Chapter 5
Chapter Five
Laney
“It just kills me to not sample along with the customers. How do you stand it every shift?” I ask Ginny, the teenager I’m working a short shift with at Frozen Spoon. I love this ice cream shop, and it’s filled with memories of my life. Celebrations at the end of the school year, heartache after the boy I liked didn’t return my feelings, and just because it’s the weekend and ice cream is never a bad idea. Although Ginny laughs at my question, I don’t for one second believe she thinks I’m hilarious. She is more likely laughing at me than with me. I remember being a teenager and thinking anyone over twenty was ancient and ridiculous.
“You can sample. I won’t tell,” she promises. What she doesn’t know is that my one weakness in this world is ice cream. Specifically, a hot fudge sundae with nuts and a cherry. It’s not really a sundae if there’s no cherry. I’ll die on that hill.
“I can resist. I’m an adult and have the willpower to not indulge. Hard as it may be. I’m just glad I was able to help you out today.”
Ginny smiles and rests her hip against the counter and sighs. We’re in a bit of a lull now but the last hour has been crazy busy. Unfortunately, her co-worker rolled her ankle while sweeping and had to leave before her shift ended. I almost ignored the call when it came in, worried I’d miss Connie picking up my package. I’m only here a few hours until another employee can relieve me.
“You really were a life saver today. But why are you here? You’re like my mom’s age and have a job of your own, right?”
I suck in a breath. Her mother’s age. I mean, I guess I could be if I were a teenager when she was brought into the world. A very young teenager. Lifting my lips into what I’m sure looks like a deranged effort at a grin, I shake my head.
“I’m twenty-seven for goodness’ sake. And yes, I have my own job but I also am my own boss so I can set my own schedule. Besides, I like helping out the community. It may not seem like it now, but we’re blessed to live in Magnolia Grove.”
She scoffs and I chuckle. Whether it was the mom comment or that I simply do not have any willpower, I snag one of the mini spoons from the cup and dip it into the birthday cake flavor. I could and probably should be embarrassed by the moan of appreciation that falls from my lips but I’m not. That’s some damn good ice cream. I’d continue in my moment of bliss if a throat didn’t clear and scare me to the point my mini spoon goes flying.
Slowly, I open my eyes, one lid at a time hoping I won’t have to live in a constant loop of teasing. Nope. Maybe judgment but not teasing. I don’t think my neighbor, who I still don’t know his name, is the teasing sort. He’s once again wearing those damn sunglasses but today he’s added a ballcap. His jaw is clenched tight and confirms I was right on the money. Not a teaser. My eyes drift down his arm where his hand holds that of his little girl. A giggle bursts out of me as I take in the hat she’s wearing. Connie mentioned he spoke with the neighbor but hadn’t mentioned he gave the little one a hat like his. Her curls peek out from underneath the brim and two adorable dimples accompany her smile. She is the cutest thing ever. Not that I’d admit to Regan and Riley that thought ever existed.
Ginny is unusually quiet, her eyes on the man. I refuse to acknowledge his handsomeness. Or how the T-shirt he’s wearing looks like it’s been tailored to fit every ripple of muscle on his body. Not that I’m looking. No sirree. I’m a professional ice cream shop scooper and shall ignore all that he is.
Clearing my throat, I plaster on a sweet smile and greet our new customer. “Hi there. Did you get settled in okay? You’ve picked a great place for ice cream. Frozen Spoon is, in my opinion, the best in the state.”
Not unlike he was the day we met; he stares at me like he’s not quite sure what to make of me. I’m wearing my glasses today so maybe that’s adding to his confusion. Like he thinks he knows it’s me but isn’t one hundred percent sure. I don’t think I look too different with my glasses but maybe I’m wrong. While I’m contemplating my possible Clark Kent ability to look different with a pair of eyewear, the unsmiling man slips his sunglasses off and drops them in the collar of his shirt.
“Hi there. I like your hat,” I say to the sweet girl, her pink framed glasses still the cutest things ever. She smiles and looks at her dad. Is she asking for permission? Don’t tell me he’s some control freak or doesn’t allow her to speak to anyone. Not like I’m technically a stranger.
Eyes the color of the most decadent chocolate stare back at me. Ugh. Those are nice too. It’s really unfair that men can have such beautiful lashes. What a waste.
“I’m guessing that’s a gift from Connie.”
“Yeah. He uh, he stopped by on his route and gave it to her. It was his suggestion we come here. Said the banana split was the worth trying.”
“It is. Unfortunately, I am not skilled in the prep of that particular menu item. Ginny?” I turn to face my scooping partner only to find her staring at the man. She looks a bit like a largemouth bass if I’m being honest. I mean, he’s not bad to look at but his manners are less than ideal.
