Chapter 6
Now that she’d committed to seeing Julian while not on her route, Petula was regretting it.
Almost.
It could mean big trouble.
What if she ended up really liking him?
And what if Julian ended up not liking her?
Or what if they both established…feelings, and then she couldn’t act like a normal human being? A likely scenario, and one that—once Julian got a load of how fucked up she was—meant he definitely wouldn’t stick around, no matter the flirty little things he was happy doing right now.
Part of Petula understood that if she were ever to have a chance of moving forward, this might be her only shot; the most optimal scenario. But if it didn’t work? Well, damn. Her hazy daydreams of a normal life would come crashing down, never to be revived.
She almost turned the van around to tell Julian she’d changed her mind, but the part of her that was feeling weirdly determined denied her that opportunity, taking control of the wheel and pulling up to her next delivery site.
Fine.
She’d meet Julian tomorrow morning for coffee, then she’d tell him she couldn’t see him again.
It was woman’s prerogative, after all, to change her mind, and it was something that as an adult she’d allowed herself to do whenever she got too uncomfortable.
Now, however, it was time to get on with her day.
The following morning, after a very poor night’s sleep, Petula was up an hour earlier than usual, standing in the kitchen, becoming mesmerized by the drip-drip of the coffee maker.
When her brother walked in, she snapped out of her trance, and when she turned around he shook his sleep-mussed head at her and blinked twice.
“Petti? What are you doing up already? Is my clock on the fritz?”
“No, I…”
She’d thought about making an excuse for her early morning, but Stat would see right through that. It was better to go with the truth, than to get caught out. “I actually have a coffee meet-up with Julian before work.”
She was not going to call it a date.
Stat smiled gently. “That’s good, Petti. I’m proud of you.”
“Don’t be,” Petula snorted. “I’ve already decided to make this a one and done.”
By his instant scowl, she knew she had to explain.
“Stat, you understand. I know you do. The minute I accepted his invitation, I started being nauseous. And I slept like shit last night.” She looked at her brother with imploring eyes. “If this is how I feel about meeting over freaking donuts, there’s no way I can do anything…more intense.”
“Nobody’s asking you to,” he stated cautiously.
She knew he had additional things to say, so she waited.
“Petula. If this casual get-together feels at all good once you have it under your belt, you have to do it again. And again. And again until it finally feels normal. Then you work your way up to lunch.”
He ran a hand back through his hair; a nervous tic he’d had since leaving the Army.
“Have a month of lunches after that, if that’s what it takes.
Then if Julian sticks with you, shows you that he has patience, you’ll know he’s the real deal.
” He regarded her heavily. “If not? If he starts demanding more too soon, then you walk away.”
“I suppose you have an additional point?” Petula wasn’t happy that he was making sense.
“I do,” he affirmed before going on. “I don’t think a Sothard is going to be discouraged over a long courtship. That family is solid, and I don’t believe Julian is cut from a different cloth than the rest.”
Her breath caught. “You know that’s not always how it works, Stat,” Petula reminded him darkly.
“I do. But I also know we can’t live our lives stuck in the past. So, hear me out. Once you feel comfortable with Julian over however many daytime meals it might take, branch out. Head to a movie theater. Take hikes. Or even…go fishing,” he urged.
Okay. Stat was being a smartass now, and not exactly subtle.
Petula loved fishing even though she hated water. It had taken a long time, but she’d eventually learned to be comfortable being on the shores of various lakes and streams, and that was all due to Statler’s calm persistence.
“Nice metaphor,” she huffed amusedly. “I obviously get it. Fishing led to me tolerating being near a body of water. Coffee could lead to real dating. Slow assimilation.” She rolled her eyes.
“Good,” Statler nodded, finally looking happy. “It wasn’t my best analogy, but I’m still waking up. Wait until after my coffee and I can do better if you need me to.” He walked to the machine that had finished brewing, and poured himself a cup.
Right. She’d forgotten all about the coffee.
“You want one?” he asked, picking up a second mug.
“Nah. I’ve changed my mind. The last thing I need is to be even more jittery than I am already. So, no thanks.”
