2. Line of Scrimmage #2
“Me too. How about I come over Wednesday morning and bring coffee and breakfast? I don’t know if Grady told you, but I’m leaving in a few days for the summer. I’ll be back end of August, and when I get home, we can stay up all night, watching movies and talking about boys and eating popcorn.”
“He did tell me. I’m bummed but I’m glad to hear you’re going on an adventure. We’ll catch up over coffee. And consider yourself fully informed, the house is unfurnished and covered in dust and dead rodents.”
“Attractive. I’ll bring a picnic blanket and we can sit outside.”
“See you soon.”
They disconnected and Haley shoved the phone in her back pocket. The old Haley was always at the top of a tree, covered in mud. After ballet and martial arts and basketball and even science club. Finding the old Haley again might be a worthy adventure.
By the time she carted all five boxes of her belongings into the house, the shadows had grown long and her arms and back ached.
And her tummy growled. She flipped the switch in her desolate bedroom, a single bulb on the ceiling fan lighting up, but not without a few crackling flickers.
Humph. Pulling her phone out, she searched for delivery.
Crap. First world problem. No delivery service in rurality. Not even pizza. Grumbling, she shoved her phone back in her pocket, grabbed the keys, and ventured out in search of food.
Main Street was bustling for a Monday night.
Larissa’s Diner was as cheery as the day she’d left, but sadly closed for the evening.
The bank hadn’t changed a bit, but was dark now that business hours were over.
She’d avoided Tracey’s Apparel like the plague as a child, but it sounded fun now.
Coffee shop on every corner, where it had only been every other corner back in the day.
Some things changed. A few new shops, restaurants, and inns added character.
She was relieved to find no big-box retail had taken over. Essentially the base camp for dozens of mountain adventures, the town still held that artsy-tourist vibe.
Ahab’s was packed and looked too crazy for a quiet dinner alone, but she knew it was the hub where the cool grownups had hung out.
Naturally, that hadn’t included her parents.
Amber streetlights, updated since she’d last been here, flickered on as she scanned the streets.
Sutherland’s Hardware was closing up for the evening.
Good to know they were still around. She’d be investing a hefty sum there as she fixed up the house.
Maybe Pippa Sutherland was back in town? Or her older brother, Asher. Haley had always had a huge crush on him. Like all the other girls at school. Not that she was looking for a relationship of any sort right now. Ouch.
Ooh, a hole-in-the-wall pub. That was new.
The narrow cedar structure with black trim and a sky blue old-fashioned door said cozy was its goal.
She parked out front, checking in the mirror to be sure she didn’t look as if she’d spent the last week on the road, nor buried a dead raccoon in her backyard a few hours ago.
When she stepped onto the sidewalk, she could already smell the yummy scent wafting out. The rustic blue door opened, and a smiling couple exited the restaurant, gazing at each other, walking hand in hand. Happy and adorable. Jerks.
She shifted her purse over her shoulder and stepped inside. The mouthwatering scent of smoked meats and cheeses, homemade sourdough, and fresh brews filled her anticipating tummy. Famished, she nearly orgasmed at the impact of the savory smell.
Not too many tables, but filled enough to feel loved, the place was cozy without being cramped.
Behind the register, at the edge of the bar that dominated the main wall, a collection of t-shirts and ball caps were neatly folded for sale, both themed with the restaurant’s name in block lettering, and others that had clever sayings and “Foothills” emblazoned across the chest or back.
Below the register, a refrigerated display case was filled with smoked meats and cheeses from the pub, some of Grady’s Black Op beers, and a collection of cookies from Trace’s mom’s bakery, were labeled for individual sale.
Warm and fuzzy at the familiar touches, Haley felt at home already.
The bar itself was a gleaming polished wood, the center of which was home to a half dozen taps. Corrugated metal siding with an iron-finished pipe footrest made up the base of the bar, twelve black leather bar stools were filled with ten happy diners.
As she moved to claim the corner spot at the edge of the bar, a roguishly deep voice radiated out from the kitchen, the vibration sending shivers over her skin as if priming her for something scrumptious.
The body that followed triggered an unconscious dopey-grinned hair flip.
Tall, freaking built with a black t-shirt hugging powerful shoulders…
pecs… abs… hmm, nice view . Forcing her eyes north, her gaze landed on the face.
Oh. That was nice too… she could hardly follow her own train of thought.
Chiseled jaw, gooey chocolate brown eyes, trim brown hair with a feisty cowlick that spiked his hair up in front.
Really familiar, but so out of context she couldn’t place him.
Must have gone to school together. Regardless, she could sit and stare at this guy all day.
He hadn’t even looked at her, and she could feel his hands clutched on her hips, tugging her against him, his supple lips trailing over her collarbone, like a private fantasy.
Still frozen in place, she about melted to the floor when he finally looked her way. “Hey,” he called over the customers he’d just finished serving. “Grab a seat wherever you’d like.”
