The one grocery store in town was centrally located. Its parking lot was small but most people just walked over to get what they needed for the day. No one actually shopped for a week's worth of groceries in one day unless they lived further out in the county. There were only two checkout lines not counting the customer service desk. It was small but well-stocked and Justin agreed with their slogan - If we ain't got it, it ain't worth buying. To some that probably seemed cocky and he had cringed when his college friends had come down one summer and told him that his hick town bordered on white trash, but nowadays he just smiled.

It was home. Plain and simple and uncomplicated. Like him.

A stack of flyers by the door showed the week's specials and as he walked past he picked one up. He sidestepped to get around the line of carts that he had never seen anyone use and glanced through the sales flyer. With school starting the next week he wanted to get something quick and filling that would keep in the fridge or freezer for a few days. Maybe soup, he thought. Stooping to retrieve a vivid green hand basket he turned when someone called his name.

"Hey, Ella," he greeted with a grin. Heading over to the checkout line he leaned against the end. "How's business?"

"About like my love life." The older woman shrugged and ran a hand through her bleached hair. "Dead."

"Oh come on," he teased. Ella had been the cashier at the store for as long as he could remember. He knew that at some point she'd been married but what happened to her husband he never found out. "I saw you going into the Eagle with Al."

A quick laugh made her shoulders shake. "Only 'cause it was Ladies' Night." Her brown eyes softened. "You ready for Tuesday?"

"As ready as I'll ever be," Justin admitted.

"Don't worry none. Those little darlings won't traumatize you too much on the first day."

"I just hope I do a good job." That was his biggest fear: finding out that he wasn't cut out to be a teacher to small children. He had been an assistant in one of the first grade classes last year and had only visited kindergarten. And learning back in the spring that he would be teaching five year-olds had nearly thrown him into a panic.

"You will. You're really good with kids."

Justin shrugged and glanced over his shoulder when he heard the tinkling bell announcing a customer. Turning his attention back to Ella he offered a smile. "It's Ladies' Night at the Eagle, are you going?"

"If Al gets around to asking me." Her attention was diverted and Justin watched as her face lit up with a smile as the patter of little feet came rushing towards her. It was the first time he had ever seen her stoop down to hug someone. "There's my littlest darling! What are you up to today?"

"We're making soup!" came the reply from the child wrapped in Ella's arms.

"What kind?"

"Real soup! No chicken. We only make chicken when I'm sick. Right, Mommy?"

Justin turned to see the mother's answer and felt a familiar tingle when he saw Heather Lucas walking towards them. He saw exhaustion in her eyes and recognized the black t-shirt with an eagle on the chest. He hadn't paid attention to her work address or he would have known already that she worked at the bar. But when he had glanced over the papers he'd been too busy watching her walk out of the classroom.

"That's right, sweetie," she agreed.

"Can I push the buttons today, Miss Ella?" Donna requested hopefully. "Please?"

"Sure thing honey. Now go over and get a candy bar." Ella patted her back gently and Justin didn't miss the nimble fingers that slipped a folded bill into the pocket of the pink sweater the girl wore.

"But I don't have any money. Mommy says we have enough for just soup stuff."

"Look in your pocket and see," Ella whispered.

Justin hid a smile as Donna's hand plunged into the pocket of her sweater. Brown eyes widened with surprise when she pulled out the dollar and her mouth dropped open. Ella was just too much.

"Mommy! It's magic again!" Donna squealed and Justin knew from the look on Heather's face that this was a regular occurrence.

"Get something and then we can shop okay?" she requested softly. As soon as her daughter was at the candy rack she looked to Ella. "Thank you…"

"Don't thank me dear. Thank the Magic Dollar Fairy." Ella smiled again and Justin received his second surprise of the day when she leaned forward to embrace Heather. "How are things going?"

"Pretty good. She starts school Tuesday…"

"That's right. Is she excited yet?"

Heather smiled and looked at Justin for the first time. He felt that funny little tingle when their eyes met and could only manage a weak smile in greeting. "She is now that she's met her teacher."

Him. Now he could feel himself blushing.

"Who did she get?" Ella asked.

"Mr. Timberlake."

Justin felt his breath whoosh from his lungs when Ella's hand made contact with his stomach. "Why didn't you say something to me?"

