Chapter 6
Chapter Six
Winnie
When I wake up I have the classic “where am I?” reaction. For a brief, delicious moment I think I’m in my own apartment after my first night in my new town.
Only that would mean somehow the moving fairies unloaded my truck, set up all my furniture, and used their wings to fly me there and tuck me under the covers.
Which would have been amazing, but didn’t happen.
My apartment is sitting cold and empty still.
I’m in Ian’s bed.
In his comfortable, if a little un-lived in looking, house.
I do a hangover check by turning my head left and right. Not too bad. Sitting up, I chug the water he left for me on the nightstand and stretch. While Barrel snoozes away, I glance around the bedroom.
It looks like a short-term rental. Bedding from a bag. Matching furniture. A few framed prints on the wall of generic landscapes. It’s very clean and the bed was comfortable but there isn’t any soul to Ian’s bedroom.
Downstairs, Ian is sleeping on the couch still, his arm over his eyes to block the emerging sun. The blanket has slipped down and he’s sleeping shirtless. My mouth goes dry and it’s not from last night’s mint juleps.
Ian obviously finds time to hit the gym. His abs are so chiseled I want to just trail my tongue down the outline and right to his…
I cough a little as warmth seeps through my entire body, settling between my legs. Even my hair feels hot.
And it’s not just the way he looks. If he’s a workout guy, then we have something in common, right? Something more than the nothing I thought we had in common last night.
Realizing I’m just standing there staring at him, I tiptoe past before I accidentally wake him up.
Barrel has no such reservations. Without warning he does a flying leap.
“Barrel, no—
“Oof!” Ian jerks awake as Barrel lands on his stomach.
“Sorry! Barrel, down!”
Barrel ignores me. We’ve only been together six months and I’ve been putting training off until he felt comfortable with me. I’m pretty sure he’s the most comfortable dog I’ve ever met so I really should devote some time to training because he does not listen.
“He’s fine,” Ian says, voice gravelly and grumpy and oh-so-sexy. “Are you going somewhere?”
Morning voice.
It’s my kryptonite.
As is a man who genuinely likes my dog.
“Going for a run. I was going to put Barrel in my apartment and grab my running shoes.”
“Just leave him here.” Ian scratches behind his ears while Barrel stretches out across Ian’s chest.
They both yawn and close their eyes.
My heart nearly explodes at the Saturday morning adorableness of it all.
It would only be better if we had all woken up together in Ian’s bed…
I clear my throat and hightail it out of there before I let my fantasy spin completely out of control. Next thing you know, I’ll have us married in my head and raising twins, Rye and Oak.
He’s not my type, I remind myself again.
And I’m focusing on me, not dating, right now.
Except he really looks rumpled and sexy. I avert my eyes to resist temptation as I head out the front door, walking quickly.
My apartment looks less gloomy in the early morning light and I change into workout clothes and my running shoes before setting out.
The run clears my head, and after I do a couple of miles through the residential area, I pull the door open to Dinky’s Diner and take a seat at the counter. My cheeks are flushed and I feel invigorated.
“What can I get ya?” the man behind the counter asks. His name tag says BUDDY.
I wonder if Buddy is Dinky’s brother. Or maybe his son? Who knows, but I like the fact that he looks exactly like what a man slinging hash in a diner should look like. Round belly, a little grumpy, not making eye contact. He’s scratching away on his order pad before I’ve even spoken.
“Can I have a water with three slices of lemon?”
That has him looking up at me. “Three slices of lemon?”
“Yes. And no ice. I need to detox.”
He snorts. “Okay then. What else? Eggs? Bacon? Pancakes?”
“Nothing else, thanks. I came for the atmosphere.”
That earns me an eye roll. “I’m going to have to charge you then.”
“For the atmosphere?”
“For the lemons.”
“Sure, of course.” Hopefully they’re not ten dollars. Too late now though.
He turns and moves slowly down the counter.
When I look around, I realize Lucy is sitting next to me.
She reaches out and pats my arms. “Don’t let him get to you. He was born grumpy. I bet you’re just saving room to taste test your bourbon balls before you submit them for judging this afternoon.”
That has me sitting up straighter on my stool.
Shit. I entered the bourbon dessert contest last night.
Why the hell did I do that?
Oh, right.
Bourbon.
At that very moment, I get a text from an unknown number.
