Chapter Two
Paige
Unpacking is the absolute worst.
Then again, filling my new place with things from my life is kind of cool. It is my very first place and I want to make it mine. I want you to know when you walk in that this is my space, these are my things, and this is where I am in life. How much I have grown, what I have accomplished for myself.
“Pour some sugar on me,” I shout the words to the new Def Leppard song as I spin around the small living room of my new studio apartment.
Laughing at the image I make in my leotard, pleated skirt, and bunched socks, I pose for a moment. I am happier than I have been in a long time, excited to start a life here in Pine Grove. Leaving Sunset Springs was not a simple choice—but it was the right one for me.
Growing up with everything tends to override things. A breakup or losing first place in a beauty pageant went over easier because you can buy all the ice cream you want or drink as much whiskey as you desire to chase the pain away. If you crave something, a trip to a beautiful island or skiing in the mountains, you just go.
Until not enough ice cream or ski trips can chase away the emptiness.
“Where did you say you were going?” My mother wondered as I packed my room at their estate. An estate—regal enough with high stone walls, too many bedrooms for us to fill, and sprawling grounds, it seemed smaller than this little loft.
“Somewhere else. I want to do it on my own, mother. I want to make my own choices, do what I want to do, not what is expected of me.”
Mother drained her martini with a wry twist of her mouth, giving just a nod. A brief show of agreement. It was never her dream to wed a man with generational wealth who could give her everything she wanted. Her dream had been simple—to become a teacher and make a difference.
My father was a good man who adored us both. He just had too high of expectations for us. We were free spirits who wanted to see things change, who wanted to impact that change with our words, with our efforts, and with our choices. I am not sure yet who I want to be, but I want a chance to figure it out on my own.
Dancing across the loft that is all mine, paid for with my own money—a year in advance even—I am excited. This cute town is perfect for a new start. Pine Grove has the best mall in the area, a great gym, a skate rink, an arcade, and plenty of other cool things going for it. It will be where I have a good time, figure myself out, and start a life, wherever that will lead me.
“Can’t do any of that on an empty stomach, Paige,” I tell myself as my stomach growls.
Heading to the kitchenette, I laugh when I open the door. A six pack of Tab, a few Hostess pudding pies, and leftover pizza. My cabinets seem just as sparse. Smiles cookies, two boxes of POPs, with no milk available, and some Wrinkles fruit snacks. Grabbing one of those for the road, I head out to find a watering hole.
Driving through Pine Grove it starts to pour down rain. I don’t mind it. It makes it harder to navigate a town I’ve been in for just a few days, but I welcome the cool breeze and the fresh scent of rain. Seeing a neon sign blinking in the distance, I pull up in front of a boxy diner. Over the door hangs a burger and a shake, blinking white and purple in the darkness.
“Please have bacon,” I murmur aloud as I rub at my soft tummy. “Some perfectly cooked bacon would hit the spot right now.”
Food has always been a difficult topic. Loving it the way I do has kept me in double digit sizes, out of the pageants my mother wanted me to win, and single for most of my life. It took me a long time for me to accept I am who I am. I love life, I love food, and now I love myself too.
Shopping can be hard or going to a movie in a seat that feels too snug. Sometimes I wonder if a man might ever see me as good enough, with my curves, dimples, and soft tummy, to give a damn about. If not, I guess I have to give a damn about myself. I can do that. I can totally take care of myself and be whoever I am meant to be without a man telling me I can.
“Bacon sounds good. Oh, and fries!” I decide aloud as I head inside, getting totally soaked on my way. “Holy cannoli!”
I laugh as I step inside the little diner, blinking at the bright neon lights after the gray night. Someone shouts a hello and I look up to see a woman about my age with bright green and pink hair. Smiling at me, she tells me to take a seat wherever I want. Shaking myself off, I take the first seat I see at the U-shaped counter, taking a menu from the stack.
Scanning the choices, my breathing changes as a stroke of heat runs through me. Fluffing my hair anxiously, I glance left and right. Nothing. No one is there. Looking up, I almost drop the menu. Because oh boy, is there someone there. Standing behind the counter, smoke billowing around him is the most attractive man I have ever seen.
Dark hair frames a handsome face with bright blue eyes paired with thick lashes, a strong jaw, and a slightly crooked nose. Even from here I can see some freckles marking his skin and I decide they make him even more attractive. His full, pink mouth is moving to the words of a rock song humming from the back. With a pink bandana tying back his thick, dark hair, showing off a scar through his left brow and how beautiful his eyes are, he could be a rock star.
But no, he is flipping burgers and tossing fries. My heart rate kicks into overdrive when he pauses his fluid movements to stare back at me. I smell stale coffee, fried foods, and something sweet as the air zaps back and forth between the two of us. His golden skin turns ruddy as he stares longer, something sparking in his eyes. Heat. Interest. A little bit of hope.
Smiling at him, I tuck some crimped hair behind my ear. My fingers tug at a strand, and I twist it, looking away shyly. When I look back, he is gone. The colorful, loud waitress asks for my order, and I decide to go for broke. I am celebrating a new life here, who cares about calories?
“How about two pieces of French toast, some French fries, and at least five pieces of bacon. Can I do that?” Blinking at the unusual order, I start to consider the calories before I see the cook again. Grinning at me, he nods. Whatever it is about my order, he seems to approve. Good. I want to eat what sounds good and right now, all that bad-for-me stuff sounds so good.