He turned and regarded her with a brotherly eye.
“Okay. Fine. Sooo… Are you, uh, wearing that?” he asked, pointing at her brown and tan uniform.
Petula looked down at herself. “Well, yeah. I have to work right after I see Julian. Why do you ask?”
“Because…you look really good in civies, and he hasn’t seen you dressed like a regular person. So…”
A huff escaped from between her lips. “Stat, please. Give me a break. I’m dipping my toes in here, not plunging into the deep end.”
“Okay. Okay. I get it.” He sighed. “And on that note, I have to grab a shower before I head off to work.”
He and his crew were putting the finishing touches on a new car dealership just outside of town.
“Have a great morning,” he said with a wag of his finger. “I’ll be waiting to hear all the details tonight.”
Yeah. He would. Her brother loved some good gossip. He and his employees were always spinning yarns and creating intrigue, even if it was made up on the fly to amuse each other.
Watching her brother walk away, Petula chewed on her lower lip. Should she change out of her uniform into something more…normal? She could always pack up her browns and put them on in the ladies’ room later.
Nope. She was not pandering.
Petula squared her shoulders. Julian would take her or leave her just the way she was, or he wasn’t worth the trouble.
Poised to go, a thought hit her brain.
A spot of make-up wouldn’t hurt.
Before she could talk herself out of it, Petula headed down the hall to her bathroom, pulling out a box of items she hadn’t used in…
Rats. Could it have been three whole years since their cousin in Wichita got married? That was the last time she’d decided to gussy up.
Yikes, she was a sad, sad case.
With new resolve, Petula pulled out blush, eye shadow, and mascara, determined to at least feel extra pretty this morning.
As she inexpertly applied the cosmetics, she pondered her hair. Up like usual, or down?
Up. Definitely.
She didn’t want to make it look like she was going to too much trouble.
Ten minutes later, Petula almost made it out the door without running into her brother, but in her flustered state, she’d forgotten the sandwich she’d made for lunch. Sneaking back to the kitchen, she grabbed the bag from the fridge and turned around swiftly, running head-first into a hard chest.
“Damn, Stat. I hate it when you do that sneaking up thing.”
The man was six-two to her five-three, and was grinning like a fool as he looked down at her. “Speaking of sneaking, I smelled perfume, and wondered who’d snuck into our house.”
So, sue her. She’d decided to smell good. It was none of his business.
“Hah, hah. You’re a riot.”
“I am. And now I see that you’ve also done something girly to your face,” he snickered. “Go get ‘em, tiger,” he encouraged with a smirk.
“You’re an ass,” Petula grumbled.
“Nope.” Stat stepped close and gently surrounded her with one of his big, warm hugs. “Just a brother who’s got high hopes for the sister he loves, and is feeling a bit…giddy.”
Giddy was not a term she’d ever heard come out of her “take no prisoners” brother’s mouth, but she got it. He was excited for her.
She hoped she didn’t let him down.
“I want to make sure you know I’m actually trying, here,” Petula emoted softly into his flannel shirt. “Because it would be so easy to self-sabotage.”
“Uh, uh. No deliberately fucking this up,” he chided tenderly. “It looks like a man has finally caught your attention, and for that I’m beyond happy.” His voice grew firm. “But if he hurts your feelings in any way, you only have to let me know and I’ll come beat the crap out of him. Got it?”
Now Petula chuckled. “Down, boy. Down. You know those Sothards. He’s not going to purposely do anything to upset me. But…” She had to state her worries one more time, “…he can’t be blamed if he can’t handle all the skeletons in my closet.”
“Let’s not borrow trouble. It’s early yet. Go.” Statler pulled away and turned her toward the door with a mild push. “Drink coffee. Have fun.”
“I’ll try.”
Petula’s first impulse, as she pulled up in front of the Bear’s Claw, was to drop her car back in gear, drive to the gas station down the block, run into their bathroom, and scrub her face clean.
She glanced at the coffee shop.
Rats.
Julian had arrived before her. Of course he had. And he was already sitting at a table, waving to her from his seat by the window.
