Page 45 of A Hard Habit to Break

“Given its location at the intersection and the corner entrance, it would make an excellent community space.”

“The shelves could be repurposed for books,” Noah suggested, watching her work with her digital pencil on the screen.

“That’s true, Noah.” Rachel nodded slowly, making notes. “We’d need to consider accessibility…”

“Ground floor access, central location. Safer access for seniors. Family-friendly egress for strollers. Might consider relocating the post office to free up space in the town hall for local government, too.”

“You’re right.” The town hall currently housed the mayoral office, law enforcement, the library, the post office, and all the community meetings.

“I know a thing or two about building codes,” Noah offered. “Could save you some research time.”

“I’ll remember that.” She closed her tablet cover. “I’m done.”

Easy conversation flowed as they walked up Main Street, crossing Cypress and Maple Streets, passing The Coffee Bean Barn, The General Store, and the Twist N’ Curl Beauty Parlor. They were entering the Black Bear when, from behind the bar, Gracie Lou shouted, “Game time! Benji versus Noah!”

“What? No,” Rachel said, her mouth agape. After a near-perfect afternoon with Noah, thirty-year-old, beer-soaked former high-school jocks and Benji, with his California yogi athleticism, in a matchup would spell disaster for any adult male behavior from either of them. “Benji, what did you do?”

“Just telling the fellas I’m handy with a football.” He was already out of his seat, tossing a wink over his shoulder. “You know I like to throw down.”

“And I could tackle you,” Rachel hissed. He had no idea how crazed Noah and his buddies could be when challenged about their football prowess.

Noah grinned. “Benji, I like you. You sure our friendship can survive the defeat?”

“Noah, don’t you dare.” Rachel knew he heard the inherent threat. Her warning went unheeded.

Benji stood, stretching like this was just another day at their yoga studio. “Can your ego?”

“That sounds like a challenge, Noah,” Caleb said, clearly a dare Noah would never ignore.

“You’re on my team,” Noah called.

The other firefighters, most of them Service County Otters who’d followed Noah’s lead as teens on the field, volunteered once more. Apparently, the men of Service, and a few women, conspired against her to vanquish the Noah of five minutes ago. In his place, a bullheaded teenage version of the man arose, like a genie from a tipped-over beer bottle, with his band of brothers fixated on pummeling her plus one.

Rachel pivoted on her heel, eyes following both men through the exit doors. “This is going to be stupid, isn’t it?”

Benji said something that made Noah smirk, and then Noah shoulder-checked him as they headed toward the Johnson farm with the whole bar behind them.

The game was on.

And so, apparently, was the competition. If he thought she would cheer him on…Think again, cowboy. Think. Again.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

THEJOHNSON FAMILYfarm had transformed into a high school football field. Word spread fast for a Saturday afternoon. While Noah and his team of former high school all-stars strategized, Benji rummaged among the menfolk, trying to assemble a team that wasn’t weary of losing to Noah’s elite squad. In the end, Tobias, Eli, and the minister had decided to join Benji in the defeat to come. It was a David versus Goliath matchup that would fuel the town gossips, of which there were many, for days to come.

Rachel had easily transformed from a corporate power player to a country girl with natural grace. Watching her laugh with Boone and Mr. Wanakee reaffirmed what Noah knew: The town held a piece of her heart. He couldn’t wait to show her more of what Service had to offer… mainly him.

“Touchdown!” Benji yelled, for the third time in forty-five minutes.

Cheers erupted from the stands, aka hay bales placed side by side and stacked for personal comfort. It was another winning play wherein Benji’s teammate, the town’s religious leader, who qualified for the senior discount menu, carried the ball across the goal line. Pastor Harris, God bless him, wore black dress pants and a threadbare, skintight praying hands T-shirt, with a pair of dusty tennis shoes that had left their best days on the march to Jericho.

“Yay,” Rachel shouted, using her cupped hands like a megaphone. Acting as cheerleader, she looked like she hadn’t had this much fun in years. Under better circumstances, the echoing memories of past victories of her screaming from the bleachers above the ponytailed girls on the sidelines with the pom-poms would have Noah preening like Prince Charming.

Not today. Clearly, heaven had picked a team… and Noah was quarterbacking for the other guys.

“Go, Benjamin and the God squad!” Penelope cheered, her caramel-colored Aussiedoodle, Stassia, at her side, with Hiccup, Eli’s golden retriever, and, what do you know, Rachel’s color-patch tabby making a rare appearance and sitting center stage, as if she had a cash bet riding on the outcome.

“Throw the ball, Noah,” Mr. Zuniga yelled. “You’re holding it too long.”