Page 47 of Pursued

“You didn’t have to do that but thank you. Let me change then we’ll go check on Joan.”

I grab a change of clothes and lock myself in the bathroom. Shedding my clothes, I toss them in the shower along with the wet towel and use the one hanging on the hook to dry myself. Tugging a T-shirt over my head, I stop when I see the dragon tail on my shoulder. Memories of sitting in a chair for hours, listening to the humming of the tattoo gun, while shooting the shit with Enzo hit me at different times. Sometimes when I catch myself in the mirror like this or when I’m working and look at my hands or arms. Each design is a reminder of my life either before or during my undercover work. The only thing combining those versions of me.

Brushing off the thoughts, I exit the bathroom and return to find Sophia sitting on the porch floor. My footsteps catch her attention and she turns to face me.

“You need chairs or something out here.”

She isn’t wrong. “I’ll let Bruce know. Are you ready to go?”

Still trying to wrap my brain around what almost happened, I motion for Sophia to follow me and open the passenger side of the truck. As she lifts her leg inside the cab, she turns to look at me over her shoulder.

With a smile she says, “I’m not pretending we didn’t have a moment. I just can’t process that right now.”

“I’m sorr—”

“Eh. Don’t you dare apologize. I just need to let things marinate in my head for a bit. Okay?”

She doesn’t wait for me to respond, climbs into the seat, and pulls on her seatbelt. Following her lead, I say nothing more and round the truck and slide behind the wheel. Music fills the void of conversation as I drive to The Bluebird.

I do my best to push down my anxiousness as we pull up in front of Sophia’s temporary home. The mess looks much like that at the cabin except there isn’t a downed tree. There’s what looks to be the top of a tall pine but nothing that would do much damage.

Joan is on the porch sweeping when we climb the stairs. “Oh my goodness. Did you get caught in the storm?”

Sophia looks back at me with a smile and then says to Joan, “A little. I’m going to change and will be right back.”

She scurries off, leaving me with a smiling Joan. It isn’t just any smile. It looks a little sinister. Not that I think Joan has an evil bone in her body, but then again, you really never know what someone is capable of.

“Did you kids have fun?”

“Kids? Joan you’re like twenty years older than I am, not fifty.”

“Oh shut up. You hungry? I was about to make a sandwich.”

Joan doesn’t wait for me to answer but leans the broom against the house and walks through the screen door. When I’m settled at the island, she pours a glass of tea and pulls supplies from the refrigerator. An array of meats and cheeses are placed in front of me along with three different kinds of bread and more condiments than you would see at a sandwich shop.

“You have quite the spread here,” I comment after stealing a slice of pepper jack cheese.

“Nothing beats a good sandwich. Not some boring ham and American cheese on white bread either. Layers of meat and cheese with the perfect amount of a mixture of spreads is what I’m talking about.”

I sip on my tea while she continues to regale me with all the ins and outs of good sandwich making. It’s a little reminiscent of that scene inForrest Gumpabout shrimp. By the time Joan is demonstrating how to properly balance the mayo and horseradish combination for the roast beef sandwich she’s making, I hear footsteps padding across the wood floors.

Sophia slides onto the stool next to me, smelling like the tropics. Wafts of coconut and citrus hit my senses as I turn to look at her. “Yay! Sandwiches. Joan makes the best sandwiches. I’ll never be able to order one from a shop again.”

Joan laughs and slides the roast beef sandwich she was making in front of Sophia with a pickle on the side. I must look crestfallen watching the plate slide to my left instead of in front of me because Joan says, “Yours is next. Same kind or do you want me to surprise you?”

“Your call,” I reply.

“Sorry that took so long. I had to shower. I smelled like a wet dog,” Sophia says before taking the first bite from her sandwich. Her delicious sandwich. I know it’s delicious from her soft moan.

“I can confidently say you did not smell like a wet dog. I probably should have showered too.”

A plate appears in front of me. Unlike Sophia’s single layer sandwich, mine looks to be more of a club with an extra piece of bread in the middle and cut into fourths. Once Joan has her own plate and is settled to my right, we all dig into our meal. Full of flavor and the perfect meat to cheese ratio, this is by far the best sandwich I’ve ever had.

I eat like a man who has been starved and finish before the ladies. Taking my plate, I rinse it off at the sink before putting it in the dishwasher. I begin cleaning up the fixings and return them to the refrigerator. When I’m finished, I turn back to the island and catch Sophia watching me. Her eyes fly to mine as her cheeks tint pink.

“Joan, what can I do outside to help you?”

“Oh Gage, you don’t have to worry. I’ve been taking care of this place for years. I’ll get around to moving the limbs.”

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