"You didn't ask?" he squeaked. Rubbing at the place she had struck tenderly he struggled to breathe normally. Who knew that sweet old Ella packed such a punch? "I didn't know that you knew Donna…"

"Of course I do. Sweetest little girl to ever set foot in here. Always polite. Always sweet." Ella smiled indulgently at Heather. "Tell this boy here that he's going to be a fine teacher."

"Don't," Justin groaned with embarrassment. "Let me get through the first week without any catastrophes."

Heather smiled again and Justin forgot the pain from Ella's punch.

"I'd better get my stuff so I can make my soup. See you tonight, Ella," he told the cashier.

"Yeah, if Al calls me," she reminded him.

"I'll see you Tuesday?" Why had he made it a question? He knew that Donna wouldn't be riding the bus to school and the only other option was her mother bringing her.

"Bright and early," she answered softly. With that smile that made his stomach tingle again.

"I'm looking forward to it." He had barely taken two steps when he heard Donna's voice calling out his name. He turned just in time to keep from falling backwards at the force of her embrace. "Whoa…"

"I've missed you!" she informed him with a pout. "We walked by the school on the way here and I told Mommy that I wanted to see you but she said you weren't there and I was sad and now you're here!" She squeezed his knee affectionately. "I got a haircut! See? It's only a little shorter but Mommy told me I needed to have a big girl cut for school. And she bought me these new barrettes!"

Honestly. How could anyone not fall in love with her? Once she had released his knee he leaned down so he could admire the freshly styled hair. It was a pale blonde and if he knew about hairstyles he would probably know what it was called but to him it was just an even cut. It parted on the side and was held back with a light pink barrette and was even with her chin. "You want to know what I think, Donna?" he asked softly.

"What?" she breathed. She leaned close as though he was about to spill his darkest secrets.

"That you're going to be the prettiest girl in school next week."

She giggled and her eyes sparkled and he didn't bother fighting his grin when her hand covered her mouth. "You think I'm pretty?"

A future heartbreaker, for sure. The boys in his class better watch out. "Downright adorable."

"Grammie thinks I look like Mommy."

Justin lifted his gaze to Heather, who stood nearby. Close enough to keep an eye on her daughter but not so close she could hear what they were saying. He saw her brown eyes that sparkled when she smiled just like her daughter's. And though her hair was brown and her face fuller he could tell that Donna had gotten her looks from her. "I think your Grammie is right."

Her eyes lit up again and he was glad she took it as a compliment. She hugged him before skipping off to have Ella ring up her Hershey bar. Justin watched her for a moment. A shadow fell over him and he straightened, giving Heather a smile.

"She's a great kid," he told her honestly.

"Four going on twenty-one," she mused. "She's so excited about next week."

"I am too." A partial truth. He hadn't gotten excited until he'd seen Heather smiling at him. And the anticipation of seeing her every morning and every afternoon, however briefly, had him looking forward to the first day of school.

Heather was watching Ella and Donna and that gave him the perfect opportunity to watch her. Her hair was down. It fell in soft waves to her shoulders and he could tell that something different had been done since he'd seen her at school but couldn't put his finger on it. Then she reached up to sweep her bangs back and he remembered that she hadn't had bangs the other day. His gaze was drawn to the thin gold chain around her neck and rested on the heart-shaped locket. He knew he was staring at her but couldn't care less. The black jeans and t-shirt accentuated her curves and her stance told him that she was comfortable with her body. A ring of keys dangled from one finger and a crumpled piece of paper peeked from the front pocket of her jeans.

Her hand fell to her side and he looked at her fingers. The nails were clean of polish, and her ring finger showed no signs of ever having seen a wedding band. His mind went to the missing father and he wondered what had happened to have pushed him out of the picture.

"You work at the Eagle?" he asked after a moment of silence. Donna was perched on the counter, slowly punching buttons on the cash register.

"Six nights a week," she informed with a smile.

"I went to school with Jim." Why he found that necessary information was a mystery. "I drop in when I can. I don't remember seeing you…" Great. Now he sounded like some creep trying to pick her up. Not that it was a bad idea… No. She didn't give off the vibe of being interested for a quick romp.

"He said the same thing when I told him you were Donna's teacher." She glanced at him. "And he swears that you've come in while I was working. You must be a quiet drinker."

