6. John
6
JOHN
I stepped out of the hardware store, staring across the street, cursing under my breath. The sign Kind of a Big Dill hung over the sidewalk, the silly name making me shake my head. Everyone thought it amusing.
Except me. I didn’t vote against it, though. Somehow I couldn’t bring myself to hurt Quinn that way.
I had to admit, though, I missed the simple Sandwich Shop that had hung there ever since I was a kid. I missed Thelma Hopkins.
If I was honest, one of the reasons I missed her was because my relationship with her was a lot less complicated than the one I danced around with the new owner, Quinn.
In the month since her restaurant had opened, we had bumped into each other several times. It was odd since every time we did, I knew she was close even before our eyes would clash. The unusual seafoam color of her gaze always caught me off guard. So did the intense awareness of sensing her. I didn’t understand it.
She was always unfailingly polite, greeting me with a smile and a friendly hello. Invariably, I said something wrong and those eyes would flash, but her smile never faded. She often muttered curses or names under her breath, but to anyone looking, they would simply see two people exchanging pleasantries. They had no idea of the constant war between us. I had managed to insult her wardrobe, shoes, restaurant, even the way she had trimmed the front bushes at the house. My foot was constantly in my mouth, and I had taken to avoiding her if possible.
I threw the seed and the new rake in the back of my truck, gripping the sides of the cargo walls. My stomach was grumbling loudly. I had been snappy in the hardware store, acting, as my nephew would call it, “hangry.”
I had been so busy all day, I hadn’t eaten. I didn’t want to go to the modest Chinese place, the pizza parlor, or the more upscale Golden Butter restaurant in our small town. And the coffee shop didn’t serve meals, leaving only Kind of a Big Dill.
And Quinn Harper.
The bane of my existence.
If I went in to eat and she saw me, she’d be all smiles, sweetness, and light. And no doubt crowing in delight at her victory. I’d sworn I would never eat there. A stupid thing to say, but as I realized, I often said stupid things to Quinn.
Everyone loved her. Proclaimed her the best thing that could have happened to Richton.
She was nothing but a pain in my ass, and I refused to succumb to her charms.
If I did, the slope that would put me on was too slippery, and winter would close in fast.
My stomach grumbled again, making up my mind. It was either eat something across the street in enemy territory or do my needed grocery shopping then drive back to the farm and fix myself something to eat.
By then, I’d be past hangry and downright miserable.
The choice was made for me as I felt another rumble pass through me.
Eat.
I crossed the street, my stomping feet indicating my mood. I opened the door and stepped in, surprised to see it fairly busy for this time of day. Some tables were taken, a couple of locals at the counter. I had to admit, it smelled good. Not meeting anyone’s gaze or looking too closely, I sat in the end booth at the back, grabbing a menu. The kitchen door swung open, and I let out a sigh of relief when Tammy Becker walked out, carrying a tray. I’d gone to school with her brother. She was a lot younger than us, so I had known her all her life. She was perky, pretty, and kind. Engaged to be married next month. She delivered some food, crossing over to my booth with a smile and the coffeepot in hand.
“John Elliott, how are you?” she asked, filling the mug already on the table without asking.
“Good, Tammy. Hungry.”
She laughed, indicating the board behind her. “You came to the right place. The special platter today is delicious. And big. It might even fill you up.”
I glanced at the board and nodded. “Sounds good. Fast, if you can. I got a ton of work waiting.”
“Not a problem. Cheese on that sandwich?”
“Yep. Everything.”
“Got it.”
She walked away, and I relaxed. Maybe Quinn was out. Busy somewhere else. I could eat and leave. Pay cash. She’d never even know I was here.
It was for the best. Every time we met, there were sparks. I acted badly, she smiled sweetly, and I stormed away.
It was sort of our thing.
Not that we had a thing.
Quinn Harper meant nothing to me.
She owned a local business and rented a house from me. That was it.
I didn’t care that she was a single mother.
I never noticed how pretty her dark brown hair was. How it contrasted with those seafoam green eyes of hers.
Never.