Remembering he wasn’t a figment of her imagination, that she was hungry—and not just for those biceps—she snagged one of the last seats. He snagged a menu from the unattended hostess’ podium and met her across the bar.
“Thanks,” she whispered on a controlled exhale. Her pulse pounded through her limbs, straight down to her core as she accepted the menu and met his gaze.
F inn clenched his jaw tight, keeping his feet planted firmly on the ground and his brain focused on keeping his cock from saluting the gorgeous brunette in front of him. What the hell was wrong with him? Like a fucking adolescent without a smidge of control over the unruly appendage.
Behaving like the grown up he was, he kept his eyes on hers.
He absolutely did not notice that her lace-trimmed tank top hugged some spectacular breasts, hinting at a subtle shadow of cleavage.
Did not notice how those lips were strawberry edible.
Hair pulled back in a messy knot, her jeans and button-up top were wrinkled, like she’d had a hell of a day.
“Get you anything to drink?” he asked.
She paused, holding her breath for a moment, then laughed. “God yes. I don’t even know what I want. Beer. Something that’ll bite me back and remind me I’m still alive.”
He practically groaned at the vision that invoked. “I gotcha. One sec.”
Punching a few codes into the computer, he closed out the checks for the pair of retired loggers in front of him. Ken and Ron were here every Monday, while their wives went to their book club. He slid their checks across, and nodded. “Stay out of trouble.”
Grabbing a glass from under the bar, he filled a pint with the hoppiest IPA on tap.
Tara slid up to the computer next to him and punched in an order.
The server was always so dang peppy. Well, she had twenty-one-year-old knees and a high ponytail that spun all night as she walked.
He assumed it must generate enough electricity to keep her going like an overly caffeinated barista.
“Hey, I heard you and Trace broke up. What happened?”
And she hadn’t yet learned that some things were not appropriate to bring up at work.
Not that they socialized outside of work.
But she was nice and a damn good worker and always meant well, so he let it slide.
“Some things don’t work out.” Worse, he’d been single a grand total of ten hours, and word had spread.
“I’m sorry. Zoe says Trace was your high school sweetheart and had figured you two would get married now that you’re back in town.
How romantic, to reunite after all those years apart?
I always wanted one of those second chance romances, but I’d have to have a decent first chance first.” Her ponytail nearly smacked him in the face as she turned to grab a trio of menus and a cluster of silverware wrapped in black cloth napkins.
“Really not looking to talk on it,” he muttered.
She batted apologetic eyelashes at him before bouncing across the room to welcome the newcomers.
Crossing back over to the hottie at the end of the bar, he flipped a cardboard coaster like a coin so it landed face up and set the beer on it. “See what you think of this one.”
Sapphire blue eyes dancing in amusement, her gaze didn’t leave his as she took a testing sip, licking her lips and smiling as the hoppy brew slid down her throat. She glanced at the tap. “Black Op? I’m embarrassed to admit that I haven’t tried it yet.”
He nodded, quickly disappearing to fill an order, and was back in a flash.
“The best. I can’t say Foothills is such a small town that I know everyone, and I’ve only been back in town a few months, but I’ve never seen you around.
” Dumbass . He used to be decent at meeting women, but he was epically drowning in lame with this one.
“I just moved back into town. Today, actually.” She gestured to the wrinkled clothes and her eye twitched comically.
“Hence the need to get bit?” Not helping .
The corner of her mouth quirked up. “Yes. My house is not exactly in shambles, but I already had to bury a dead raccoon, I have no furniture or even dishes, and will be sleeping in my brand new sleeping bag on carpet that has not been vacuumed in over a decade.”
He knew exactly where she could sleep, much more comfortably tonight.
Shit, never mind , he remembered his own less-than-ideal living situation.
Not that she would, or should, take some stranger up on that offer after knowing them for thirty seconds.
“At least the raccoon was dead when you buried it.”
A slap-happy, snorty chuckle loosened her tight shoulders. “Too true.” Leaning her elbows on the bar, she glanced down at the menu, then back up at him, the corner of her mouth turning up in a flirty smile. “I’m so hungry, but I still can’t use my brain. What’s good?”
Swallowing, he crossed his arms, trying to remember… well, remember anything when she looked at him like that. Like he was the best thing on the menu. “Either the summer salad with smoked salmon, or the sausage sampler with side of cheese soup if you’re more for comfort food tonight.”
“I’d love to try the sausage.” She took a long pull from her glass and licked her lips.
Holy shit. She wasn’t exactly making a move, but something about the way she talked, the way she looked at him when she said it, shot straight to his… okay, she was fucking hot and was licking her lips while asking to taste his sausage.
Rather than typing her order into the computer at the bar, he hollered it at Zoe as he passed the kitchen and stepped outside for a breath of fresh air.
What had happened to him? He’d been dumped a matter of hours ago.
Then a few minutes of a normal interaction with a beautiful woman, and he was brewing some sort of horny panic attack.
Fuck, this time last year, he’d have gotten her number and promised to swing by when he next passed through town. And then his life had been turned upside down. In so many ways.