Was she flirting with him? "I just have a few beers at the bar now and then." He preferred to watch sports at home. Where he could cuss out players and coaches and referees without worrying about who would overhear him.

"I'm just a lowly waitress. I've never worked the bar." She smiled again. Her smile did strange things to him.

"Next time I drop by I'll have to take a table."

"Hopefully you're a big tipper."

That was definitely flirting. "Depends on the service."

"It's always the best down at the Eagle," she drawled in a perfect imitation of the radio spots he'd heard for the bar. His eyes locked on the way her lips moved to form the words.

She had to be a good kisser. "Then I'm a big tipper."

"If I see you I'll make sure you sit at one of my tables, then."

"Do you work tonight?" he blurted.

"Six till two." She looked towards her daughter, who was walking over with her chocolate in a bag.

"I might drop in." It wouldn't be difficult. He would just tell Trace that instead of staying in and playing poker he wanted to go out.

Yeah. Because he went out often.

"I might look forward to it," she returned easily. Then, with a smile and a wave, she picked up a hand basket and headed away. Donna waved goodbye before falling into step beside her.

- - -

"I just don't feel like playing cards, that's all."

"We've had this game lined up for three weeks and suddenly you don't feel like playing cards?"

Justin shouldered his phone and rolled his eyes at Trace's tone. "We played poker last week."

"Penny ante bullshit," Trace grumbled. "What about the pizzas?"

They hadn't even been ordered. Why was Trace turning this into such a big deal? "We can still get pizza. Look…" he sighed and pulled out a knife to begin peeling the onions. "How about we go get a few drinks then have the game?"

"I don't get it though. Does Jim have some stripper appearing tonight?"

Justin closed his eyes as he sliced the end off the first onion. "No…"

"Does he have some hot singer coming or something?"

"No…"

"Did he hire a new waitress and you've got a hard-on for her?"

Justin cursed vividly when his knife sliced dangerously close to his fingertips. "What the hell--"

"Who is she?" Trace demanded.

"Who?"

"The babe you're all fired up to go see."

"I'm not fired up--" Justin cut off when he heard his friend's knowing chuckle. Grumbling under his breath he began to peel away the outer skin of the onion. "You are such an asshole."

"Seriously. Who is she? I thought your mind was full of crayons and finger-painting and the ABCs…"

Justin sighed and blinked rapidly to rid his eyes of the sudden burning sensation. "My mind is full of crayons and finger-painting and the ABCs."

"And this mystery babe," Trace added. "What happened to not having time for a relationship? What happened to wanting to finish getting your degree and climbing up the ladder of educational success?"

Justin fervently wished Trace didn't have such a good memory. He even remembered things that were told to him when he was too drunk to speak. "Nothing's happened to that. It's still true."

"Then why are you so antsy about her?"

"I'm not antsy." He wiped his eyes on the sleeve of his t-shirt and began to chip the onion.

"You're jumpier than a virgin at a prison riot."

Justin snorted back a laugh at the mental image the words conjured up. "Am not," he finally muttered.

"Okay, okay. I'll come out to the Eagle with you and watch you drool over whoever this new obsession is."

"You're such a pal."

"I'll even buy the first round."

"Stop, dude. You're going to make me think you like me or something."

"Can't stand the sight of you," Trace sighed. "I'll tell Jen that you're dragging me to the bar. And if she gets pissed it's all your fault."

Justin didn't think that Jen, Trace's wife of two years and so pregnant she spent the majority of her time propped up on the couch, would care too much that Trace was going to the bar. "I'll make it up to her. Buy the kid a basketball or something."

"Call when you're heading out."

- - -

"Is that her?" Trace hissed under his breath. For the tenth time Justin lurched at the feel of a foot against his shin and muttered his tenth curse.

He glanced across at the woman stepping into the bar. "You dumbass. That's Christie."

"When did she get so good looking?" Trace wondered, scratching his chin.

"When you weren't looking," Justin answered with a sigh. It was after six and Heather still hadn't come in. He'd toyed with asking Jim if she was sick but didn't want the owner to start teasing him. It was bad enough coming from Trace.

"When did her tits get so big?" Trace questioned as she sauntered past. She gave Justin a flirty smile before tugging her tank top down.

"When her ex-husband bought her implants. Don't you remember that?"

"No…"

"Her and what's-his-face went on their honeymoon for over a month and when she came back she was as big as Pam Anderson…" Justin trailed. Surely Trace would remember.