And I certainly didn’t fantasize about that mouth of hers. Silencing it with my own or seeing it wrapped around?—
“Hi, Farmer John!”
I startled at the sight of the little girl now sitting across from me in my booth. She clutched a doll in one hand and a cookie in the other. She was a replica of her mother, right down to the sweet smile and the stubborn temperament.
And unfailingly irresistible.
“Hey, Pumpkin.”
She grinned, her teeth uneven and crooked, missing a couple in places. It gave her an impish look. She wore overalls, paired today with a plaid shirt. I knew without looking there would be sneakers on her feet.
Again, just like her mother.
“What ya doing?” Abby asked.
Tammy appeared, sliding a huge plate in front of me. Steam drifted off the soup, and the sandwich and fries looked delicious. My mouth watered, and I forgot all the reasons I was against this place and could only see the one right thing.
Lunch.
“Eating lunch,” I responded, picking up the thick roast beef sandwich and taking a bite. I chewed slowly, the tender meat and cheese tasty. The horseradish tickled my nose, and I almost groaned at the taste.
“Are you gonna eat all that?” Abby asked in wonder.
“Yep.” I held out a French fry. “You want one?”
She grinned. “They’re my favorite. Momma only lets me have them every so often.”
“Oh yeah?” I turned my plate, pushing it closer and adding more ketchup to the side. “Help yourself.”
There was silence for a few moments as I ate, the food dispelling the slight headache and feelings of discontent that had been forming. I took a bite of the large pickle on the plate, surprised at how delicious it was. I knew the catch of the place was every sandwich came with a huge homemade dill pickle, hence the silly name. And now that I had tried it, I had to admit, it wasn’t a bad idea. I stood by my thought that the name was ridiculous, though.
The soup was rich and thick with vegetables. I was enjoying it all, even the quiet company of Quinn’s little girl, when she spoke. She had taken a few of the fries, dipping them several times in the ketchup, licking it off her fingers. She was polite, not greedy, and she had good manners.
“Do you like my momma’s pickles? I help make them!”
“They’re really good,” I assured her.
She leaned close. “Are you gonna order dessert, Farmer John?”
I had to smile at her nickname. She had called me that since the day she’d come to the farm with her mother to return my toolbox.
It had been an unmitigated disaster.
“Maybe. Any suggestions?”
“The chocolate cake with cherry ice cream is the best.”
“Is that your favorite?”
She nodded.
“Does your momma only let you have it every so often?”
Again, she nodded, eating a French fry smothered in ketchup.
I got Tammy’s attention, ordering the chocolate cake and cherry ice cream.
I looked around, no longer hungry, but curious.
Where was Abby’s mother? Did she leave her here to be looked after often?
The cake plate and extra fork arrived in front of me, and I slid the plate closer to Abby. “Help yourself,” I said again. We shared the cake and ice cream, and I watched with amusement as she took the last bite of the ice cream, her cheeks full.
Then her eyes grew wide, and I tried not to smile as she chewed fast, swallowing.
“Brain freeze?” I guessed.
She blew out a long breath of air, and I began to laugh. I couldn’t help it. She looked adorable and sweet.
Then I felt it. That tingle that happened every time Quinn was close. I turned my head to see her standing at the end of the booth, watching us. Her eyes were narrowed, her hand on her hip. I tried not to notice she wasn’t in overalls and a flannel shirt today. She wore a dress. One that touched at her breasts, hips, and swirled above her dimpled knees.
Why the hell did her knees have to have dimples?
She crossed her arms, pushing her breasts together.
Had they always been so…bountiful?
“Farmer John,” she greeted me. “You’re not really letting my daughter eat your cake, are you?”
“He gave me French fries too, Momma!”
Her eyes narrowed more. “He did, did he?”
“Yes—he told me to help myself, so I did.”
I turned my head, trying to silently warn Abby to be quiet. But she was smiling and happy, pleased to see her mother, not holding anything back.
“Farmer John isn’t a grouch like you say, Momma. He’s been really nice!”
It was my turn to glare at Quinn.
“I was being nice because she seemed to be alone. You use your new business as a babysitting service, Quinn?”
