Chapter 4 #3
“Cheri’s!” I exclaim, lifting the bag to my nose. The warm, sweetly spicy smell of a carrot cake muffin almost brings tears to my eyes. “Ugh, I could kiss you.”
“I figured you could use a sweet treat. I ran into Jo at Cheri’s, and she mentioned you took a fall last night.
You feeling okay?” Mindy pushes her sunglasses up on top of her head.
Her dark brown eyes, framed by a healthy smattering of laugh lines, are visibly concerned.
It’s moments like this that make me so incredibly grateful for the community of people I’ve found in Silvercreek, people who care deeply and understand that my love language is baked goods.
I take a bite of the muffin and close my eyes in ecstasy.
“There’s a reason horseback riding isn’t a nighttime activity,” I manage to say through muffin crumbs.
“I’m so glad you weren’t hurt worse! Just think how upset I’d be if I had to start ordering my books on online,” Mindy says, winking.
“Ha, I appreciate you, and I’ll make sure to consider your aversion to online shopping the next time I decide to do something idiotic.”
“Please do. Speaking of Jo, word at Cheri’s this afternoon is that her new hire is rather… noteworthy.”
An image of Shayne pops into my head, and I immediately feel my face begin to flush.
“Yes, he’s pretty noteworthy.”
“Maybe Jo should look into better security.”
“What for?”
“Sounds like she might have her hands full of people creeping around desperate for a peek.”
“Mindy, you’re such a horn dog. What would Judson think?” Judson, Mindy’s husband, is Silvercreek’s fire chief. He has a massive handlebar mustache and an equally massive heart of gold.
“Jud approves of anything that gets my blood pumping,” Mindy says, raising her eyebrows so her sunglasses slide back into place, a la Tom Cruise in Risky Business. It’s a very smooth move, and I can’t help but give her a slow clap of appreciation.
“You know I could stay and chat with you all day, but I’ve got to run and pick up Fitz from the groomer.” Fitz, short for Fitzgibbons Reginald Watercress III, is Mindy and Judson’s pug, a local celebrity. Fitz typically can be found riding shotgun in Judson’s fire engine, barking his head off.
“Don’t forget to order my three copies of Romantic Comedy. We have few new teachers at the high school, and I’ve finally convinced them to join BBWR, so this is their welcome gift.”
“You’re a giver, Mindy. And a true book club evangelist.”
“You know what I say—”
“A well-read woman moves mountains,” we say in unison. Mindy laughs and squeezes my arm.
“Paige of Pages, my favorite page pusher. Take care of yourself. No more funny horse business.” She squeezes my arm once more before turning to leave the store.
I have no food to make at home, so on the way I stop at the grocery store.
I breathe a sigh of relief, knowing that there is literally no chance I’ll run into John or Ashley.
For the past twelve months, I would automatically scan the parking lot to make sure neither of their cars were there before I’d commit to entering the store.
A small silver lining from today’s visit is knowing they’re on their way to being thousands of miles away.
Silvercreek is all mine for the next week. Blessings upon blessings.
I’m staring at a myriad of soup cans, having a heated internal debate between Italian Wedding Soup or Chicken and Dumplings, when a now familiar voice sounds behind me.
“If I had to guess what sustained banshees, I’d go with human suffering. Although, soup would be my second guess.”
I turn quickly—too quickly—and smack my basket into Shayne's shopping cart. A loud clanging noise sounds, and Shayne puts up his hands like I’ve pulled a gun on him.
I’m struck again by how tall he is—the grocery cart almost looks like a toy in his hands.
He’s not wearing his hat, so I’m treated to my first fully unobstructed view of his face.
Even in the unflattering, florescent light of the grocery store, he’s beautiful.
Even one of his features would be enough to qualify as handsome, but all of them together?
It’s unreal. Strong, etched jawline, cheekbones that belong on the pages of a fashion magazine, wavy dark hair that’s begging for me to lose my fingers in it, and a well-formed mouth with lips shaped like they were carved with an artist’s intention.
I’d like to explore every inch of him like a cave diver.
And now I’m staring at him. I know I’m staring at him. But I can’t stop. He’s the tastiest snack this store has ever seen. I’m like a deer caught in the headlights. I need to break the spell before I start drooling. I shake my head slightly.
“Is sneaking up on people your thing?” I ask, my tone slightly bitchier than I’d like, but I’m trying to hide how much seeing him stirs me.
“Yes,” he answers, a smile playing over his lips. “I’m almost disappointed to find you not in distress while screaming about John.”
“John being an asshole is not pertinent to figuring out what soup I want to eat,” I turn back to continue contemplating the cans.