Page 18 of Play the Field

“Plus,” Cat continued, her charming smile leaking onto her cheeks, “You aren’t afraid to call me on my bullshit. And I really need that now.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Can you handle that?”

It was hard to believe she could. Toward the end of our relationship, Cat had become quite averse to critique. Andif– it was a big if – I was going to help her, she’d have to take the notes I gave her on the chin.

“Yes.” Cat struggled through the word.

But I knew her well enough to know she wouldn’t say it if she wasn’t sure. Cat was many things, but a liar wasn’t one of them.

Looking into her green eyes, I swallowed hard. They were stunning, even now in the dim light of my bookstore. I wantedto believe I could handle this. I wanted to trust myself to help an old friend and not fall for an old lover.

Butgod, her face was gorgeous and she’d only gotten more charming with age.

“I don’t know.” I managed.

With a nod, Cat sighed. “That’s not a no.”

Biting my lip, I checked the time. “Book club starts soon. I’ll think about it, okay?”

“Sure.” She tapped her fingers against the counter, taking another look around the shop. “You’ve done a really great job with this place. I hope you’re proud of it.”

My chest tightened at the words. I had no idea how badly I needed it. As she turned to walk away, I watched her.

Over her shoulder, Cat looked back at me. “You still have my number?”

“I deleted it,” I confessed with a smirk.

The corners of Cat’s mouth turned up into a smile. “You still have it memorized.”

It wasn’t a question, more a statement of fact. And she was right, I did. I’d repeated it to myself for decades, knowing that if the day ever came I’d want to have it. Even if it was smarter for me to keep her as far away as possible.

I watched her leave the shop, the ding of the doorbell announcing her departure. But as she left, she brushed into an older woman heading inside. Daryl was just arriving for book club, looking confused as all hell to seetheCat Collins walking out.

As she approached the counter, her salt and pepper hair messy from a windy drive, Daryl scoffed. “What in the fuck is a pro softball player doing at Cleo’s Shelf?”

Watching Cat cross the street, her head hanging low, I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Looking for a book on ancient history.”

Daryl tilted her head, not entirely sure what I meant.

“We used to date, long before I was hosting book club.” Coming out from the counter, I started grabbing the wood folding chairs from the supply closet near the checkout.

Raising an eyebrow, Daryl grabbed a chair and started unfolding it. “So what is she trying to dig up?”

For a moment, I hesitated. Daryl was sort of new to my life – at least relative to how long I’d known Cat. But she’d become a close friend and seemed to be an expert in finding love later in life. Maybe she had some wisdom to share.

“You heard about her career?” I bit the inside of my cheek.

With a nod, Daryl scoffed. “Every lesbian on this side of the Atlantic has heard about it.”

I couldn’t stop myself from laughing, next to the WNBA, sapphics loved softball and Cat was an out and proud queer woman. She’d accrued quite a fan base over the years, something I’d watched from a safe distance.

“We used to play together, in high school and a bit in college.”

“While you dated?” Daryl shook her head, already knowing the answer.

Shrugging, I set out the last chair, completing our circle. “Yep. She’s back in town, wanting to get her shit right. And she wants me to help train her back to health.”

“Yikes.” Daryl walked around the circle and made sure each chair made a perfect circle. Putting her hands on her hips, she looked around the usually brewed coffee.

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