4. Takeout Date
4
TAKEOUT DATE
SOPHIE
I hadn’t meant to skip dinner. But in my defense, branding the entire future of a craft brewery empire while resisting the temptation of its brooding, beardy owner had taken more brain power than expected this week.
My stomach growled like a beast as I entered Flora’s Diner. I pushed the door open, greeted by the heavenly scent of fried something and baked everything. Inside, the air was warm, humming with conversation and the clatter of dishes.
This was the kind of place that made you nostalgic for a small-town life.
I doubted Keaton could tell that I’d once been a small town girl from Pennsylvania. Back when my parents were still together, when I was young—before Mom and I left my father, being the abuser that he was. After the divorce, she’d made her way to New York, with me in tow, hoping to make it big in the field of graphic design. Times were tight for a single mother in the city, and as much as she tried to hide it, I knew there were nights where she gave up her dinner for me.
About the only thing I recall of those years before she met my stepfather was how often she promised me things wouldn’t always be so tough.
I hadn’t thought about those nights in a long time. But sitting here now, in a town where people knew your name and offered you a comforting place, hit me harder than expected.
I smoothed my pale blue linen top over my denim cutoffs, and tried to remember if I’d run a brush through my hair before leaving the guest house. Not that it mattered. This was a quick in-and-out, grab my dinner and pie and go. Of course, that’s assuming I could get away without Flora dragging me into conversation.
“Evening, honey,” Flora called from the counter. She looked great, like a grandma, but with just enough sass to run a biker gang out of town. I’d met her years prior, on freshman move-in day, when she brought Maisy to Columbia. As roommates go, I got lucky; Maisy became my best friend. And Flora was the motherly figure I needed right then, while mine was jetting off around the world with husband number three. “Your order’s just about ready. Sit here.”
I did as she asked and before I knew it, she’d put a diet cola and a cookie in front of me while I waited.
“Chelsea told me you were staying in town for a while. I’m so glad to see you, dear. How is everything?” With a warm smile, she patted my hand.
“Fine. Good to see you, too.”
“She said you’re working with Keaton now? Oh, he’s such a nice man.”
“He is.” And if I didn’t know better, I’d say she was a fan of his too, judging by her dreamy eyes. That was the thing about Keaton with all his guy next door brooding brewer charm. Easy on the eyes. Easy to like. He’d never have made it on the TV show as a villain. He was the good guy from the start—and captured the hearts of women across the nation who fell for his golden retriever personality across a dozen episodes.
“Did you see Maisy’s latest photo drop? She’s gotten so tan. Island life must be paradise. I miss her.” I could forgive her for leaving without me only because she was finally with the love of her life—Brooks. And that made me happy. They were good together and meant to be. I had no idea if I’d ever find a love like theirs, but I’d be just as happy to sit on the sidelines and cheer them on for life.
“Me, too. I’ve been worried sick she’s never coming back, but then last night she called. They’re sailing and will be in town in July. And…” She wiggled her eyebrows. “She says they have news.”
“Oh, wonder what it is?” Maisy hadn’t sent me a message yet about any of that, but the minute she was back in town, I’d hopefully get a girls’ night with her to catch up.
“I suspect it’s one of two things. Either he proposed or she’s with child. Both would make me happy. Then my girls would at least be settled. Colt, however, is another matter entirely.” She sighed, her worry lines deepening. Having been around the Calhoun family enough over the years, I knew the depth of their family love.
A far, far cry from my own family.
“Have you heard anything from Colt? I know the two of you are friends,” she inquired. And yes, we had been friendly before he entered the Navy. Anymore though, all we did was trade funny memes by email.
“I’m sure he’ll be fine when he gets back home, Flora.” What else could I possibly say to help leave her fears behind?
“Order’s up,” the cook called out behind her, and she left me there to peruse her daily dozen list of pies available. The woman knew how to make a mouth water with her baking.
“Here we go.” She set two bags on the counter, and I grabbed the one for me with my name across it.
“Thanks, Flora. We’ll talk more soon.” I waved and turned—and almost rammed right into Keaton’s chest.
“Oh, hi.” My breath caught and my hand landed on his pec. The muscle flexed and reacted to my touch, where a thousand jolts of electricity ignited. He wore a black t-shirt with the old Hops logo that clung just enough to his body to suggest he’d lifted a million kegs today. His hair was tousled like he’d run a hand through it fifty times. And don’t get me started on his eyes penetrating into me.
