6. Reid
Chapter 6
Reid
I FINISH TYING my laces and step outside the house, pretending as usual that I don’t see Willa as she squeaks and runs behind Agatha’s car in the driveway. This woman has no chance of being stealthy. She has to know I know she’s there, so why she insists on acting like she’s invisible is a complete mystery. But it’s cute. She’s cute.
She peeks around the car’s bumper, and while it takes everything in me not to wave at her, I continue my warmup to give her the illusion of control. She remains where she is as I jog down the stairs and kick into a run, heading deeper into the small neighborhood. Behind me, I hear the unmistakable click of a car door opening, and I grin as I spin to watch her scramble inside and start the engine.
Willa speeds off in the other direction, and I resume my run. This whole first week has been a whirlwind of getting used to the place. It turns out there’s a little more action in a small town than I figured there would be, but the action isn’t exactly what I expected. I have climbed a fire truck ladder to “rescue” a cat from its perch way up in a tree in the town square because the usual guys weren’t able to do it. (They were perfectly capable, of course; they liked watching me try to get a cat to do something it didn’t want to.) I’ve cited no less than twenty people for not having the requisite license to fish off the pier. I’ve checked the historical schoolhouse for a security breach, and I’ve reset the clock in the square—twice—from where it’s perpetually three minutes ahead. I can’t decide if it makes me miss Miami more or less.
I am absolutely certain this is Lucky’s way of hazing me, and honestly, it’s hard not to be charmed by it. The people themselves are far too nice, and even the tourists aren’t that bad. I’m definitely used to a... different pace in Miami. One that is much, much faster. A big perk to this temp gig is that it’s mainly day shifts. Sure, I’ve got to do some nights here and there, but considering I’m filling in for someone, it’s surprising.
Turning the corner, I increase my pace, grateful for the flat roads and relatively smooth sidewalks. Hell, I’m grateful that I can run without worrying some lackey from the Bunnies is going to show up and try to harm me. Or worse.
To hear my uncle talk, this position could be permanent if I wanted. The woman I’m filling in for will be back, of course, but he says they could use another set of hands. It’s tempting in a fantasy sort of way, because I can’t imagine not living in Miami. What would I even do around here? There aren’t a lot of restaurants, and there’s only one movie theater, to start with.
The real perk so far, if I’m being honest, has been Willa. I chuckle and wipe the sweat from my brow. I did not see this woman coming. How could I? I’ve spent the past decade surrounded by plastic in all its glory—and listen, there’s a lot to appreciate about how far plastic surgeons have taken their craft, no hate to the women and men who get work done—but Willa.
What a fresh breath of air.
Not gonna lie...I’m a little intrigued by her. Who wouldn’t be? She’s kind of a mess, but it’s adorable. The way she squeaks and increases her speed to get into her house e very single afternoon when I say hi to her from my backyard? The way she keeps hiding in the mornings and thinking I don’t see her when she’s leaving for work? The way she sings so badly in her house? There’s something about her that has me wanting more.
The art walk on Friday was something else. Willa did everything in her power to stay away from me so I could have time with Goldie, but I wanted time with her. Time she seemed determined not to give. Everyone seemed to know everyone, and they had warm smiles for Willa and Goldie, and flat-out curious ones for me.
And JJ. That ridiculous excuse for a journalist immediately had us on the front page of the town’s weekly newspaper. Although “newspaper” is a little aggressive for the rag. It’s a gossip column with a few advertisements here and there from local shops. And it’s six pages, tops. No wonder print journalism is having a tough time of it if people like JJ Jennings are the main source of it.
And if they have some kind of town Facebook page? Forget about it. I don’t ever want to know.
I turn another corner, this time back in the direction of my rental. I’ve already decided where I’m eating lunch.
It’s not hard to convince Uncle Jack to join me at the diner. At precisely twelve-forty-five, we’re bellying up to the counter, and my uncle is in full-fledged Chief Mac mode. Tom and Jerry, who I’m willing to bet are the source of most of JJ’s “articles,” eye me around Chief’s back. “How’s your first week been?”
