4. Juniper
“Morning, Scotty.” I wave to my head mechanic, placing his coffee on the counter in the work area.
“Something, something with drips of Juniper in her hair,” he playfully sings as he grabs the coffee.
“So close this time.” I snap my fingers, pretending he almost had the lyrics to “Drops of Jupiter” by Train. It’s a silly game we’ve played for years.
“How’s today looking?” I glance at the call sheet for the pickups today. “Is Allen Greer’s combine done? He called three times over the last two days about it.”
“Yes, he’s the first pickup, and for the record, I told him it would be a MINIMUM of five days turnaround time for this repair,” he says, enunciating the word loudly.
“I know, I know,” I wave him away as I flip through the rest of the pickups, “just relaying the information to you in case he comes in here with an attitude again.” I make a note of the others being picked up and see what we have coming in. Since I’ve taken over running my dad’s shop, things haven’t missed a beat. I expected my dad to be more involved at first, but it was like the moment I said I was ready, he handed me the keys and told me he believed in me. Both amazing and terrifying at the same time.
“Speak of the devil,” Scotty mutters as Allen’s signature 2007 Ford F-150 pulls into our parking lot.
“And for the record, I reiterated your message to him and told him to cut you guys some slack, because we’ve never let him down in over 30 years of servicing his farm equipment. I’ve got your back, Scotty.”
I hand him the clipboard and he winks at me. “And I’ll always have yours, kid.”
I grab my own coffee and a stack of invoices that need to be sent out and walk back to my office. The invoice on top is for Slade Industries International. A little flutter stirs in my belly as my mind instantly thinks of that night, that kiss. I put it in my purse, opting to drop it off at the ranch on my way home from the shop tonight, something my dad always did as well. He always said it was because of customer service, but Mom and I knew it was his chance to kick back and have an evening beer while gossiping with his best friends.
If he ever overstayed his welcome in my mom’s eyes, she’d send a warm-but-stern text to Colton, reminding him to send her husband home as soon as possible.
My life has been in a constant state of chaos since moving back home five weeks ago . . . literally back home. My parents insisted I live with them until I find a house I really want instead of wasting money on rent somewhere. It’s not ideal, but considering they plan to RV their way across America soon, I’m hopeful it will leave me with a little personal time. It’s hard enough moving back home, but it’s especially tough when you’ve lived in your own place with your own space for the last few years.
And while my friends are ecstatic to have me back in town, it feels like I haven’t had a chance to see any of them due to schedule conflicts and a general feeling of exhaustion that’s been plaguing me. Our text thread is full of we have to get together ASAP! and let me know what night works best for you guys.
“Good morning,” I say to my assistant Izzy, who’s flirting with two of the mechanics.
“Morning, Miss Riley,” Noah, the newest of our mechanics, says nervously, pushing his dark, messy hair out of his eyes.
“Morning, Juney,” Mike says with a nod.
“It’s Juniper or Juney, Noah. I’m younger than you, aren’t I? So no need for ‘Miss.’” I watch him visibly relax as Mike walks over to my desk. Noah graduated high school about three years before I did, so I don’t really remember much about him, even though our school was small. From what I do know about him, he’s nice, quiet, and came from a pretty messed-up home life. Rumor has it, he was actually living alone the last two years of high school, raising himself.
“So when are we going out?” Mike bounces his eyebrows up and down. “I’m kidding,” he says with a huge burst of laughter. If I said “yes,” he wouldn’t be kidding; we’re both aware of that.
“You know I can’t show favorites, Mikey,” I give him a big smile, “but if I could, you know it would be you.” I grab a mound of paperwork I need to go through and drop it on my desk. “Just as soon as I get through all this.” I plop down at my desk and he pretends to shiver.
“Nah, too much corporate bullshit,” he says before patting Noah on the shoulder. “Let’s go, kid. Got a long day to get through.”
“You and Noah, huh?” I ask Izzy once the guys shut the door behind them, leaving our office.
“Oh my God, he’s sooo cuuuute,” she whines, spinning around in her chair. “He invited me to hang out with him and his friends this weekend. They’re going to see some local band.”
“Are you going to go?”
“Yeah, but I kind of wish he would have just asked me to do something one-on-one.”
“Maybe he’s not sure where you stand and wants to test the waters to see if you guys have a connection?” I shrug, pulling a quarter of the papers in front of me. I tell myself I can’t get up for another cup of coffee until I get through these first.
“How are you so wise for 22?” She eyes me suspiciously and I laugh, although sometimes it’s funny to remember Izzy and I are less than two years apart. We went to school together, but due to being a few grades apart, we never hung out. Then again, maybe at 21, I was a lot more naive and innocent than I am now. Moving out on my own a few hours away really made me grow up quickly. I realized that while my parents would do anything to help me, when it came to getting myself in and out of situations, it was up to me.
