Stroke of Fortune Read Online Free PDF Page A

sure?”
    Alva, behind the mask once again, nodded some more, and then waved her thin hand. She pointed at the television, indicating she wanted to concentrate on her program. It was a Law and Order rerun, from when Benjamin Bratt was on the show. Alva had a thing for him.
    â€œOkay, Mama,” Josie said softly. “If you’re sure you don’t need me to fix you something, I’m going to have a nice, long bath.”
    Alva waved her hand again, but never took her gaze off the television screen.
    Josie went through the open arch opposite the front door and into the tiny, square hallway. From there it was two steps to her bedroom.
    She flipped on the switch by the door. Her room was just big enough for her bed and her dresser and the small pine desk she’d found at a yard sale while she was still in high school.
    Josie’s computer sat on that desk. It was a nice one, with a big screen and the newest software and tons of memory. She’d bought it when she was living up in Hurst. Mostly she used it for word processing, keeping her small bank balance in order and for e-mail. It made her feel hopeful, somehow. That she was hooked in to what mattered, and on her way up. She had a car—a not-so-great one, but a car, none-the-less—and she had a computer. And she wouldn’t always be working the worst shifts at the MissionCreek Café. She was dealing with the obstacles life had put in her path, step-by-step, one day at a time.
    Josie grabbed the hem of the snug black T-shirt with Mission Creek Café written in orange across the front of it. She was just about to yank it off over her head when she heard tapping on the window behind the desk.
    She froze, with her arms crossed, still holding the hem of the shirt in each hand.
    There it was again. Three sharp raps.
    Josie stared at the yellowed blind pulled down over the window and debated. Should she see who was out there? Probably not. Who could it be but someone looking to make trouble? Anyone on the up-and-up would just walk up the front steps and knock on the door.
    But then again, why would a troublemaker bother to tap on the window and let her know he was there? With a sigh, Josie smoothed her shirt back down and slid around the end of the bed to lift the side of the blind.
    At the sight of the face looming close in the shadows beyond the glass, her pulse went racing and her throat got tight. “Flynt.” She mouthed his name, barely able to give voice to the word.
    Was she surprised to see him?
    Not really.
    Had she suspected it just might be him?
    Maybe.
    Did it hurt to see his face again?
    Definitely.
    He said, slowly, so she could read the words off those lips of his that had kissed her in places she still blushed to think about, “Open the window, Josie. Now.”
    She stared at him, unmoving. He stared right back. Finally she held up a hand, signaling for him to wait just a moment. He nodded, his mouth a grim line.
    She dropped the shade and went to shut the door and engage the privacy lock, pausing first to listen for the sounds from the living room. She heard the drone of the television and the hum of the window air conditioner. Nothing that might indicate her mother knew she had a visitor.
    Which was all to the good. She’d just as soon not have her mama asking her a lot of questions about Flynt Carson. Alva didn’t need to know about what had happened between Josie and her former boss. She’d only worry if she knew.
    Josie went back to the window and did what Flynt wanted, running up the shade, slipping the latch, shoving up the bottom pane and unhooking the screen. He started to climb through.
    She decided when it was almost too late that it was a bad idea to let him into her bedroom. “Just wait,” she whispered. “I’ll come out there.”
    He gave her another tight shake of his head. “Someone might see us.”
    He was probably right. Someone just might. She found herself