I think of Willa, the cat, the clock, and all the fishing citations. “Interesting,” I decide to say .
Jerry chuckles. “I bet.”
“Seems like the clock is running ahead again.” Tom glances outside as if he can see it.
Spoiler alert: he can’t. Not only does the man wear glasses as thick as old Coke bottles, it’s also near the center of the town square, which isn’t remotely visible from here.
I grin. “Is it, now?”
Barbara shuffles over to us from behind the counter, her warm smile just like Goldie’s. “Good to see you, boys. Coffee?”
Chief says yes, but I ask for water. I look around Barbara and see Dean in the window. We exchange nods as he looks back down to his work.
A curse comes from the kitchen, and I know without question that it’s Willa. I can’t help the smile on my face, because I’m willing to bet she’s cussing at my appearance. I have never had this effect on anyone, and I absolutely love it.
The thing is, she doesn’t realize the effect she has on me.
When Barbara takes my order, I make certain to order the Patty Melt, then add guacamole and a fried egg just to rile Willa up.
Sure enough, Barbara sticks the order in the window and Willa is the one to grab it. Her hair is up in its customary ponytail, bangs hanging just a little too far into her pretty blue eyes, and her cheeks flush as she reads the ticket. The woman must be terrible at poker. She growls—it’s impossible not to hear it—and when she unleashes her glare out of the window, I’m right there to catch it.
I smile and wave.
I didn’t think it would be possible, but her cheeks get even brighter as her eyes widen. She’s been caught, and she looks embarrassed.
Yeah, she’s cute as hell.
My order comes exactly as I requested, and I’m almost disappointed she didn’t stomp around to drop it in front of me. But I take a bite, and I swear, this woman’s cooking skills are beyond this diner. She belongs in some kind of fancy restaurant, with little cook minions running around and muttering “Yes, Chef” to her every whim. It’s obvious.
When I’m certain she’s not paying attention to me, I say to Barbara, “I heard Willa studied at the Culinary Institute of America.”
Barbara’s face lights up. “Oh, yes! She did. Came back after just a few months, but we’d all love to see her go back. Get out of this town and really spread her wings, you know?”
“She’s fine,” Tom grumbles.
Barbara waves Tom off. “Ignore him. My daughter is too brilliant to be stifled by this town, aren’t you, Willa?” She directs that last part through the open window right as the woman in question slides an order toward her.
Willa raises her eyebrows. “I like it here, Mom.”
“You do not,” Barbara responds.
“I do.”
“No, you don’t.” Barbara frowns at Willa before turning back to me. “What are your plans while you’re here, Reid?"
There’s no mistaking the shift in her tone, and it’s one I’ve learned to identify well over the years: the Interested Mother of a Single Daughter. I adjust my seat and swallow the bite of Patty Melt that has no right tasting as good as it does.
“Just here to do my job, ma’am.”
She blushes and waves a rag at me. “Don’t call me ma’am—makes me feel old.” Then she leans in closer. “Didn’t you have a good time with Goldie at the art walk?”
And there it is. Make no mistake about it: For as much as Willa—and apparently Barbara—wants it to happen, Goldie had no more interest in me than I did in her. It was obvious. But small town or not, I know enough about families to realize that if Goldie’s not saying anything to her mom, neither will I. I offer up a noncommittal grunt, then kick my uncle’s leg to get his attention.
Chief Mac isn’t about to come to my rescue. He does the exact opposite. “Nothing wrong with a few dates while you’re here, Reid,” he says merrily. “And who knows? Maybe you’ll end up staying.”
I glare at him and make a mental note to take him off my Christmas list. “Right,” I drawl, then shove another bite of food in my mouth.
“Oh, wouldn’t that be exciting?” Barbara grabs the water pitcher to offer us all refills. “Having you here permanently will be wonderful.”
I don’t miss the way Willa’s attention perks up. I also don’t miss the way her shoulders droop infinitesimally when I say, “Just here for three months, ma’am.”