Catching His Eye. Jo Leigh
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Cathy Turner, eh?”
“That ended after high school.”
The food arrived before she could shout “Yippee,” saving her from utter humiliation. Her salad seemed as interesting as a brown paper bag, while Scott’s burger looked amazingly delicious. She poured on a little dressing, and dug in with all the enthusiasm she could muster.
He didn’t have a girlfriend! Of course, she’d known Cathy Turner was history. Cathy had married and divorced. She and Scott had been apart for ages, and yet there was a small part of her that couldn’t help putting the two of them together.
“I never thought I’d be back here,” he said. “Not to live, I mean. I worked so damn hard to get out.”
“You don’t like Sheridan?”
“You do?”
She nodded. “It’s a wonderful town.”
“It’s in the sticks. There’s nothing here. Nothing.”
She took another bite of salad as the roller coaster that was her life shot downhill. He hated it here. Once he figured out what to do about the store, he’d be gone. And she couldn’t blame him. ESPN was an exciting job opportunity, and if that didn’t come through, there would be something else. Something glamorous, someplace exciting. The high school teacher from Sheridan would disappear from his consciousness once more, as if she’d never been there at all.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, his burger halfway to his mouth.
“Salad,” she said, wrinkling her nose. “I’m not a big fan.”
“Want some of my burger?”
“No, thanks. I’d better eat my vegetables.”
They ate in silence for a few minutes and Scott devoured his burger. What an appetite! He’d always eaten a lot, more than anyone she’d ever met, and yet he had a six-pack stomach and the best butt in five counties. Another two bites, and the burger was gone. She hadn’t put a dent in her salad.
“When did the Red Rock close?” he asked.
“About two years ago,” she said, remembering the old theater that had been such a part of her teenage years. “It just couldn’t compete with the Cineplex.”
He shook his head. “Too bad. It was a great place.”
“Things change. It’s inevitable.”
“Not all things,” he said with a smile.
“What do you mean?”
“You’re the same. The same Emily I remember. Your hair, your laugh. You haven’t changed a bit.”
“I don’t think that’s a compliment,” she said, her voice cool as a cucumber despite the fact she was screaming inside. The same hair? Oh God, he was right. She did have the same hair. And the same clothes, and the same dumpy body.
But not for long. Scott or no Scott, she was about to become the brand-new Emily Proctor.
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