Page 74 of Penalty Kick

“I am confused,” Dash said, stopping in the middle of the crowded sidewalk. His sudden halt caused Talia to stumble a bit, catching herself before she did anything too embarrassing. “Is this a bookstore or a bar?”

“Yes,” she answered, a knowing smile tugging at her lips.

Turning to face the storefront, Talia let her eyes roam over the large plate glass windows and the rolling shelves of books just outside them. It looked exactly the same as it had when she’d left Arizona nine months ago, making her heart happy. Why, she didn’t quite know. But something inside her was at peace knowing that it was still here and that at least this hadn’t changed in her absence.

“Yes, it is a bar? Or yes, it is a bookstore?” Dash asked, rephrasing his question, the look on his face making it clear he thought she didn’t understand the question.

“Yes,” she answered again, laughing at just how confused he was. “Welcome to the Book Bar! It’s a bar inside a bookstore. Or, a bookstore inside a bar. Depends on whom you ask.”

Talia watched Dash as he stood there in amazement, trying to process what she had just told him. It was almost as if she could see the wheels turning in his head. His expression was a mix of “only in America” and “what the fuck.” Biting back a laugh, she couldn’t help but wonder what his reaction must have been when he first arrived in the US. He must have been absolutely awestruck.

Grabbing his hand, she led him inside, pausing for a moment just inside the door and inhaling deeply. There was something about the unique smell of beer and inked pages mixed that made Talia feel simultaneously calm and alive. It was tough to describe, something she’d never been able to put into words, but deep down she knew that Dash would understand.

“Was this your favorite place to hang out?” Dash asked, as they started to wander down one of the aisles.

“Kinda. I used to come a bunch when I was at ASU, but when I moved back to Prescott, which is like two hours north of here, I didn’t make it down as much. But some friends and I would try to make it down when we could,” she told him.

“Did I miss that you love to read? I do not believe I have ever seen you with a book in hand.”

“I enjoy it, but I’m not one of those people who carries around a book wherever they go. We discovered this place one weekend my freshman year. My roommate at ASU, Lynn, is a reader, always has a book in her purse, even when we went to dinner, etc. So when she heard there was a bar that was also a bookstore, she dragged us all here, joking about how here no one would make fun of her for reading while having a beer.” Talia laughed at the memory. “Granted, we were underage at the time, so there was no actual beer drinking, at least not here, but we had a good laugh about it.”

“So this is a happy memory place for you.”

“It is,” she sighed, thankful that he understood. “I loved the vibe of the place the moment we walked in. Everyone was welcome—whether it was the group of guys playing Dungeons and Dragons at the big table in the corner, or the pair of older ladies knitting at the bar while sipping on their drinks, or the gaggle of college girls who stumbled in and giggled as they opened romance novels and read the sexy bits out loud to each other. We were that last group, in case you couldn’t guess.”

“That is something I could imagine Maria doing,” Dash shared. “The giggling with her friends part, not the reading sexy books. She is too young for that.”

“You say that, but I’m sure she’s discovered romance novels.”

“Oh, Dios mío, I hope not,” Dash muttered, making a quick sign of the cross across his front.

Tears pricked at the corner of Talia’s eyes, threatening to break through. She loved how much he cared for Maria, and how her well-being was such a priority in his life. Part of her wanted to let him in on the secret that there was such a genre as young adult romance, that was written to be age appropriate for Maria, but she liked the idea of letting him sweat a little.

“Sophomore year my mom came down for parents’ weekend. The boys stayed home, and Mom rented a hotel room downtown and we had a girls’ weekend—ordering room service, going to the football game together, mani/pedis. On her last night here, after dinner, we came here. She had a martini, and I had soda, but we sat and talked for a long time. She showed me books that she loved and talked about how she used to get the best recommendations from passengers when she was a flight attendant. After that night I thought maybe things were changing between us and that maybe there was a chance we would start to grow closer, but a month after that she had the stroke.”

Tears started to trickle down her cheek, making good on their threat from earlier. Swallowing hard, she let the weight of it all settle around her. Just how much she missed her mom—missed the relationship they could have had. For what must have been the hundredth time since reading the letter, Talia wondered if her mother ever would have shared her secret, letting Talia in on the truth about Gunnar, if she had lived. Or if she would have taken Talia’s side in the ongoing debate about her major, telling Robert that being a teacher was just as admirable as being an accountant, or whatever other uber-practical profession he’d imagined for her.

It did no good to dwell on it; Talia knew that. But the memories of that one last amazing weekend flooded her with all sorts of emotions. Ones that were borderline overwhelming. She hadn’t meant for this moment to be so heavy. She simply wanted to show Dash some place that made her happy. Now here she was, standing in the middle of the book bar, crying.

“Talia,” Dash whispered, pulling her in for a hug. His arms enveloped her, the warmth of his body like a salve on an open wound. She hadn’t realized how much she’d been craving his touch until now. A touch that was more than just the comfort she needed in the moment, but one that she was starting to believe she would always need—in all its different forms.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m crying.”

“You do not need to apologize. I do not like seeing you in tears, but they do not require an explanation or an apology. I am just happy I can be here to hold you when you are upset.”

Talia huffed out a laugh. “How do you do that? How do you manage to say all the swooniest things ever, at just the right time?”

“I do not know what you mean by swooniest, but shall we call it luck?” Dash squeezed his arms around her, placing a chaste kiss on her lips. Butterflies swarmed around her, making her melt into him even more. Shifting himself, Dash twisted to look at his watch. “How far is the restaurant we are meeting your family at?”

“Not far. About a block and a half from here.”

“So we have time for one of these sexy bit readings you mentioned.” Dash waggled his eyebrows seductively.

It was all Talia could do not to giggle again, her insides feeling like the bubbles in a bottle of champagne. Dash was the only person she knew who could make her feel this way. That could turn a moment of such weight and flip it on its head.

“If you would like. But,” she said, trying to play coy, “you have to do the picking and the reading.”

“As it is said on that show Chance likes so much, challenge accepted.”