I decided not to respond.
But my heart was still beating fast, warming up my entire body.
“I love you, doll, but I need to quit thinking about this and get back to work,” I said.
She nodded. “I hear you. But did you hear me?”
I nodded.
She gave me a gentle smile and stood, but she leaned into a hand on my desk and did it holding my eyes with her warm brown ones.
“Just to finish up, I was wrong about something else. You got your hands on a stray, baby girl. Lost and alone, maybe cast aside, definitely done wrong. And you’re Izzy Forrester. No one better at taking the stray out of the stray and giving them home. And also, Scarlett wanted Ashley. He went for Melanie. And Melanie was the finest being in that book. Even Rhett adored Melanie. Scarlett gets all the attention because the woman is the diva to end all divas. But there ain’t nothing wrong with being Melanie. Far from it. She was just as strong as Scarlett but a whole lot quieter about it, which is strength in itself. Johnny isn’t Ashley but I’m thinking he isn’t Rhett either. I’m thinking that Johnny Gamble is realizing that and because of it he’s realizing Scarlett wasn’t the one for him. He’s thinking he’s all about Melanie.”
“You need to stop it,” I told her quietly.
“So I will.” She grinned, pushing away from my desk. “Just to say, I’m also thinking this is going to be fun.” She kept grinning as she shook her head. “Don’t worry, I still got my eyes on you and I’m always here. This is still going to be fun.”
“Not from where I’m sitting,” I muttered.
“Then, Izzy, start paying attention.”
With that, she sashayed out of my office.
I watched until she disappeared.
Then, stupidly, I dropped my eyes to my phone and lifted my hand to it.
Leaving it sitting on my desk, I engaged it.
And I went to Johnny’s text screen.
I scrolled up and started reading.
You too. Johnny from weeks ago.
You home okay? Johnny from last night.
Yes, Johnny, thanks. And thanks for dinner. Me, because Johnny and Dave got in a minor fight but definitely the word “fight” was apropos about who would pay. Although I went so far as to get my wallet out, they didn’t even acknowledge I’d done that, ignoring me so completely I had no choice but to put it back in my purse without having a chance to utter a word.
This fight had unsurprisingly been sorted when Margot waded in, stating, “Split it, boys. That way, David, you’re taking care of me and Johnny’s got Izzy.”
Johnny’s got Izzy.
They agreed immediately.
God, I hated it when Deanna got things straight.
No problem, babe. Going to the festival? Johnny texted.
Yes. My first big thing as a resident of Matlock, I replied. Then, drunk on an evening spent with Johnny and two people he cared about who cared about him, at the same time disconcerted about it and not thinking straight thus being an idiot, I added, Though I’ve been before with Deanna and Charlie.
It’s a blast but go early and get out early. Out of towners come in the afternoon and traffic is a bitch.
Thanks for the advice. Are you home?
Yup.
How? You had farther to drive than me.
I followed you, Iz. You need to take driving lessons from Margot. Dave calls her AJ Foyt. You drive like you’re behind the wheel of a Buick and just celebrated your ninth decade on this earth.
I laughed at his joke, wandering my house, letting the dogs out, checking the cats, covering the birds, getting ready for bed, through it all phone held in hand like a lifeline, texting Johnny Gamble.
Not surprised Margot drives like an Indy car driver, I’d shared.
He’s being nice. It’s more like demolition derby. Her car is in my shop more than any in three counties and not because she’s big on keeping her oil clean.
That made me laugh again.
Right, you got work tomorrow so I’ll let you go. Dogs in? He’d asked.
That made my belly flip-flop and I answered, Getting them now.
Lock up tight after you. Windows too, baby.
Baby.
I’d missed that.
Two breakfasts, two dinners (now three) and the little there was of the rest and I’d missed him.
A lot.
Now I was getting more of him.
A lot more.
And liking it.
Too much.
I will, Johnny, I’d replied. Sleep well.
And he’d ended it the way it had ended before.
But this time it didn’t seem an end at all.
You too.
I stared at the screen of my phone, scrolling up and down idly with my finger, reading and rereading, so lost in it, I let a small smile spread on my face and I nearly jumped out of my chair when the phone I was staring at rang.
The screen changed from the text string with Johnny to announce Johnny was calling.
Oh God, what did I do?
My mind didn’t know.
But before it rang twice, my hand decided it did and it snatched up the phone, took the call and put it to my ear.
“Hey,” I greeted.
“Hey, got a sec?” he asked.
I didn’t. I’d barely gotten any work done that day.
“Sure,” I answered.
“Got a friend who has a horse. He and his family are going on vacation and the person who used to look after him has left town. He’s way out there, about a forty-minute drive away or I’d look after him. I noticed you got a couple of open stables. Wondered if you’d be cool stabling his horse. Not more work for you, Iz. I’ll come and deal with him.”
I sat staring at all the work on my desk I should be doing but wasn’t since I was talking to Johnny, and I did this thinking of Johnny coming out to my house every day to take care of a horse.
This was a good thought.
“So?” he prompted when I said nothing. “Will Serengeti be able to handle company?”
“I . . . well, I’ve got to take care of Serengeti and Amaretto anyway so you don’t have to—”
“While Mist is there, I’ll deal with Serengeti and Amaretto too.”
He’d take care of my horses too.
“Johnny—”
“You’d help him out. He’s in a bind. Everyone he can find is charging a shit ton. He’d pay you, bring his own feed, make sure you’re covered for hay and time. But I’d deal with the rest.”
My mouth made up my mind for me. “I don’t think that would be a problem.”
“Fantastic, sp?tzchen, I’ll tell him.”
“Sp?tzchen?”
“What?”
“You called me sp?tzchen.”
Johnny made no reply.
My heart convulsed.
Whatever that meant, he’d called her that too.
“Okay, whatever. Just let me know when—” I began.
“My granddad called my grandmother that. She was German. He met her over there when he was in the service. Married her there.”
“That’s sweet,” I forced out.
“She used endearments too. She called me h?schen,” he went on with sharing.
“That’s . . . sweet?” It was a question this time because I didn’t know what that word meant.
He chuckled. “It means little hare. She called my brother m?uschen. That means little mouse.”
“Yes, sweet,” I murmured.
“Sp?tzchen means little sparrow and no, she never got that,” he stated bluntly, reading my thoughts, and my breath arrested. “Iz?” he called when I concentrated on forcing myself to breathe.