Jacquie D’Alessandro - In Over His Head

Josh.

Damn it, how long before she stopped hurting? Before this crushing ache lessened so it didn't feel as if an elephant sat on her chest? Before she stopped thinking about him several hundred times a day, in turns recalling their time together, then wondering what he was doing-and the even more agonizing, Who was he doing it with?

The high-pitched whirl of the blender sounded from the kitchen, and she grimaced. Yup, that's just what she felt like-as if she'd jumped heart-first into an ice-cube filled blender then pushed Frappé.

The aroma of spicy meat filled the room, but did little to interest her. She stared blindly at the images blinking past on the screen as she clicked the remote without enthusiasm.

Well, this pain had to lessen soon. It had to. All she had to do was to stop thinking about him. Stop recalling his smile. His laugh. Stop calling to mind the feel of his hands on her body, the texture of his skin against hers.

Stop seeing him on TV.

Her fingers froze on the remote and she stared at the image of Josh. Her gaze flicked to the bottom corner of the screen, noting by the logo that this was one of those nonstop sports channels. Heart pounding, she upped the volume.

"In other sports news," came the commentator's voice, "Josh Maynard won the International Charity Rodeo held earlier today in Monaco. Maynard, winner of the most All-Around Cowboy titles in history, came out of retirement for the event. He bested rival Wes Handly, who came in second."

As the commentator spoke, footage showing Josh atop a bucking bull flashed. Lexie's breath stalled as she watched what the sportscaster called a "brilliant" ride. Then the picture changed to a grinning Josh, holding a huge gold belt buckle above his head, circling slowly around the center of the arena, waving to a wildly cheering crowd.

"Here's your drink," said Darla, setting a colorful plastic glass on the glass-top coffee table. She plopped next to Lexie on the sofa, then pointed toward the TV. "Hey! Isn't that Josh?"

Unable to speak around the lump in her throat, Lexie nodded. He looked wonderful. And happy. And uninjured-thank goodness. Aching loss raced through her. If only things had been different-

But they weren't. It was over between them. The program switched to baseball and Lexie turned off the television.

After several seconds of silence Darla asked, "You okay?"

Lexie took a shaky breath. "To tell you the truth, I've been better."

"The fact that he won the competition… maybe that means he'll come back and-"

"No," Lexie interjected more sharply than she intended. "It only means that he fulfilled one of his goals. I'm happy for him and wish him all the best. I'm even glad I saw his moment of glory on the TV. But his goals and mine are light-years apart. It's over."

"But-"

Lexie's vehement head shaking halted Darla's words. "No buts. Now, what's this good news of yours?"

It was obvious from Darla's expression that she didn't want to change the subject, but, after heaving a dramatic sigh, she said, "I had lunch today with a Realtor friend whose broker has been contacted by the owner of the property you're interested in. If all goes well, the land will be on the market very soon. Maybe within the next few days."

For the first time in two weeks, a spark of interest stirred in Lexie. "How much?"

Darla named the asking price and the spark of interest flared into real hope.

"Believe it or not, I can actually swing that!" Lexie said.

"You'll need to move fast," Darla warned. "I understand from my friend that other buyers have shown an interest. We'll make a written offer and, hopefully, the owner will accept it right away. If so, you'll have your half acre of heaven." She handed Lexie her margarita. "And something to keep your mind occupied."

"Something to keep my mind occupied would really be welcome," Lexie admitted before she could stop herself.

Darla jumped on the opening like a flea onto a hound. "I'm so sorry things didn't work out for you and Josh. I feel sort of responsible. After all, I'm the one who urged you to go for it."

Knowing she couldn't forever avoid having the "Josh conversation" with Darla, Lexie decided to bite the bull let and just get the ordeal over with. "You didn't urge me to do anything I didn't want to. And it's certainly not your fault that he's gone."

An image of Josh, staring at her just before he left her house, flashed through her mind. It was the last time she'd seen him. When she'd arrived at work the next morning, she learned that he'd checked out of the resort late the previous night.

She should have been relieved, glad his early departure had erased any chance of running into him again, forcing an awkward confrontation or conversation. Instead it had felt as if she'd been sucker punched in the heart.

"Still, I feel like I talked you into dating him," Darla said, her eyes troubled.

Lexie gave Darla what she hoped passed for a reassuring smile. "Look, I'm twenty-eight years old. A big girl. I have no one to blame but myself for the heart bruise. I knew going in he wasn't right for me, but I stupidly followed my heart instead of my head."

She sucked down several long mouthfuls of margarita. "Well, never again. I've made the same mistake twice . Now it's time to make a different mistake. I'm not sure what that mistake will be, but one thing's for damn sure-it will not involve another adrenaline junkie. If the guy so much as rides a bicycle without a helmet, he's history."

"That's the spirit," Darla said approvingly. "The fact that you're talking about another guy means you're inching toward Phase Two. Now all we need to do is find you some sexy guy to have a fling with and you'll be all set."

The word "fling" hit her like a cold, wet washcloth. The mere thought of another man touching her made her feel queasy-or maybe that was just from her freedom with the margarita on an empty stomach. Still, it seemed as if every pore ached with missing Josh.

She mentally thunked her forehead. Josh. Josh. Josh. How to erase him from her mind? Her heart? Being at home was torture-memories of him filled every room of her house, yet, except for work, she could barely stand the thought of going out. And work offered little refuge since every time she looked at the pool or the beach-on average a few hundred times a day-she visualized Josh swimming or walking along the shore.

Damn it, it was time to crawl out of this self-imposed exile. She'd mourned long enough. She hadn't heard a word from Josh-not that she'd expected to. But lying awake in her empty bed during the long nights, she hadn't been able to extinguish the foolish hope flickering in the deep recesses of her heart that he might call or write.

Well, clearly he'd moved on with his life, and based on his obvious happiness on the TV, he was thriving. Now she needed to do the same. Surely this breath-stealing ache would diminish with time.

And as for a man? Phooey! She didn't want or need a man cluttering up her life. And that was fine-she didn't have to have one. But it was time to pull herself up, dust herself off, and start living for herself again.

"I'm not ready for a fling, but I'm ready for me ," she said out loud, her head swimming a bit from the potent drink. "Who needs Josh anyway? With him gone, it's one less bell to answer, one less egg to fry."

"No offense, Lexie, but you don't know how to fry an egg."

"Well, I'm going to learn. And I'm going to buy my piece of land and build a house on it. And stay right here in Florida. And be happy, damn it. Happy ."

Okay, her head-marinated though it was in margarita-was convinced. Now she just had to work on her heart. And she'd do that. As soon as she found all the pieces.

Josh stood in the center of the arena, listening to the thunderous applause. Accepting the gold buckle, he held the trophy above his head and circled slowly. Wes Handly, who'd come in second, tipped his hat, and Josh returned the gesture of mutual respect. He circled again, absorbing the moment, recording it in his memory, storing it alongside all his other great rodeo memories. And that's exactly what they were-memories. Now officially part of his past.