“Everything’s cool. No worries, Layla’s a friend of mine. She got held up, but she’s on her way now. She asked me to meet you here. My name is P.J. McCabe.” He held out his hand in greeting.
After a slight hesitation, Juliet stuck out her own hand and felt it at once engulfed by P.J.’s man paw. Juliet was at once struck by a strange sensation. There was something about P.J.’s thoroughly masculine appearance that was solid…safe. She wanted to drink in his scent, put her head on his big shoulder, and rest.
Get a hold of yourself Juliet was mortified at her own thoughts. Because this absurdly intimate reaction she had to a man simply because he shook her hand? That showed just how tired she had become, how alone she felt. Definitely time to stop, gather her wits, and set herself straight.
P.J. mistook the look on Juliet’s face and withdrew his hand right away. “Did I hurt you? I don’t shake hands a lot with women. And these big mitts of mine? Sometimes they don’t know their own strength.” P.J. felt oddly embarrassed, a totally new feeling for him. “I don’t think Layla told me your name.”
“My name is Juliet. Juliet Jones.”
“Pretty.”
“What?” Juliet looked at P.J. McCabe like he was insane. And he didn’t blame her because honestly, pretty was not a word a guy might use to describe little Miss Jones. On a good day P.J. thought she might be passable. But today was not that day.
“Your name. I meant to say your name is pretty. From Romeo and Juliet, right?” P.J. said in way of explanation.
The green eyes that stared back at him so unflinchingly were tired. World weary in a disappointment-in-life kind of way. They were the color of summer ivy, flecked with gold, and fringed with thick dark lashes, but the brows above them were just one hair away from a uni-brow. Juliet’s ears were small and flat to her head but came to a small point at the top giving her the appearance of a fairy or a woodland sprite. The nails on her small, thin fingers were unpolished and bitten down to waning moons. She was skinny in an undernourished, unhealthy kind of way. Juliet’s skin was so pale that it reminded him of the underbelly of the fish he had caught last Sunday morning. Her clavicle bones were sharp enough to cut paper.
When Juliet had reached out to shake P.J.’s hand, a Hostess cupcake wrapper had fallen from the pocket of her hoodie.
But it was Juliet’s hair that really caught P.J.’s attention.
P.J. had always been partial to brunettes, and Juliet’s hair was a deep chestnut with natural highlights of gold and copper.
At one point it must have been beautiful.
But now it looked as unhealthy as the rest of her.
It was without shine, and it capped Juliet’s head in a halo.
A bizarre, crazy, Halloween sort of halo.
The jagged, uneven locks stuck out from her head like thorns on a thistle. It was cut short in some places, longer in others, and had several small bald patches throughout.
Juliet had been pulling at her hair in what must have been painful tugs throughout their short conversation.
A series of short beeps drew their attention away from each other and towards the minivan that was careening down the dirt road. It came to a screeching halt in front of P.J. and Juliet while blowing up dust and gravel in its wake.
“Hi there! I was worried my directions weren’t clear enough. I’m glad to see you made it!”
A musical voice called out from the open window in the van. Then a very pretty, tall blonde jumped out of the vehicle. She wore her long hair in a side fishtail braid. The artfully woven mane draped over her right shoulder and sat enticingly just below the swollen curve of her full breast. Long, toned legs were covered in form fitting jeans, and were paired with a lacy white T-shirt. When she took off her aviator glasses, Layla’s eyes were the light blue of summer skies. She had a beautiful smile, the kind that welcomed people in and made them smile back.
She came at them quickly, silver bracelets jingling on her wrists.
“Sorry I’m late.” She smiled her apology at Juliet. “I’m Layla Dumond.”
And although, she was a head taller than Juliet, Layla still had to stand on her tippy toes to give P.J. a kiss on his scruffy cheek.
“You’re a doll, you know that.”
“And you gotta start cutting this shit out, I got things to do you know.” P.J. growled at her.
Layla put her hands on her well-shaped hips and cocked her head. When she did the swirls that hung from her ears danced merrily and twinkled in the sunlight. “Well, whatcha standing there wasting time for, big guy? You got somewhere to be? Go be there!”
P.J. shook his head at her in mock disgust. “Piece of fucking work,” he muttered under his breath. Then without sparing a glance at Juliet, P.J. turned on his heels and headed for his truck.
“Stop by the house on the way home, Reggie’s got some fresh catch sitting on ice for you.” Layla called out to him.
“Yeah? I’ll go check it out.” P.J. looked at Juliet then. “Don’t take any shit from this one, she may look like an angel, but make no mistake she bargains like the devil.”
Layla’s laugh rung out again as she waved him goodbye. “Thanks again, goof ball.”
Now Layla’s kind blue eyes moved over Juliet in a quick, keen assessment.
“Hey, you look familiar. I’ve seen you before. I know you, right?”
“What?” Juliet felt her
