Page 14 of The Backtrack
“Probably not the best place to wear heels,” he eventually said. “But you managed to not spill the beer, which is impressive.”
She wordlessly slipped off her shoes and walked barefoot past him, trying to muster the confidence she’d come in with, and failing.
The space was dotted with teak chairs surrounding firepits, creamy white sand and two beach volleyball nets. There was also a small stage pressed against one side of the wooden fence, where a live band was doing a mic check. Damon nodded to a server who quickly cleared off a high-top table for them.
“Is it nice being the boss?” Sam asked as she settled onto a stool. “I don’t think I’ve ever nodded at someone and had them read my mind.”
“It’s not as glamorous as it looks. Half the time, when I nod, I just have to go and explain what I want. What kind of raw deal is that?”
“Good help is so hard to find.” Sam looked away and took a sip from her beer. Maybe it was being near Damon, or the heat, but the drinkwasgrowing on her. Though she still felt a little stiff, like she wasn’t totally sure how to act around him.
“Cheers.” Damon raised his glass and she raised hers. “To you finally coming home.”
Hisfinallycould’ve meant nothing or everything, and she wasn’t sure if he was holding on to some hostility, or just trying to be friendly. Still, their glasses clinked, and she took a quick sip. Damon tilted his beer bottle toward his mouth, and she watched as his lips wrapped around the glass.
“Farrah will be sad she missed you. She doesn’t work Fridays. She has kids, or something like that.”
Sam gave a half smile, then kicked her toes in the sand and sent a shower of the stuff toward Damon. His mouth opened in shock, but then he kicked some sand back at her.
“What was that for?” he asked.
“Farrah was way cooler than us. I doubt she’d even remember me.”
“She’d never forget you.”
Heat spread across Sam’s chest. Not because Farrah remembered her, but the way Damon had phrased it.
“I’m impressed.” She waved the beer bottle to the space around them. “When you said you owned a brewery, I didn’t realize the whole town knew about it, too.”
“It’s notallme. Sundays are seafood boil night, and there’s a Fall Out Boy cover band.” Damon pointed to the stage, but Sam practically gasped.
“Oh, no,” Sam said. “That means we’re old enough to have cover bands of our favorite people.”
He gave her a side smile and, as he did, the unmistakable rumble of an overhead plane engine broke through. Sam spotted a fighter jet, likely on its way to training, and a little part of her calmed at the familiar hum from the sky.
“I used to hear planes, look up and wonder if it was you flying them,” Damon said.
Sam was not blushing exactly, but knowing that Damon thought of her in those moments was a bit of a boost. “You could’ve messaged me to ask.”
Damon bit his lower lip, as if holding something back. Then he said, “But could I have called?”
Sam burst out laughing at the same time a pocket-size woman wearing hospital scrubs hugged Damon from behind. He turned and his expression changed into something altogether warm. Her sneakers had a streak of gold glitter on each side, her hair was long and dark and parted down the middle without any evidence of frizz, and her cheekbones were so high you could safely rest a latte on one. Then she got on her tiptoes, fluttered her wildly thick lashes and kissed him on the lips, and he kissed her back, and Sam blinked as she watched in confusion. Whowasthis person?
“I didn’t know you’d be here tonight,” Damon said as they broke apart.
“I got off early.” The woman’s eyebrows rose expectantly as she turned to Sam.
Eventually, Damon turned to Sam, too, and said, “Sam, this is Marissa. She was a grade above us in high school.”
“Marissa?” Well, of course the guy riding a motorcycle who had those attractive veiny forearms and owned a wildly successful brewery had a Marissa. Why wouldn’t Damon have a cute little hamster to kiss? Only, he’d gone and put his hand on the small of Sam’s back. “Marissa,” she said again, but much quieter and almost to herself.
And then, the Polly Pocket chimed back with, “That’s me!”
5
Sam’s thoughts whirred like the engine of one of her massive planes. Damon had a girlfriend. His arm was wrapped around her, and Marissa glowed the way only someone truly adored could. Sam should be happy for him; sheshould.
“It’s fantastic to see you!” Marissa said enthusiastically with no hint of unease. And when she extricated herself from Damon and went to hug Sam, her face awkwardly fell in between Sam’s breasts. Even sitting, their height difference was substantial. But Sam’s nose was just above her head, and the woman smelled like fresh soap and mint in a way that was energizing.