“Imagine seeing you here,” he replied, eyes scanning my face down to my lips in a way that felt entirely unprofessional.
“You’re stalking me now, Keaton?” I teased, enjoying the warmth of our contact a little too much.
“Obviously. You’re hard to miss in this town.”
Flora cleared her throat. “Your order is here.”
He chuckled, low and rough, and stepped to the side to grab the bag. “Picking up dinner, too?” he asked.
“Yep. Long day.” I shrugged. “You know, rebranding your empire, setting up marketing campaigns, and making your dreams come true. The usual.”
“You make it sound so easy. I’m glad to have an expert like you on the case.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Careful, Kingston. That almost sounded like flirting.”
Flora interrupted. “Dinner for two done at the same time? You even ordered the same peach pie for dessert. You want to stay and eat together, too?”
Keaton and I exchanged a look.
“Oh no,” I said quickly, holding up a hand. “This is takeout. Strictly solo. I have a date with my laptop and a spreadsheet that refuses to behave.”
“Same,” he muttered. “Tap lists and a temperature gauge that thinks it’s funny to display ten degrees hotter thanks to the summer heat.”
Then, out of nowhere, he tilted his head and said, “Or... we could skip the sad solo dinners. I know a place. Great view.”
My eyebrows shot up. “Are you inviting me out?”
“It’s not a big deal, Sophie. Just a hill on the edge of town with a good view. You’re new here, and it’s one of the top five sights in Holly Creek, according to the tourist bureau’s brochure.”
I feigned shock. “Be still my marketing heart.”
He gave me a look. That one where the corner of his mouth twitched and his eyes went warm for half a second. It was unfair. And ridiculously effective. I was unprepared for this onslaught of Keaton charm.
“You in or not?” he asked.
I should’ve said no. “Lead the way, Kingston.”
The drive was short, winding up a quiet road I hadn’t taken before. At the top of the hill, the world opened up, revealing a carved stone stage and tiered seating nestled into the hillside. As the sun was getting ready to set, the lights twinkled in the valley below, scattered across Holly Creek like someone had flung glitter carelessly across a map.
“Gorgeous view,” I said as I stepped out of my car parked behind his truck, takeout bag in hand.
“It’s where we used to do Shakespeare in the Park.”
“We?” I lifted a brow.
“Yep. Thanks to my high school debate and drama coach. Some of my early thespian work was performed right here. But the coach retired. Now it’s mostly used for proposals and high school make-out sessions. Or for two, uh… colleagues grabbing a bite to eat. Follow me.”
We climbed to the top tier and sat on one of the stones. The air was cooler up here; the breeze carrying a hint of pine and whatever wildflowers managed to survive the heat.
We set about eating—a chicken salad for me, and a burger wrap for him—and of course I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to know more about his acting career. Okay, I admit I sort of stalked his social media accounts, infatuated with him since his show first aired, but not once did news of his past interest in acting come up.
“So, you had the acting bug early in school? Is that why Brewed for Love appealed?” I asked.
“I suppose it solved a latent fantasy about becoming an actor.”
“Really? Why aren’t you in New York or L.A. capitalizing on all your recent reality star fame?”
“I lived in New York for a while after high school, attending college there, studying theater. I landed some off-off-Broadway shows, even one off-Broadway. But after just a few years of the hustle and the grind, I came back home for a rest. I got into making beer with my dad, and I guess my interests changed. The dream of building Hops was something in my control; I didn’t have to rely on a producer or director telling me what I was worth. So, I stayed, built something of my own, and here I am. No regrets.”
My mouth dropped, finding this out about him. “Oh, shoot.” A piece of lettuce doused in ranch dressing tumbled off my fork and down the front of my shirt. I hunted through my bag for a napkin, but he passed me one of his instead. Hard to act cool and not fan all over him when he’s just revealed the roots of his acting talent.
“Why not start up a drama group here and put on some plays in the summer?” I asked, in order to draw his interest away from me pawing at the ranch stains.
“It’s on my bucket list. What about you? Tell me something interesting from your past.”
“What?”
The past? Even my best friend, my soul sister Maisy, didn’t know certain things from my past. I laughed nervously. “Tell you what. We’ll play two truths and a lie.”
“Okay. I’m game. And if I win, I’ll show you another of the top five sights to see in Holly Creek the next time we serendipitously meet up at Flora’s for dinner.” His soft lips, framed by dark whiskers, drew into a teasing curve.