Clogging class is Tuesday at 8. I told you I’ll give you the address so here it is.
Oh, this is Clogging Casey.
Well, drunk me had clearly decided to just dive right into life in Wanted.
Truthfully, sober me isn’t any different so I’m excited to try clogging. Who doesn’t want to stomp around for the hell of it? Also, I love that Casey has given herself a nickname that is so literal.
“Exactly,” I tell Lucy. “Plus, I plan on eating more mac and cheese bites at the festival today. I tried them last night and if they created a cult centered around mac and cheese bites I would join it.”
Ian appears out of nowhere and sits down on my opposite side just in time to hear my latest bit of nonsense. “You are the joining kind, Winnie. Half of Wanted is talking about you today.”
“And they haven’t even tasted my bourbon balls yet.”
“Ian isn’t the joining kind,” Lucy says. “I’m Lucy, by the way. We haven’t formally met. I’m Buddy’s mama.”
That actually surprises me. “Really? You don’t look old enough to be his mother.” She doesn’t. I would have put her at fifty something and Buddy a generous forty-seven.
Lucy beams at me. “Thank you.” She leans in closer. “Been putting saddle oil on my skin since the late seventies.”
Beauty tips and breakfast. Dinky’s Diner has it all.
Though no mention of my stolen lamp. I assume I’ll get it back at some point with some extra bling on it.
Buddy slaps my water down in front of me. I study him closer. How is this man Lucy’s son? He should have dipped into the saddle oil along with his mother.
My lemons are bobbing as I lift it to take a sip.
“Who says I’m not the joining kind?” Ian complains.
“Who cares? It’s not an insult. And we’ve already moved on to saddle oil,” I tell him. “We’re past your introverted status.”
I also take a second to text Clogging Casey back and confirm I will be there Tuesday and save her contact information.
“I belong to stuff,” Ian says, like he hasn’t heard a single word I said.
“Like what?” Lucy asks.
He clears his throat. “Well. There’s…and I’m not introverted.”
“Um hmm.” Lucy eyes him over her reading glasses then returns to tapping on her phone screen with her hot pink acrylic nails.
“Hey, Buddy, can I get a black coffee?” Ian asks.
“Order some eggs too or you have to give up the stool,” Buddy says, flicking a towel across the countertop.
I glance around. The diner is only half full.
“What did you order?” Ian asks me.
“Nothing. Just water.”
“Then why do I have to order food?” he asks Buddy.
“Because I said so.”
“Fine. I’ll take a Southwestern omelette.”
“No, you won’t. I’m not doing all that. You can have a fried egg.”
With that, Buddy retreats into the kitchen.
“You could have gotten me the coffee first,” Ian says loudly.
“No, I couldn’t,” Buddy calls back.
I kind of love this town already.
“Hey, Ian, can I borrow your kitchen to make my dessert for the recipe contest?” I ask, giving him a hopefully charming smile. “How stocked is your kitchen, by the way?”
“You entered the recipe contest? Everyone knows Miss Bettie wins that every year.”
“I don’t care if I win or not. I just want to have fun.”
“That’s the spirit,” Lucy says. “Show ‘em your balls!”
“What? Like…metaphorically?” Ian asks.
I try not to laugh. “She means my bourbon balls,” I say. “That’s the dessert I’m entering.”
“Jesus.” Ian stands up. “I really need some damn coffee. And yes, you can use my kitchen.”
He starts around the counter.
“Get out,” Buddy roars instantly.
He appears from the back in less time than it took me to blink.
“I need coffee,” Ian argues. “Now.”
Buddy blocks Ian’s entrance behind the counter. He pours him a coffee in a to-go cup. “No fried egg.”
Ian’s eyes narrow. But he just grabs the coffee being shoved at him and takes an enormous sip. “Fuck,” he says. “That’s hot.”
“It’s coffee, city boy.”
After taking an enormous sip of my water, Ian rolls his eyes and heads toward the front door. “That is why you should think twice before entering that recipe contest, Winnie. This town holds a grudge.”
“But I’m not grumpy like you,” I tell him, smiling sweetly. “I’m a joiner.”
“I’m not grumpy!” Ian complains, very grumpily. He throws his arm up in the air and shoves the diner open with way more force than is necessary.
“Men,” Lucy says. “Can’t live with them, can’t get fucked without them.”
I choke on my lemon water.