as his chess friends stumbled over themselves charmingly in their welcome of Jodie. Karl Hanover, a quiet man who sat over behind Harry, sent a quiet thumbs-up.
“You guys settle down, you’re going to have to have your pacemakers reset,” Harry Trumbull, the man at the table, said as he looked up at Jodie, as if taking her measure.
“You play?” Harry asked Jodie.
“Uh, no. Dan tried to teach me, but it never stuck,” she said apologetically.
“Well, watch and learn, then. Dan, come on, we wondered where you were, boy.” Harry, the oldest of the group and the winner of the last match, beckoned him to sit.
“Sorry. Things got crazy over at Jodie’s bakery,” he explained, taking his seat.
Jodie had a plethora of seats to choose, and stood looking bemused for a second, but he turned and grabbed her hand.
“Here, guys. She’s sitting with me. My good-luck charm,” he said, squeezing her hand.
Someone slapped him on the back and Harry sighed heavily. “Can we play now, lover boy?”
Dan grinned and nodded, and the timer was set.
For several rounds, he nearly forgot Jodie was sitting next to him, watching quietly. Except for her scent, which hit him every time a breeze came off the water, and the way her hand brushed his thigh when she moved.
Soon, however, Harry beat him in two rounds, and then Jerry beat him. Dan won a few after that, but he knew his focus wasn’t where it normally was.
The guys knew it, too. They played ruthlessly and with delicious intent as they took him on, one by one. In the end, a round of drinks for the rest—their weekly stakes for whoever lost the most games—was on Dan’s tab.
“They’re a bunch of sweeties,” Jodie said, standing at the bar of a local pub with Dan, sipping at a double shot of expensive Scotch, watching the guys argue about chess strategies. “I’m surprised, though. I never imagined you losing at anything.”
Dan balanced several bottles of beer between his fingers and had Jody grab his own Scotch from the bar as they made their way back to the group. “Are you kidding me? You kill me at gin every time we play.”
“I mean smart games. I would have thought you’d be a chess champion or something. Harry’s a hoot. He loved beating you.”
“He beats me most of the time. He invited me into the group, and he knows my moves.”
“Not the ones I know, I bet,” she said, grinning and winking at him as they walked back.
“No, I imagine not,” he agreed, pausing midway to the table. “But I’m not foolproof, Jodie, and I think you’d know that more than anyone. I botch plenty of things and, to be honest, one of the reasons I’m glad you accepted my invitation to the reception is because I absolutely hate delivering papers. I have never liked public speaking. No matter how much I do it,” he said with a shudder.
“I didn’t know that,” she said in surprise. “Hmm.”
“What?”
“I don’t know. Just surprised, that’s all.”
“I know it’s hard for you to accept that I’m not perfect. I get that a lot, actually.” He tried to say it in complete seriousness but could barely repress the grin.
She moaned. “Puh-leese.”
“There are so many things I guess we still don’t know about each other, even after all this time,” she said, shaking her head.
Dan grinned, loving how she fit in with his group. He enjoyed her friends, too.
Maybe they didn’t know everything about each other, but they knew what was important.
10
JODIE HUMMED HAPPILY as she baked, feeling light and positive as she worked. Life was good. Business was good. Things with Dan were very good.
The trouble with the bakery had more or less blown over. There had been no big disruptions and business was buzzing along as always. They had lost a few customers, and she’d had to arm wrestle the local organization who listed her bakery as a stop on their local food tours into not dropping them, but overall, things were settling down.
There was an ongoing back and forth on the editorial pages in the paper where local people made some scathing and unfounded judgments, but then there were people who spoke up for the bakery, too. It was encouraging, and they had even picked up some new business.
Overall, Jason’s plan had backfired, she thought with satisfaction, sliding a tray of cookies into the oven. They had taken a few lumps, but it was turning out okay.
Checking the clock, she frowned. Ginger was late