Stormy Surrender - By Nicole Andrews Moore Page 0,23

although there was a Bojangles a mere fifteen minutes away, Joe was tempted to go eat at one in Charlotte instead. He knew that if he did, there was a decent chance that he could find one of the girls from his rotation to help him welcome in the new year. That…was the beauty of being single. He was free to sleep with whomever he chose. He could drink, if he felt like it, stay over, if he was invited, and leave when he was ready. He had no one to ask permission, no one to warn that he wouldn’t be home. Yup. Joe was his own man. And it felt good…when it didn’t feel lonely. Of course, he only felt lonely if he thought about it, or if he had a fleeting moment where he longed for more.

Sitting up on the couch, he rubbed his eyes. He had tried that. Joe had tried having more. He thought he even had found the girl to have this more with. The problem, it turned out, was that she was just a girl. She was too young. And now he hadn’t seen her in years. Three years. The same number of years he was into his ten year plan. That was no coincidence. That was what happened when he lost it all and moved home. He had taken a risk. It hadn’t paid off. He had been punished.

Standing, he walked over to the front window. On top of the dilapidated For Sale sign in the yard across the street was now a Sold magnet. Well, that cinched it. He closed the blinds and walked away. Must be Marti was moving in. The question was simply…when.

Just being in the kitchen made Marti feel better, as indicated by the satisfied sigh she released when she walked in. Keely noticed. It didn’t take her long to comment.

“Feeling better? I haven’t even poured the wine yet,” she joked as she walked over to the wine rack on the far wall of the kitchen. “What do you prefer…white or red?” She was studying the labels as she spoke.

Smiling, Marti responded, “I really don’t care the color as long as it’s sweet. What do you have that will fit that bill?” And she leaned calmly against the work table in the center of the room. Then, since she had decided to eat her sorrow and not worry about what was going on with Blaine until much later, she spoke the first thought that crossed her mind. “I don’t suppose you have any of that chocolate cake left?”

Patting her belly self-consciously and looking a bit embarrassed. “I’m afraid not,” she admitted. Then she walked briskly over to the fridge and flung the door open. “Ah, but I do have homemade cheesecake.” She pulled out the spring form pan and showed Marti the contents.

“That’s a cheesecake, all right,” Marti responded.

“And I know just the wine,” Keely said, after setting the dessert on the table. She triumphantly pulled a Moscato from the rack and walked back to the table. Glancing back and forth between the two items, she frowned. “Well, this isn’t much of a dinner. What else should we have?”

They were thick into preparing fresh grilled cheese sandwiches on more of Keely’s homemade bread when the kitchen door opened and a head peeked through. It was Joe. He smiled when Keely greeted him.

“Doll baby!” She shouted, walking over to him with her arms outstretched for a hug. “What are you doing here?”

“I thought I’d make sure the furnace was working, since I think I’m going to Charlotte for the night and I’ll probably stay over.” He was full of smiles and charm for Keely, but when he glanced over at Marti, now standing ramrod straight beside the table, his smile faltered. “I thought you said you’d be in your room,” Joe said with a scowl.

It was a force of habit that made Marti’s hands fly to her hips in a display of her displeasure. And it was also force of habit that made her respond so sharply to him. “Yeah, well I thought you were going to Bojangles.”

Keely looked back and forth between them, watching the stand off. Neither side was going to back down. That was obvious, so she simply shrugged and decided to diffuse the situation. “Joe, care to join us for dinner?”

Marti stiffened. Joe saw it and smiled. Bojangles would always be there, but the chance to irritate Marti might not. It was a simple choice. “I’d