Bet on It (7)

The second he met Aja he’d made an effort to remember her name. He’d repeated it in his head six different times. He would have written it down, but he had no idea how she spelled it. So he turned it into a little tune instead.

Aja. Aja. Aja Ow-ens.

Aja. Aja. Aja Ow-ens.

It was catchy. So much so, it had gotten stuck in his head. He’d found himself singing it while showering and while eating his late-night apples and peanut butter. The tune had run its course when he’d gotten up the next morning, but the name had remained. Seared so deeply into his memory that he wasn’t sure it was even possible to forget.

Her face was there too, sweet and round. All dark hooded eyes and lips so full he could have shed a tear over them. Her eyes were glued to her phone, and as far as he knew, she hadn’t noticed him, so he took the opportunity to stare a little longer.

He hadn’t been paying much attention to her looks during their first not-quite-meeting at the Piggly Wiggly. He’d heard her breathing an aisle away, and while he hadn’t been able to see her face, he’d felt pretty certain that she was having a panic attack. They could be like snowflakes, each one different and more complex than the last, but he’d had enough to recognize the signs. And then he had been too focused on preparing himself to help her if things escalated to gauge whether he found her attractive. But when Gram had introduced them at bingo, he knew immediately he definitely did.

Now she wore a black maxi dress that was a bit tight around her upper body and had spaghetti straps. He could see the fullness of her upper arms and the lush way her breasts pressed out of the top. Her skin was a dark golden brown that caught the sun just right, making his breath hitch.

As discreet as he tried to be, Aja must have felt his eyes on her. After a few sweeps of his gaze, she looked up from her phone and stared ahead—right at him. He saw her eyes widen from across the parking lot and a stricken look flash across her face. She looked like she wanted to run. When she didn’t, Walker approached.

“Hey,” he drawled, flashing her a slow, easy smile.

“Uhm, hi.” It was clear that she was unsure what to say. The last thing Walker wanted was to make her uncomfortable. He contemplated walking away with only a greeting, but her mouth was faster than his feet.

“Got some pie?” she asked, gesturing to his takeout containers.

“Cobbler actually. Were you headin’ into Minnie’s too?”

Aja shook her head. “No, I have a hair appointment. I’m getting braids for the summer.” She pointed to the salon two doors over from Minnie’s in the strip mall. “But I’m here early so…”

Her hair looked thick, full of tightly coiled curls that fell a little above her shoulders. He wondered briefly what she was getting done. They were quiet for a few seconds, a slight awkwardness building in the space between them. Walker could end it by bidding her good-bye and leaving, but he didn’t want to. He knew next to nothing about the woman, but he was intrigued by her.

Gram had started mentioning her new bingo buddy on their weekly phone calls months ago. Bingo talk always made him zone out, but from what he’d picked up, Gram considered her sweet but quiet. Meeting Aja in person hadn’t disproven those things, but he’d caught wind of something more. She’d joked with him and Gram on Wednesday night, even giving him a wink after being generous enough to help him as he fumbled through his first game. Plus, there was something a little mischievous behind her eyes.

He’d always been drawn to women who were less than forthcoming with their entire personalities. He liked to be the one to draw hidden shit out of people, loved it when they trusted him enough to open up and let him see everything they kept shut away. His therapist said it probably had something to do with elevated empathy in response to his childhood trauma. Part of him thought it was just him being fake deep in an effort to connect with people, another thing that was rarely easy for him. Either way, it was there, and it refused to let him walk away from Aja.

“You ever had Minnie’s cobbler before?” he asked.

“Nope.” She shook her head, tucking her hair behind her ear. “I’ve actually never eaten there before.”

Walker’s eyes widened almost comically. “Seriously?”

Her lips twitched into a smile. “Seriously.”

“Minnie’s is an institution. I can’t believe no one’s brought you here.”

“I haven’t even been in town a year yet … and I don’t know that many people.”

“That’s a damned shame.” He smiled, but he was only half joking.

He wanted to ask about her friends, but when he’d lived in Greenbelt, he hadn’t had many either. Looking down at the containers in his hand, he felt a brief flash of regret for the late-night piece of cobbler he was giving up. But he figured being able to spend a few more minutes in Aja’s company would make his aching sweet tooth worth it.

“Here.” He held one of the containers out to her. “Everybody needs to try Minnie’s cobbler at least once. It has healin’ powers, you know.”

She raised an eyebrow but accepted the cobbler once he wiggled it around in the air a little.

“Healing powers?” He could hear the skepticism in her voice, and that simply wouldn’t do.

“Yup. This cobbler has kept families together, it’s turned around a high school football team’s losin’ streaks—hell, it even made me come back here after twelve years of refusin’ to get within a twenty-mile radius of Greenbelt.”