“Seriously, though, at some point, we need to have a woman-to-woman talk, because I want to be taken seriously like you are. I know I’m still young but I also know what I want in life . . . I just don’t know how to present myself like you do.”
“I get it, and honestly, Izzy, don’t be too hard on yourself. We’re only girls once, so enjoy it while you can still be carefree. I asked for all this,” I say, motioning around the office. “I was just ready for a change and more responsibility. You’ll know when you’re ready for all of that, but as for how you want people to perceive you,” I shrug, reminding myself of this same fact, “that’s not in your control, and honestly, who cares as long as you’re happy with who you are?”
I mean what I’m saying, but at the same time, it feels like I’m talking to myself. I know exactly how she’s feeling, and maybe that’s what helped spur me to take over the family business. If I could go back to 21-year-old me, I’d tell her not to get her heart so set on one person that it screws her up for everyone else . . . but somehow, I have a feeling I still wouldn’t have listened to myself.
“Good morning, Riley Automotive and Farm Equipment.” Izzy’s cheerful voice pauses. “Let me double-check our schedule really quick to see if we can fit you in. Please hold.” I’m focused on the paperwork in front of me when Izzy says my name. “Juniper?”
“Hmm?” I don’t look up from my desk.
“Our schedule is pretty tight today, but I have Mr. Slade on the phone wondering if he can drop his truck off?”
“Yeah, tell him it’ll be first on the schedule tomorrow morning, so he’s free to drop it off today.”
“Sorry about the wait, sir. You can bring it by today and we’ll have the mechanics work on it first thing tomorrow morning. Does that work?” She nods. “Okay, great. We’ll be here till 6 p.m. Have a good afternoon, Deck.”
This time my head flies up when she says his name. She places the receiver back on its base and turns to her computer when her eyes catch mine.
“What?” She wipes at her face. “Do I have something on my face?”
“No,” I blink slowly, “you said ‘Deck.’”
“Yeah?”
“As in Decker Slade?”
“Yeah,” she shrugs, “I think so.”
“Are you sure he said ‘Decker’?” She nods again. “He didn’t maybe say ‘Ranger’?”
She squints. “Oh, maybe. Yeah,” she nods, “I think you might be right. Oops! You know how it is with twins.” She giggles and spins in her chair to face her computer.
I don’t say anything more about it, realizing that what she said about twins is true. Besides, under any other circumstances, it wouldn’t be weird to hear someone around here say his name. But the fact that my brain is permanently burned with the image of him kissing me is starting to make me hallucinate.
By the time lunch rolls around, I’m so lost in my own thoughts about the endless tasks I need to get to for the business before month’s end, I almost walk straight into Ranger in the parking lot.
“Oh, shit. My bad, Juney.” He jumps to the side when I don’t look up from my phone screen.
“No, I’m sorry.” I reach out toward him with an apologetic gesture. “Just too focused on work.” I smile. “What are you doing here?”
“Dropping the truck off,” he chuckles, thumbing over his shoulder, and I pretend to smack my head.
“Right!” I laugh as well. “Anyway, sorry I’m in such a rush. Need to run a few errands on my lunch break.” I wave at him as I quicken my pace toward my car. I yank the door open, sliding my phone into my purse as I sit down and reach for my seatbelt.
I pause when I look back up, my hand reaching for the steering wheel, when I realize the truck Ranger is dropping off is Decker’s truck after all.
“Guess I see why she said ‘Deck.’”
I turn to look behind me, backing up and pulling out of the lot. When I glance in the rearview mirror, I think I catch a glimpse of someone else stepping out of the truck, but the sun partially blinds my vision.
I push it to the back of my mind and run through the list of errands I have to get done. I need to work on prioritizing my time better so I have enough hours in the day to tend to my own needs and not end up staying later at work than everyone else.
By the timeI do finally close the doors and lock the place up, it’s past 9 p.m. I take a few deep breaths in my car, savoring the silence for a few moments before I look over at the invoice in my purse for the Slades.
“I’ll do it tomorrow,” I say, deciding it’s too late to go bother them. I should’ve given it to Ranger, but I wasn’t thinking. My parents will still be up, my dad probably watching one of his late-night talk shows, and my mom most likely busying herself with some chore that didn’t even need finishing in the first place.
I’m tired but I’m not ready to go home. I know I’ll take a shower and end up eating a sandwich in bed right before passing out. Instead, I drive over to our lone local diner, grabbing a booth in the very back and ordering a bowl of chicken noodle soup. I don’t pay attention to anyone else tonight. Normally, I’d wave, saying “hi” to anyone I recognized, but I just want to feel invisible tonight. I pull my hat down a little lower, sinking down into the booth as I close my eyes for a few moments.
“Are you really going to walk right by me twice today without so much as a ‘hello’?”
My eyes fly open at the familiar deep voice, the instant clench of my stomach reminding me that my body is still at this man’s mercy. I look straight up into the deep blue eyes of Decker Slade.