“Deal.” I thought for a moment, then proceeded ahead. “Number one. I’m an heiress in hiding. Number two, I haven’t had a decent date with a guy in five years. And number three… I hate board games. Which is the lie?”
He choked on a laugh and rolled his eyes. “You made it too easy. Obviously number one.”
“You don’t think I could be an heiress in hiding?” Interesting.
“If you were, then Holly Creek would be a great place to stay for a while.” He finished his main dish, and I had to agree with him. Holly Creek was a great town to hide away from my past. He continued, “Five years of dating disappointment? Now that I can believe. Dating isn’t easy?—”
“Says the man who tried a dating reality show,” I quipped.
“And failed,” he was quick to remind me with a snicker. “As for board games… I can understand that. In this day and age of games on our phones, it’s hard to go back to checkers or Monopoly. Although I happen to be a board game collector. So, I’m going with the hiding heiress as the lie.”
The truth was… each statement held a little of my truth in them. But I wasn’t about to confess how much. I went with his guess. “You’re right. Someday, you get to show me another one of the five wonders of Holly Creek.”
“I love winning.” He winked, as I finished my salad.
“Must have really hurt like hell the night you lost Brewed for Love?” I recalled how the cameras focused on the tears in his eyes back then during the interview in the car ride after he lost.
Telling by the way his jaw clenched, I struck a nerve.
“Yeah, but honestly, I was more pissed at Starla,” he admitted.
I couldn’t agree more; he had every right to be with the way she caused so much drama on that show. “You should have been with Cassandra in the end, not Starla. Many people online said how you got cheated out of the win. I couldn’t believe the comments on social media the night you lost.”
“That’s all in the past and, sadly, available to rehash online any time. But enough about me.” He shrugged, like it mattered little anymore or else he didn’t want to talk about it. “Let’s talk about how five years is a long time to not have a decent date. Tell me about that. ” He leaned his hands back on the boulder, his face tilted toward the sky, tempting the giddy fan inside of me to take in every inch of his profile.
I’d rather not admit to him that eating dinner at a scenic overlook beside him in this small town was better than all the dates in my past combined.
I laughed him off instead. “I think we can save dating horror stories for another time.”
“Okay. Noted and I’ll hold you to that. So, what’s your favorite so far? Of my beers, I mean.”
“Honestly? The floral IPA. It’s light, crisp, just the right amount of surprising. I think it’d be an excellent candidate for renaming it to Hoppy Field of Dreams.”
“Are you always this poetic about alcohol?”
“About anything. Especially when it’s really good. “
“That being the case, later this week I’ll have you try a new pumpkin spice I’m working on.”
“Perfect. How did you know I’m a fan of pumpkin spice latte and anything fall-related?”
“Lucky guess.” His smile smoldered on me while the sun was on its final descent, the colors in the sky picture-worthy. I shifted my gaze to the horizon before my butterflies jumped out of my stomach and flew away. We sat in silence for a few minutes, the kind that doesn’t press or prod, but feels like something. I took some photos of the sunset until it was nothing but a sliver.
“Any regrets about doing Brewed for Love?” I asked.
“None. The money I made and the exposure have helped build my business. I may not have come away with love, but I ended with so much more.” His confidence so appealed, and my stomach flipped again.
Maybe a few months from now, I’d take him and anything he said to me in stride, unaffected by his charm, his scent, his subtle smiles under the whiskers, hell, his entire aura. But being around him, for now, drove my heart wild.
We reached for the pie at the same time. Our hands brushed. The electricity sparking between us shocked me. I gasped.
“Sorry,” I said, pulling back.
“No worries.” He handed me the pie with that same ureadable grin. “We’ll call it a tie.”
I took it, heart thundering. If he was any other man, any other night, this might be a perfect first date. And I’d even let him lean over right now and kiss me, then take me home and do anything to me he wanted. Or I wouldn’t be beyond making the move on him myself.
I’d finally break my five-year record of dating disasters.
But this wasn’t a date. We weren’t taking this thing any further than the mild flirtation it initially was.
The moment was quiet again, but this time it pulsed, charging the air between us.
“This was nice, having dinner like this,” I said softly. “Unexpected, but nice.”
He nodded, his eyes on mine. “Yeah. We probably shouldn’t make it a habit, though, since we’ll be working together.”
“Definitely not,” I agreed, even if I already wished we could.
Above us, the sky shifted to deep violet, stars winking into view like they were watching. Waiting to see what we would do.
That told me it was time to leave. I’d save my dessert for later tonight, and my sanity, when I was alone in my bed, thinking of him with every bite.