"Wait. When did she get married?"

"Three years ago I think. Then he left her six months later."

"Is she the one who got caught doing Jerry Tomlinson two hours before his wedding?"

"And Tina threw her into the cake…"

"And one of her implants busted and she had to get it fixed!" Trace announced. "Now I remember!"

"Took you long enough," Justin muttered. He lifted his beer for another sip and slyly glanced at the clock.

"Sorry. That's when me and Jen first hooked up. I was too interested in her tits to be interested in anybody else's."

"So now you're interested in another woman's chest?"

"Good God no. She'd kill me." Trace gave a curt nod and drained the rest of his beer.

"Never mind that she's the love of your life and about to make you a father. You just don't check other women out because she'd kill you." Justin shook his head in wonder at his friend's logic. He knew that if he were married - hell, even dating - he wouldn't think of looking at another woman. You were with the one you were with and that was it.

"Well, duh, she's the love of my life. But dude, you've got to understand. She fucking tries to trick me. Like last week when I took her to the doctor for her checkup. The nurse took her blood pressure and shit and as soon as she left the room Jen turns to me and goes 'Do you think she has a nice ass?'" Trace mimicked his wife's voice to perfection. "That was a no-win situation. If I said yes, that would imply that I was checking her out and that I'm an asshole. If I said no, I would have been an asshole because I wasn't paying attention to what was going on."

"What did you say?" Justin asked out of morbid curiosity.

"That Jen's ass is the only ass I'm interested in."

"Was that the right answer?"

"I guess so. She gave me head when we got home." Trace grinned. "And she woke me up in the middle of the night for sex--"

"Say no more," Justin pleaded with a groan. The last thing he wanted to hear was what type of sexual position his best friend had discovered.

"I'm telling you, man. You need to get a woman and get her pregnant. Because the past six months have been the best sex ever."

"…Jen is nine months pregnant, Trace."

"First three didn't count because all she did was puke her brains out. Once that cleared up, though…"

"I'm telling her that you go around talking about what great sex she gives now."

Trace grinned again. "Go ahead. She already knows."

"You are such a fucking asshole--"

"Can I get you guys anything else?"

The tingle that he had been waiting for hit him full-force. Turning in his chair he looked up and saw Heather. The first thing he noticed was that she was smiling; next he saw that her hair was pulled up with a clip. Soft touches of makeup brought out her eyes and her full lips. He quickly lifted his beer to drain it. Wiping his mouth clean he gave her a smile. "I'll have another, thanks."

"Me too," Trace put in.

"The service here was getting kind of crappy," Justin said as she reached to take their empty bottles. Her eyes met his and he knew she caught the teasing in his voice when she smiled again.

"I'll be sure and tell Jim that you weren't happy."

"I wasn't."

"And now?" she pressed gently. Her fingers tapped the longneck bottle she held and Justin loathed himself for the carnal thoughts that leapt to mind.

"The night's looking up," he answered softly.

"Good. I'll be right back with your drinks."

Justin didn't realize he was staring until Trace's foot met his shin again. Even that didn't tear his eyes from the gentle sway of Heather's hips and the delicious way the dangling ties of her apron tapped her backside with each step. When she disappeared into the room behind the bar he turned around in his seat.

"That her?"

"Hmm?"

"The waitress. Is she the hot babe that has you all fired up?"

"Her name is Heather. Heather Lucas," Justin supplied.

"How did you meet her?"

Justin hesitated. He couldn't very well come out and admit that she was the parent of one of his students, could he? "I met her at school last week," he hedged.

"Her sister a teacher or something? I don't remember seeing her around town before… Where's she from?"

"Virginia." Justin purposefully neglected to answer the first question.

"No kidding. How'd she end up here?"

"Um…"

He was relieved when Trace's cell phone began to chirp. Saved from answering he shifted his chair slightly so he could watch the bar. She was there, laughing at something Jim was saying as she popped the tops off two bottles of beer. He noticed that she didn't bother with a tray, easily clutching the necks between her fingers and slipping past customers to reach his table.

"You need anything else? Sarah's putting in a batch of wings," she offered.

Jim's girlfriend made the best hot wings in town. Justin found himself nodding. "Ask her for extra sauce."