“Go in the kitchen, baby, and I’ll be there soon. We’ll make some more cookies.”
Abby slid from the booth, stopping. “Thanks, Farmer John. I had fun.” She moved a little closer. “I hope you’re not in trouble.”
I met her eyes, shaking my head. “It’s all good, Pumpkin.”
She scampered away. Quinn slid into the booth in the spot Abby had vacated. For some reason, her closeness made me nervous, and I knocked over my glass of water as I reached for it. It was almost empty, but a little spilled over the edge of the booth.
“Shit,” I cursed.
“Leave it. I’ll get the mop in a moment. I want to clear up your misconception first.”
I met her eyes.
Big mistake.
The seafoam green was like the ocean in a storm. Turbulent and angry.
“My daughter is my number one priority. Always. I had an appointment with the doctor and the insurance company, and my babysitter got sick. I had no choice but to either cancel the appointments or leave her here. For the first and only time. Tammy was watching her. I’m sorry if she bothered you. Since I didn’t know that hell had indeed frozen over, I wasn’t expecting you to be in here today. And I certainly didn’t expect to find you sharing your lunch with her. I assure you she is well-fed.” She took in a deep breath. “Consider your lunch on the house.”
“You were at the doctor? Are you okay?” I asked, ignoring the rest of her speech and concentrating on those words.
“I’m fine.” She waved her hands. “I slipped and jarred my hip.”
Tammy walked past. “And burned her arm on the grill.”
Without thinking, I lifted Quinn’s arm, inspecting the gauze-covered patch on her forearm. “You need to be more careful.”
“It was an accident, which rarely happens. You need to relax, Farmer John.”
“I’m plenty relaxed.”
She shook her head. “Two miracles today. You in here, and you smiling.” She regarded me as she slipped from the booth. “You’re very handsome when you smile.”
Her words caught me off guard, and I found myself sliding from the booth, standing close to her. “You shouldn’t say things like that.”
She shrugged. “I say what I see. You don’t smile very often, but you do when Abby is around.”
I dug my hand into my pocket. “I like her. And I’m paying for my lunch. I enjoyed my time with Abby. She ate a few fries and a couple bites of cake. No big deal.”
“You made her day.”
I shrugged.
“You’re very kind under all that bark, aren’t you?”
“Hardly.”
She smiled in disbelief and began to back away. Her foot caught on the water I had spilled, and with a gasp, she began to fall backward. I lunged forward, catching her and dragging her against my chest.
She stared up at me, startled. I gaped down at her, the sensation of holding her seeming extraordinarily right. The world stopped moving for a moment as our gazes held. Slowly, I stood, still holding her in my arms. I shook my head to clear it. “You’re an accident waiting to happen,” I growled, knowing I needed to step back. Move away from her.
I regretted my words as soon as they were out. Still, she smiled. That soft, gentle smile that did something to my chest.
I hated it.
“You saved me. Again.”
I stepped away, shaking my head. “Don’t read anything into it. It was my fault I spilled the water. Wouldn’t want you suing me or anything.”
“Thank you.”
She tilted her head, then rose on her tiptoes, placing her hand on my arm. I realized she was going to kiss my cheek. Instead of backing away, I turned my head so our mouths met.
Gently.
Sweetly.
It was as if a volcano erupted inside me, setting every nerve ending on fire. Desire tore through me. Longing that I had never experienced until now burst forth.
I jerked back, shocked.
I wanted her mouth back.
I wanted to yank her into my arms and kiss her until she was breathless.
Until she felt the same passion I was feeling.
Somehow, I found the strength to move away from her totally. I gazed down at her. Saw something I hadn’t noticed in those beautiful eyes before.
A quiet yearning.
One I didn’t dare address.
I flung some money on the table and rushed away before I gave in to my impulse and wrapped her in my arms again.
I hurried to my truck and drove away like the hounds of hell were pursuing me, one thought repeating itself in my head.
I had kissed her. Quinn. The woman who irritated me beyond anything else.
I had kissed her.
And I liked it.
Dammit.