Page 22 of Catching Sparks

“Think you’re too good for a small-town bar, Garrison?” Brody calls over the boom of the giant metal door hitting the concrete.

I meet his stare across the shop, keeping my emotions well hidden. He doesn’t need to know how downright exhausted I am nor how every day I spend away from Toronto has my anxiety growing tenfold. Nathan has started ignoring my incessant phone calls, informing me that he’ll give me weekly updates on the company as opposed to the daily ones I’ve been demanding. He’s going to pay for that decision once I’m back, that’s for sure.

I’m tense enough I’d crack down the middle like an egg if someone slapped my chest hard enough.

“Me? I’d never think such a thing,” I reply coolly.

He actually smiles at that. “If you want to join, we’re heading over at six. The Beavertails game is on, and my woman wants to watch.”

I inwardly wince. Sports have never been my forte. Not when I was a child, and especially not now. I don’t remember the last time I had a moment to sit down and attempt to watch a sports game.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake. Don’t tell me you’re not a hockey fan,” Johnny pleads. “I’m really trying to vouch for you here, man.”

“Would you prefer I lie, then?”

Brody unclips his filthy overalls and shimmies them off. “Shit, I knew you were a stick in the mud, but damn. Not even hockey?”

“Not even hockey,” I confirm.

Johnny blows a raspberry. “Damn.”

I lean the broom against the wall, my shoulders curved, my typical perfect posture slacking. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

“I’m gonna be brutally honest here, Garry,” Brody starts, and I mentally prepare myself for his next words. “You look like you could use a drink. And maybe some decent company.”

Oh. “And I suppose you’re referring to yourselves as said decent company?”

“Us and a few others. If you can keep from tearin’ everyone a new asshole for a night, that is.”

I hate that one simple sentence has my interest blazing. Poppy hasn’t been around the ranch since Monday. I’ve been looking for her every time I leave the house and slide into the piece-of-shit truck I’ve been forced to drive. The soft scent of her perfume is long gone, no match for the dust and dirt that’s been rubbed so deep into the seats that it puffs up in clouds when I sit.

“Who else will be there?” I ask before I can stop myself. The casual tone of my voice hides my genuine curiosity. Or so I hope.

“The typical crew,” Brody answers.

Johnny doesn’t bother with the same secrecy as Brody. “Us, Caleb, and the girls. Darren, too, if he’s not on call.”

It’s not worth the effort to tell him that I don’t know who those people are. The only thing I focus on is the girls part. More specifically, the odds that Poppy is included in that grouping.

“Does that look mean you’re in?” Johnny asks, sounding far too excited to spend time with me, considering how little I’ve allowed us to get to know one another.

I glance at Brody, fixing my posture. “You said six?”

“Yeah. Gives us enough time to clean up first. Anna’d kick my ass if I tried takin’ her out lookin’ like this.” He lifts his hands to show off the black stains all over them.

My nod is stiff. “Alright.”

Brody double blinks, his shock so obvious I’d be offended by it had I not understood it. “We’ll swing by the guest house to pick you up on our way. That work?”

“Yes.”

“Hell yeah!” Johnny shouts, moving toward me at a too-quick pace.

I’m unprepared for the slap he lays between my shoulder blades. I stumble forward a step, my eyes flaring wide. Brody howls a laugh at my reaction.

“Oh, boy, is this goin’ to be fun,” he says, grinning wide.

The conviction in his tone is enough to have me worried.

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