"Sure thing. Just holler if you need anything before I get back." Again Justin shifted to watch her return to the bar.

"Go ahead and holler, Justin," Trace suggested once he had put his phone away.

"Why?" Justin looked at the table in confusion. Their beers hadn't been touched. The tray of peanuts and pretzels was still full.

"You need to get rid of that hard-on."

Justin dropped his eyes to his lap. Seeing that his friend was telling the truth he snatched up his beer. "Keep the fuck out of it."

- - -

He was halfway to his truck when he remembered that he had left his cell phone on the bar. Trace had left hours ago, finally giving up on the idea of a poker game. So Justin had hung around, sipping beers and watching tipsy couples attempting to dance. And talking to Heather… He grinned at the thought and turned to go back inside.

She was sweeping the floor when he walked through the door. The TVs had been turned off and the jukebox no longer belted Patsy Cline. He glanced towards the bar and saw his cell phone where he had left it. It had been in his hand when he'd paid off his tab and somehow between putting his change away and assuring Heather that he wasn't too drunk to drive home he'd forgotten it.

Okay. So he'd made sure to leave it there and then stood out front talking for fifteen minutes until he was sure that everyone else had left. Was that so wrong?

Nope, he decided when she turned and saw him. She smiled and this time he expected the tingle. The broom was leaned against the nearest table and she walked over to greet him. As though he hadn't just left.

"How far did you get before you knew you'd left it?" she inquired, nodding towards the bar.

"Not far." If ten feet from the door counted…

"It started ringing five minutes after you left. I turned it off," she explained. Sweeping it off the bar she held it out. "Didn't want all of your girlfriends to kill the battery."

Girlfriends? He scoffed at the idea that he even had one. "Not likely."

"Fiancé?"

He shook his head. "No girlfriends. No fiancé. No friend-with-benefits."

"Too bad," she murmured. He thought he saw a flash of sadness in her eyes but it was gone just as quickly.

He pretended he hadn't heard her. "What?"

Heather nervously fiddled with the leather case of his phone. "That's sad," she finally said. His eyebrows rose when she moved forward and had he been holding anything when she took his hand in hers he would have dropped it. For one brief second he thought she was about to drag him to her.

He would have obliged. Gladly. He would have held her close and known that when he looked down she would have looked up. And he wouldn't have hesitated to kiss her. To see if her lips were as soft and warm as they looked. To find out if she tasted like the sweet vanilla that he smelled whenever she was near. He would have been more than happy to lean her against the bar and press against her. And he wouldn't have cared that the door was still open because he would have been too busy discovering the secrets under her clothes.

But she just held his hand and placed his phone in his palm.

Access denied.

Her hand stayed against his long enough. Long enough for him to see the questions in her eyes. Long enough for him to slip his phone to his other hand and slide his fingers around her wrist.

He heard her soft gasp and waited for her to pull away. But she didn't. She simply looked up at him, her lips still parted. Beneath his fingers he felt her pulse quicken.

"What are you doing?" she whispered.

"Touching you."

"I know that. Why?"

"Because I like the way you feel." It was true. Her skin felt like the finest velvet.

"Oh." Her tongue traced her lips and she slowly closed her mouth. His gaze dropped and he saw her chest heave.

Damn. "You want me to stop?"

"No. Yes. I mean…" She swallowed and met his eyes again. "I like it."

"So do I," he admitted.

She had moved closer. Or maybe he had. All he was aware of was the way her brown eyes shifted into a warm caramel and the brush of her breasts against his arm. The fact that her forehead was a mere inch from his lips…

"Heather," he whispered. God, all he had to do was dip slightly and then he could taste her. "Heather, I--"

"You almost finished that sweeping?" Jim's voice suddenly called from the room behind the bar. Justin hissed a curse at the swiftness with which Heather slipped away from him and knew he looked a fool when he slumped against the bar.

"Probably another minute or two," she called back. Justin noticed that her voice was an octave higher. He turned to look at her and wanted to whine. She was grabbing the broom. Her cheeks were flushed. Her hands shook and he was certain she had wanted a kiss as much as he.

"I'm--"

"Don't apologize," she whispered. "Please, don't."

"Okay…" He watched the quick, jerky motions she made with the broom and decided not to tell her that she was spreading the pile she had previously created. "Heather?"

"Yeah?"

"Can I call you?"