Page 5 of Perfectly Matched

Chapter Two

Payson Martin squinted at the roof of the bakery across the street from the station. A reflection caught her eye and made her gasp. She could have sworn she’d seen a woman sitting on the roof, dangling her legs while pointing a bow and arrow at her. When their eyes had met, Payson had felt a surge of heat rush through her, coupled with an odd sensation, as though they were somehow connected. But a blink later, the image of the woman was gone.

Payson shook her head and thought again about how sleep-deprived she had been lately. “You’re hallucinating about gorgeous women. You really do need a vacation,” she mumbled as she shuffled across the street and followed the smell of deliciousness into the bakery.

“Hey, Payson,” Sam said as his arm feebly rose in a shaky wave.

“Hi, Sam, how are you doing today?” Two years ago, when his wife of fifty-five years and the baker behind their business had died, Payson had made it a habit to buy a bag of pastries from him every day. She’d worried his business would suffer, but fortunately, Sam’s daughter, Amanda, had stepped in, and she was every bit as good—if not better—of a pastry chef.

“Can’t complain. I’m upright and breathing, so there’s that.”

Payson chuckled as she approached the counter. “Well, then, I’d say it’s a good day.”

“What can I get you?” He grabbed a bag and pulled out two sheets of pastry paper.

She lingered as though scrutinizing every item because she knew Sam would take advantage of the time and fill her in on a story or two about his wife.

“Did I ever tell you,” he asked, “about the time Dottie and I…” And off to memory lane he went. Today, Payson was whisked away to a small village in Tuscany on an anniversary vacation he and his wife had taken forty years ago. As she listened, she pointed to several pastries and held up fingers to let him know how many of each so she didn’t interrupt his story. When they meandered to the end of the counter, her mind was already drifting back to the many phone calls she needed to return and scripts yet to be written before the night’s newscast.

Sam seemed to sense this and always timed his stories to coincide. This was their dance, and Payson made it a point to give him the one thing in life he seemed to be needing the most…companionship. Or maybe that was more a reflection of her. She had seen the faraway stare of loneliness cloud his tear-stained eyes more than once, and she knew what that felt like. Sam seemed to spend as much time at the bakery as she did at the station, and maybe that was because both dreaded going home to a recently empty void that was once filled with happiness.

She made a mental note: when things slowed down at work, she would take him out to dinner. Maybe even make it a weekly ritual. It would be good for both of them.

As she left the store and crossed the street back to the station, a gut feeling told her to turn and glance again at the roof. A twinge of hope shot though her as the image of the woman with short black hair, light brown skin, muscular arms,and a gladiator costume reappeared in her mind. “I know you were there,” she whispered as she stared at the vacant roof. As if saying it out loud would bring the mysterious woman back. But after a moment, she lowered her head and sighed. Yeah, she grumbled as she approached the backdoor, she really did need a vacation.

She swiped the badge that hung from a lanyard around her neck and after hearing the familiar beep, entered the building. She was instantly hit with a barrage of sounds and a flurry of activity. She smiled and nodded to several people as she meandered into the open newsroom stuffed with clusters of low-panel cubicles, some vacant, others occupied. She tossed the bag of pastries on her desk and flopped in her chair. She exhaled a long sigh of exhaustion as she fired up her computer. She had been working five solid weeks without a day off, and the stress was beginning to take its toll.

“Hey.” Her best friend Tegan hiked herself on top of the desk and grabbed the bag.

“Have you heard about anything being staged across the street on the roof of Sam’s bakery?” Payson asked as she logged in to her computer.

Tegan pulled out a scone. “What, like a publicity stunt or something?”

“Yeah, something that involves a gorgeous woman and a bow and arrow?”

“No. I haven’t heard of anything, but it sounds sexy. Was she scantily clad?”

“No, she didn’t look like one of the club girls. She was wearing some sort of sexy Roman costume, with sandals that laced up her legs. More like a Caesar’s Palace kind of outfit, but a little different. Her clothing was more authentic-looking, not quite so campy. Oh, and she was really muscular, like she definitely hits the gym.”

“Hmm.” Tegan shrugged. “Sounds intriguing. If I hear of anything, I’ll let you know.”

“Thanks.” Payson grabbed a muffin, pulled the top off, and discarded the rest.

“Oh hey,” Tegan mumbled in between chewing, “I was talking to my friend at the Mirage, and I can get us tickets for Saturday night to see—”

Payson shook her head as she interrupted. “I’m working all weekend.”

“Again?”

She nodded.

“You, my friend, need a life,” Tegan said as she brushed a few rogue crumbs off her shirt.

“I have a life,” Payson mumbled.

Tegan waved a scolding finger. “No, you don’t…you have work. And work is not a life.”

“True, but work pays the bills.”