?” Deputy Emery asked, laughing.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Jo was ticked, but a slight amount of admiration sat behind her eyes.

Melanie exchanged glances with Zoe and Jo with a slight nod. The three of them had done their fair share of TPing as kids and couldn’t help but admire the balls of those who decked the town sheriff’s house in Charmin.

Zoe lifted the forgotten broom and nudged a piece of paper off a rosebush. “Does this happen to you a lot, Jo?”

“No one would dare.”

“Well someone dared. Probably several someones. I didn’t hear a peep all night,” Zoe said.

From the wetness of the paper, the blanketing of white happened early in the morning. The three of them had returned from the reunion and crashed at Jo’s house close to one in the morning. It was just rounding on five thirty when Mel forced herself out of bed so she could help Miss Gina and get back to Hope. One glance out the front door had Melanie calling for Jo.