Shoe Strings

you dinner?”
    He eyed her suspiciously and she couldn’t blame him.   He had to wonder what her motive was
when she wasn’t quite sure of it herself.   “You want to make me dinner?”
    “As a way to say thank you, yes.”
    He cocked his head, considered.   “Can you cook?”
    “Do you want dinner or not?”
    “I try to eat three squares a day.”
    “Seven okay?”   She wondered why she felt so hurt that he’d had to think about it.
    “Seven’s good.”   He hopped back in his truck thing and called over the engine, “Any idea
where the chain gang’s gone?”
    “I saw them head up past the storage shed about an hour
ago.”
    He winked, slammed the car into gear, and took off up the
steep incline, leaving Lita with a mouthful of dust and head full of
worries.   What the hell had she just
gotten herself into?
    ***
    Bryce pushed himself away from his cluttered desk and began
to pace around his office.   He’d
turned on the radio, inching the volume up every few minutes when the sound of
birds fluttering through the open windows mocked his attempts to ignore the
picture perfect day outside his office.   Misty had opened the windows, to air the place out she’d said, but the
only thing she seemed to have aired out was his brain.  
    The smell of wild onion and fresh cut grass, air alive with
budding flowers and temperatures that felt near seventy had already caused him
to shed his suit coat and tie.   He
itched to lose his button-down and spend what was left of the afternoon in his
undershirt.   It was days like today,
when the wind gently blew down from the mountains and the sprouting leaves from
the trees danced in delight, that Bryce found himself questioning his choice of
career.  
    He’d always wanted to be an attorney and he’d proved himself
worthy once again when the jury in the Barber Roofing case delivered a fair
verdict and a hefty special damages award to Mr. Freeman.   Of course, that case could’ve been
called a slam-dunk, but it still gave him a measure of pride to serve his
fellow citizens and bring a sense of justice to his sleepy hometown.   That didn’t stop him from leaning down
against the low windowsill, closing his eyes, and breathing in the scents of
spring…and remembering.  
    Memories of sneaking out of church to fish and swim in the
river with Jesse and Kerri Ann, ice cream cones shared on the town square, and
hours spent daydreaming about the future.   In all of his daydreams, every one, there was Kerri Ann.   Late March was when the basketball
finals were going strong and she’d bounce around school in her short
cheerleading skirt, taunting not only him, but every boy in school with her
tanned and toned legs.   She still
had the best pair of legs east of the Mississippi—thanks to her daily
runs.   Did she have any idea he’d
been coming into the office early for years to catch a glimpse of her as she
bounced past his window with the grace and strength of a gazelle?
    Every day thoughts of her crept into his mind, but today,
with the sun shining and the season so full of promise, he was overwhelmed by
the need he had for her.   The need
she stirred, the need he’d never quenched.   Would he ever? he wondered as he opened his eyes and watched a bluebird
fly into the crabapple tree outside his window.  
    He jerked upright in surprise at a sharp knock at his
door.   “Come in,” he called.
    When the beautiful shoe designer stepped into his office, he
thought she was just the distraction he needed on an afternoon when his
thoughts had led him down a very depressing memory lane.   “Well, Lita.   To what do I owe the surprise?”   To his genuine shock, she blushed.   Surely a woman like her was used to
attention from men.
    “I’m sorry to interrupt you at work, Bryce, but your
secretary said to come on back.   I
hope you’re not in the middle of something important.”
    “No, nothing at all.   What can I do for you?”
    She inched into the room, her dark eyes taking stock of his
office filled with mementos from school and his collection of legal books.   “Let me start by saying I’ve tried
everyplace else I can think of.”   She pulled a thick pad of what looked like drawing paper out of her
messenger bag and held it in front of her like a shield.   “I’ve been designing, a lot, and I need
to e-mail these to my business partner back in Atlanta.   It never occurred to me there wouldn’t
be a print or copy shop in the area