Romeo Fails Read Free

finally meet.”
    As she performed the introductions, Dorsey stole another look at Sarah’s face. Yep, no doubt about it—she was definitely the girl from that night by the lake last summer. Their meeting had been all too short, but certainly memorable. Every moment of it, in fact, was etched in Dorsey’s brain.
    “Nice to meet you,” Dorsey said, briefly clasping Sarah’s cool hand.
    “Likewise,” was the reply.
    The city girl’s smile was cool and impersonal too. She gave no sign that she recognized Dorsey who felt a hot flush of embarrassment and chagrin starting at the base of her neck. Should she say something? Or just forget about it—Sarah obviously had. And to think of all the times Dorsey had dreamed of the Goddess since that night. She had replayed their time together over and over in her mind. Thought of her touch, of touching her. Of what might have been…
    Things clearly were not going the way Maggie had envisioned. Puzzled by their stilted exchange, she said to them, “Well, you two chat for a moment, okay? I’m just going to run to the little girls’ room.”
    Setting her basket down, she hurried off to the tiny restroom by the office in the back of the store. Dorsey’s brother had declared it off limits to customers, but Maggie was practically family. And besides, Good wasn’t there at the moment. The silence was getting awkward, Dorsey felt. Say something! she ordered herself. And of course could not think of a single thing to say. Sarah still held a can of spray paint in her hand. Her slender, pale fingers wore no rings, Dorsey noticed.
    “Did you have a question about the paint?” Dorsey finally asked her, deciding on the professional approach. She could play it cool too and hide behind the facade of customer service.
    Sarah glanced blankly at the can in her hand. Her dorky spectacles were long gone, along with the gawky child she no longer resembled. She now wore a small fashionable pair of thin black frames with clear rectangular lenses. Cute, Dorsey thought, then caught herself. Don’t go there, she warned herself—she doesn’t even remember you. But she couldn’t keep from automatically registering a few aspects of the other woman’s appearance—the same things she’d found so compelling at the festival: the cute glasses, that promising gleam in the eye, the soft black hair in a delicately spiky cut and the deceptively slim body beneath the jeans and jacket. Not the type of face you’d see on a magazine cover, maybe, but an attractive, intelligent face nonetheless. A nice face.
    My type of face, Dorsey thought with an inner sigh. And what a body…
    Sarah’s eyes met hers for a moment, then flicked back to the can of paint in her hand.
    “Oh, yeah, the paint,” she said, her voice low and a little husky, just like Dorsey had remembered it. She felt the tiniest jolt in her stomach at the alluring sound of that voice. Sarah hesitated, darting a glance over Dorsey’s shoulder where Maggie had gone. “Oh, hell,” she said suddenly and decisively, startling Dorsey.
    “What?”
    “Are we alone?” Sarah asked in an undertone.
    “Well, yeah, until Maggie comes back.”
    “Look,” Sarah said, then paused, staring deep into Dorsey’s eyes, seemingly trying to gauge her reaction. She then went on in a rush, her words tumbling out. “I’m sorry. I owe you an apology. And a shirt too, I guess.”
    Dorsey felt a warm rush deep in the heart of her. She remembers! She remembers! She couldn’t help but smile at Sarah, eliciting a small smile back.
    “I still have yours,” Dorsey told her. Not adding that she’d been sleeping in the soft festival tank top ever since that night. Sleeping… and dreaming.
    “Look,” Sarah said again, speaking rapidly and urgently while taking a step closer. To Dorsey’s delight, she reached out to touch her bare arm. “I’m really sorry about that night and about just now, but I’m not out to Maggie or anyone else in the family here. Do you