Page 37 of Beautiful Dreamer

Twenty minutes later, a parade of elementary school teachers inlively colors and patterns invaded Jill’s house, chatting a mile a minute.Devyn watched them and their unique communication strategies. Most spoke withtheir hands in a highly animated fashion. They exclaimed a lot abouteverything: The snacks they’d put out. The new chair that wasn’t there lastyear—amazing. The beautiful flowers. How surprised they were to see Jill movingso well—not quite herself yet, but she’d get there. Exclaiming happened at arather high volume, and when all of those teachers got to talking at the sametime, the decibel level was really something to behold, and then attempt toescape from.

“I’m ready for that night on the town now,” she said quietly toElizabeth, once the Bunco tournament was under way. The teachers now had a holdof the wine, so she could only imagine what was to come. The exclaiming would undoubtedlyturn exponential.

“They seem to be all set,” Elizabeth said, nodding withsatisfaction. Their job here was done. “Follow me,” she said over her shoulder.

With a final wave to Jill, it was time to slip out. Devyn followedElizabeth to the drive and paused.

“The pickup truck again?” Devyn asked, taking in the big, bluetwo-door. A little beat up, but with lots of character.

“I call her Sugar or Shug for short. Hop in. She’s friendly, butthen you already know that.”

Devyn planned to hop in but took a moment to watch Elizabeth do sofirst. Seeing her now behind the wheel of that truck…did something to her.Whatever it was, it sent an overwhelming ripple through her middle section andlower. She touched her stomach and then felt the back of her neck prickle withwarmth. She was a professional in her thirties, fully used to high-pressuresituations, and little Elizabeth Draper was taking her down? No way. Who wasshe?

“You coming or what?” Elizabeth called, waiting on Devyn andlooking really cute in her overt excitement.

Devyn pulled herself from her lust-laced reaction and smiled back.“Yeah. I was just…” She took a steadying breath, commanding her brain to cutthat the hell out. “Yep, coming.” She climbed into the truck and dug herfingernails into her palm to bring herself into the here and now and stopindulging in racy thoughts about her old high school classmate. She wonderedwhat it would be like to trace the neckline of that top with just one finger.No! She dug her fingernails in further.Getit together.Or maybe just lick that line of cleavage slowly. Sheslammed her eyes shut and inhaled slowly.

In a matter of moments, they were out of the neighborhood, themain drag of Dreamer’s Bay, in all its tiny glory, flying past. The visualdistraction helped. Fields, meadows, flowers, trees, the park, the ice creamshop, and the small cineplex that apparently now served wine and beer. “Whereare we headed?” she asked, focusing on the task.

“Stop one is the strip mall on Corner Street. Do you know it?” Elizabethflipped on the dash radio and the truck filled with the sounds of Phil Collins,to which Elizabeth promptly began singing. Loudly.

“We’re going to get back to the fact that you’re belting eightiesmusic like it’s your job in a minute.” Devyn shook her head and laughed.Elizabeth never ceased to surprise her. “Are we talking about the strip mallwith the flower shop and the bakery and what else is in there now?”

“Mr. Pitts Dry Cleaning.”

“No.”

“Oh, yes.”

“You can’t be telling the truth right now.” Devyn covered her eyesand laughed. “That’s gotta be the worst name for a dry-cleaning place I’ve everheard.”

“Or the best.” Elizabeth tapped the side of her head with herpointer finger. “Think about it.”

Devyn did briefly, until she was thinking about the fact thatElizabeth maneuvered her truck like a pro and had a very attractive profilethat showcased the subtle dimple in her right cheek. Her gaze drifted down toElizabeth’s neck. God, the skin there looked soft. Devyn would have no problemexploring how soft. A strand of dark blond hair fell across Elizabeth’sforehead and covered an eyebrow, while a light brown strand fell just short.She also smelled good, like fresh laundry and cotton pulled straight from thewash.

“Don’t you think that’s cool?”

Devyn blinked at Elizabeth’s question. She had no idea if thething was cool or not, she’d been distracted, admittedly. “Sorry. Which thing?”

Elizabeth turned the radio down. “Did you hear anything I saidjust now?”

Devyn shook her head, feeling less in control of herself than shehad in years. What was it about this town that stripped her of her hard-earnedability to walk into any situation and own it? Why wasn’t she owning itanymore? And where was her assistant when she needed her? Karen always kept heron track and focused. She deserved a raise, now that she considered it. Karenwouldn’t let her daydream about women. That’s why she had a Karen.

“I was telling you about Saturday nights at the strip mall.”

And I wasobjectifying you in a delicious daydream.Devyn hated herselfsometimes.“Sorry.Tell me again. I’m at full attention.”

Elizabeth tossed her a glance and flipped on her right turnsignal, moving them onto Corner Street. “At the end of the week, the owners ofthose businesses meet in the parking lot, play cornhole, and crack open a beeror two to celebrate the weekend. Cops look the other way. Anyone can play.Anyone is us.”

“We’re going to play cornhole in a parking lot with Mr. Pitts andthe Laurel Floral woman?”

“Among others. Yes, we are.” Elizabeth eased the truck into aparking space and turned off the ignition. “Beer’s in the back seat. I reallyhope you’re good.” She grinned proudly. “I have a reputation to protect.” Andwith that, she hopped down out of the truck and slammed the door.

“Of course she does,” Devyn said to the empty cab.

Fifteen minutes later, with a local IPA in her hand, Devyn foundherself smack in the middle of a cornhole tournament as the sun cast the skywith brilliant pinks, oranges, and reds on its descent behind the row ofbusinesses. There were five other teams of two, and a handful of spectators whojust stopped by to watch and shoot the breeze on a Saturday night. She knewmost of them from her growing-up years and accepted the waves and hugs and patson the back. Charlie Kielbasa, who owned the liquor store, stood next to her asthey did battle with beanbags and holes.

“How’s your sister getting on?” Charlie asked. He had a toothpickin his mouth and his hair was spiky, but he was otherwise a decent enoughlooking guy. He had been a couple grades ahead of Devyn in high school. Aformer football player. Maybe the kicker. Punter? What were they called? It washard to say.

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