Sitting there watching him cook my meal feels almost intimate. There are a handful of others in the diner, some eating, some sipping coffee. None of them even register as I watch him work. He spins back and forth, cooking on a griddle, the steam flushing his skin. Turning back, he dumps thick, hand cut fries in a fryer and the sizzle has him jump back. I laugh because he seems to be having such a good time back there.
Closing my eyes for a moment, I let myself daydream. It is one of my favorite things to do. Dream up something impossible and consider how I might make it possible. Him serving me the food instead of the waitress, asking why I chose the strange mix of food. Asking me how much I like it.
Heat blooms between my thighs as I think this. Because I would like it so much, wouldn’t I? Food made for me by someone so handsome, someone who seems to love food the way I do. He would tease me about the fries, offering me one with a heated look in his eyes. It would be much more than a fry he would be offering me, but I would nibble at it to tease him back.
“Here you go, doll face,” a voice screeches my daydream to a stop.
Blinking up at the waitress with the bright hair, I nod. I am dazed, breathing fast, skin damp. I am turned on thinking about that hot cook feeding me. Beneath the counter, I rub my thighs together, flushing as I glance around a bit shyly. Looking up again, I see him watching me, as if truly wanting to know how much I will like his food. I shove a hot, salty fry in my mouth and I almost moan. It is that good. Or maybe it tastes so good because he is watching me eat. I can’t be sure, but I don’t care.
Taking a small bite of the French toast, I almost swoon at how sweet and crispy it is. If he is trying to wow me with his food, it is working. Can we flirt with food? I wish we could. I would eat anything this man cooked. I pop half a piece of bacon in my mouth, savoring the saltiness of it.
“Your cook is amazing.” I tell the colorful waitress.
“Oh, totally girl. Pierce is a bitchin’ cook. I call him a chef, because what he can make back there is too good to call him just another cook. He was born to cook if you ask me. And girl, is he not a total babe, too?”
Flushing, I glance up towards where he is half-hidden. To my dismay he is not there. “Yeah. He is the prettiest cook I have ever seen,” I answer.
“You new here, babes?”
“Yeah. I’ve never been here.... oh wait., you mean here as in here, in Pine Grove. Yes. Been here less than a week. Loving is so far.”
Darting a look back towards the kitchen, I spot him again. Pierce. Gosh that is a perfect name for someone who looks like that. He is so pretty. I saw plenty of handsome men in military in Sunset Springs, but he is a brand-new type of good looking. There is something a little dangerous, a little uncertain about him that intrigues me.
Our eyes clash just as a tiny fluff of a kitten pops her head out of his shirt. I almost laugh. Pierce is a big guy, brawny, with a slight scowl on his handsome face. Yet when that kitten pops up and meows at him, his entire face lights up. He grins as if he has been caught, holding a finger to his lips. I almost swallow my own grin because he wants to share a secret with me?
I would keep any secrets Pierce wanted to share.
Flushing again because who is this girl being so flirtatious with a man she has never me, I bow my head. Deciding this is my new life, a new start, I do something bold. Taking the pink ticket for my meal, I scribble down my new number and my name. If he calls, he calls. If not, at least I know a good place to get some amazing French toast and the best fries I’ve ever had.
Putting a twenty down for my meal, hoping they split the tip, I head back out. It is still raining but I take my time walking to my car. The little VW Bug was my big splurge with my trust fund money before the move here. Well, that and the cost of the move, including that full year of rent. I wanted no reason to run back to Sunset Springs.
“You can love them without needing them,” I tell myself as I park outside my new place.
As I am climbing from the little bug with a full stomach, and a smile on my face, I hear a meow. At first, I think I imagine it. Until I hear it again. Turning, I am stunned. I could be knocked over by a feather. There Pierce, the hot, amazing cook, stands, holding that cute ball of fluff.
“H-hey, Pierce.” I stammer as I bounce on my heels.
“Paige,” his voice murmurs my name as if he is whispering a secret. I remember the secret from earlier and smile. “Hey. You’re....you just...I mean I’ve never...what’re you doing here?”
Blinking at him, I frown. It hits me as he stands there with a key in the same hand cuddling the kitten to his chest. He lives here too. We’re going to be neighbors. How could this happen? I flirt with someone for the first time ever and now I cannot escape him. What if he is totally grossed out by me flirting? Oh, no, what if he thinks I came here to wait for him?
“Living here. I-I mean, I just moved in. Well have been moving in for a few days. I’m new. I just got here. To Pine Grove. I came from Sunset Springs. I am not here for you. What I mean is,” I rush on in a mess of words and useless information he never asked for. “I guess we’re neighbors?”
Saying it like a question, I tilt my head as I wince. I am so embarrassed! This would just be my luck. I must be coming off as such a total loser. What was I thinking trying to flirt earlier? Leaving my number? Pierce chuckles and my face flames hot. Is he laughing at me now?
“Neighbors. Good. Now I don’t have an excuse not to call,” he says, crushing me with one sentence. He must see my wounded ego. “No. No that did not come out...what I meant is now I can...do you want a kitten?”
Pierce thrusts the kitten at me with a sheepish smile. I am still a bit hurt by his brush-off. It is what I ought to have expected. Reaching out, I take the kitten, nodding without giving an answer. We stare at one another for a moment before I turn and head inside, clutching the kitten to my chest.
Deciding a kitten is better than nothing, I rush inside before he can see my tears.