Suck it up, Petti, she told herself. It’s only an hour.
Actually, it would be forty-five minutes, tops, since she had to drive to the UPS hub and pick up her truck that would be loaded by the time she punched in.
She could do this. She could.
She returned Julian’s wave, then grabbed her keys from the ignition. Petula sucked in a fortifying breath, pasted a smile onto her face, and got out of the car. She walked slowly to the front door as if it were a gallows march, pushed her way into the already bustling place, and…
Julian stood, giving her a real smile as he pulled out her chair.
“You look beautiful today,” he stated sincerely, then hastily added, “Not that you don’t always, but I can tell you’ve done something different.” He looked puzzled, perusing her, as would a guy who’d grown up without sisters around to clue him in.
“It’s just a little make-up,” she told him as she sat. “I do it every now and then to change things up.” There was no need for him to think she’d made the effort on his behalf.
His mouth twitched a little as he took the chair opposite hers.
Right. He knew she was full of shit.
“So, I haven’t ordered yet,” he told her, letting her off the hook. “I figured I’d wait until you got here, then I’d do it for both of us.”
“Just coffee. Black, please,” Petula told him.
His brows rose. “Seriously? This is the Bear’s Claw. You’re not going to indulge in one of their fantastic pastries or muffins?”
She did love the establishment’s honey-dipped Danish, but the overly-large confections were always messy to eat, and she was trying to make a good impression.
“Umm… A plain donut?” she managed.
Before Julian could respond to that, a voice carried from across the shop.
“Bothswait! You’re early. And without boxes.
” A male voice she knew well, met her ears.
She looked up, and sure enough, the customer line had wound down and Nate was glancing from her to Julian then back again, a shit-eating grin on his lips.
“You want your regular for here today, instead of to go?” he teased.
Petula wanted to groan. Nate was a great kid who had worked behind the counter for the past couple years, and knew exactly what she always ordered. Normally, it made her happy. But not today, dammit.
“Your regular?” Julian repeated, amusement causing his dimples to pop out.
Caught.
“Yeah,” she admitted with a shake of her head. “Black coffee and a honey-dipped Danish.”
Julian winked and walked to the counter. The place wasn’t that large, so she could hear him, clearly.
“Petula will have her regular, and I’ll have a—”
“Espresso mocha-latté, with cinnamon and brown sugar sprinkles, with a corn muffin, toasted, slathered in butter. And… Petula, huh?” Nate sent a triumphant look over Julian’s shoulder, his eyes twinkling.
The sassy barista had been trying to guess what the P stood for, since his very first day of work.
She heard Julian laugh.
“Yup. Petula.”
Great. Not that it was a big deal. She hoped. If word got out, it would be all over town before nightfall, and so much for maintaining any kind of anonymity.
“Nice call, Nate,” Julian continued. “I’ve only been around for a few weeks, and you already know exactly what I like,” Julian responded.
“That’s how I make the big bucks,” Nate joked back, giving Julian a wink before he got straight to work on their order.
As soon as it was up, Nate put their things on a tray, and Julian carried it back to the table after leaving him a big tip.
Maybe it did pay to suck up to the customers.
Julian pointed as he sat down. “That Danish looks good. I might have to try it sometime.”
“And miss out on all that butter?” Petula teased, amazed at the amount on his corn muffin. The thing was practically swimming.
“You’re right,” Julian responded, not the least bit embarrassed as he dipped his finger into a side-puddle, putting it up to his mouth to suck it clean.
“Since I discovered this, I can’t start my day without one.
” He picked the enormous thing up and took a huge, appreciative bite, also unconcerned when some of the oil dripped down his chin.
He chewed, swallowed, laughed, then picked up a napkin to mop himself off. “Sorry. I always make a mess.”
Petula narrowed her eyes. Was he doing this on purpose because he knew she was hesitant to cover her face in honey-dip?
Her guess was, yes.
Damn. The man was observant.
She was going to have to watch herself, moving forward. If she wasn’t careful, he’d have every one of her secrets laid bare on the table before she’d so much as opened her mouth.