I lift my foot and tap Ginny’s leg. She startles and looks to me, eyes wide. “Ginny, I am not well versed in the banana split. Would you mind getting that started? I’ll ring up these folks while you do.”
She scurries off without a word and I hope she isn’t making a run for it. I need to get over to Jitterbug for a pick-me-up before I head to One More Page for job two of the day. If Ginny is making a run for it, I’ll have to let down the store owner, Savvy, and I hate disappointing my friends. Especially when it’s covering a shift at our local bookstore. Other than my greenhouse, I think it’s one of my favorite places in Magnolia Grove.
“Can I get you anything else?” I ask, moving to the large tablet and punching in the order.
“Maybe a water? Pep, why don’t you go find us a place to sit while I pay.”
The little girl skips away, and the man watches her climb into a booth. When he turns back around, he asks, “Would you mind adding a kids scoop of chocolate chip in a cup? I’m going to try and get her to share with me, but I like to have a backup just in case.”
“Of course. Better to be prepared. You called her Pep. Is that short for Peppermint?” Not that I think this man would name his child after a flavor but who knows. You hear about people naming their children after fruits and directions so maybe it isn’t too far-fetched.
I’ll ignore the little swoop my belly does at the sound of his laugh. It’s not a chuckle but a full laugh. With one brow raised and both hands resting on the counter, I wait for him to finish. I didn’t think it was that funny but clearly he does, because he’s wiping tears from his eyes. Taking a deep breath and I am absolutely not noticing the way his eyes crinkle as he smiles. And there is no way I’m aware of how pillowy his lips are. That would be weird.
“Wow. I didn’t realize how much I needed that. Thank you for making me laugh. It’s been a while. No, her name is not Peppermint. It’s Pepper. Well, that’s what she goes by.”
“Pepper. I like it. And you are? Salty?”
He laughs again, my dig gentle but with meaning. “Ryan.”
I extend my hand and smile. “Nice to meet you, Ryan, father of Pepper.”
There is absolutely no feeling running up my arm as his hand engulfs mine. The tips of his fingers are rough on my skin. It’s not displeasing. If I were to notice, which I’m not.
“Your total is sev... uhm, seven dollars,” I sputter as I gain my wits. Ryan smiles and although his beard hides a lot, I can still tell there are no matching dimples to Pepper. “If you’d like to join Pepper, I’ll bring over your treats in a few minutes.”
“Thanks. Laney, right?”
“Yep,” I reply, popping the “p” and hating how immature I sound. He’s some random guy with calloused fingers who took his daughter on a date. It’s not like he’s some sort of mythical creature, like a unicorn.
He walks away and settles into the booth, and I do everything I can for the next few minutes to ignore him. Once Ginny has the banana split finished, I take that with the scoop of chocolate chip over to the table with a simple, “Here you go.” And then I round the counter again, slipping the apron over my head.
“Laney, oh my goodness. Do you?—?”
“I’m here!”
Ginny doesn’t get to finish her question as another teen, Micah I think is his name, rushes in, drawing her attention. By the pinkening of her cheeks, I think Micah is more than a co-worker to her.
With the apron tossed toward Micah, I grab my purse, slinging it on my shoulder as I rush out of the shop toward Jitterbug. Like anytime I come to town, I encounter no less than four people who insist on stopping me to say hello and either ask about the Jubilee or how Uncle Freddy is enjoying his trip. Bless them for caring but really, we know they are all going to share notes with one another, why can’t they just send one representative?
By the time I’ve got my blended pick-me-up and plow through the doors of One More Page, my shirt is a little damp from the humidity and my speedwalking to get here. With a long draw from the straw, the frosty goodness rushes straight to my head and I groan with brain freeze. The customers turn toward me, and I wave them off with a very toothy, teeth gritting, smile.
Once I’ve gathered my wits and manage to stow my items behind the counter, I check in with the rest of the staff and get to work shelving books and other inventory. There’s something about the feeling of a book in my hands. It’s not as calming as dirt but there is so much power on these pages, regardless of the genre or type of book. I’m an equal topic bibliophile. It’s hard for me to find a resource or biography I don’t enjoy. It’s the academic in me, I’m sure. But fiction awakens a different part of my mind each time. Whether it’s a mystery or thriller that challenges me to analyze and problem solve, or, a beautifully written romance that gives me a direct shot of dopamine, I love losing myself in a good story.
Humming to myself as I read the back of a new romantic suspense book, I am not prepared for the question that is laced with accusation more than a request for assistance.
“Are you following me?”