Chapter 4
Chapter Four
LOUISA
“Y our booth is up,” Cynthia calls.
Desperately trying to squash a short and very inappropriate conversation about television crew sex scandals with old Mrs. Hills, I punch in the amount on the till, pulling out her change and placing it in her hand. I glance at Cynthia. “Okay, thanks.”
A dark head of hair and shoulders in an old work shirt are visible over the booth divider. He sits in the last booth by the back wall. My area. I grab the fullest, hottest pot of coffee from the hot plate and round the counter. Passing the booths, I check in as I go.
“More coffee, Errol?”
The old man beams at me, toothy smile plastered on his face.
“Thank you, sweetheart. You’re a keeper.”
“You doin’ the keepin’?”
It’s amazing how the accent blooms back to life once you’re home. It helps that the customers expect it. Learned that on day one. The Cali accent wasn’t doing me any favors. So, I dug deep, and that old drawl was still in there. Lucky me.
I pour the old man some more coffee, and I’m pretty sure his eyes are not on my face. I chuckle and squeeze his shoulder, making my way to the last booth.
The dark head of hair leans back in the booth, sending a hand through those dark locks. Wow. Now I need to check out his face.
Shit, Louisa. Stop.
I so need to get laid.
I check my apron pocket. The slip of paper from earlier, when I met Brad, is still secure in there. I smile to myself. Dating again will be a breath of fresh air.
Bradley Connors. I vaguely remember him from high school. He’s quiet but seems nice. I ponder what to wear to our first date.
Closing in on the booth, I say, “Coffee, hon?”
The man mumbles something under his breath that sounds like “Why else would I be here,” not looking up. That voice...
When I don’t move the pot closer, he shifts on his seat.
“Yeah, please.” Now he turns his head, eyes drifting up. “And my regu?—”
Instantly, my stomach drops out, only to resurface as a bundle of knots on fire.
Air leaves my lungs and stays gone.
The coffee pot in my hand slips.
Heart flinging around my rib cage like a panicked, injured bird, I try to school the shock from my face.
Shock at seeing him again.
Shock at the sight of him. He’s grown into something breathtaking. All hard angles and kind face. Those dark blue eyes...
“Louisa,” he chokes.
“Ha—” My voice breaks.
I can’t.
My hands tremble. I wring the apron between my fingers, trying as hard as humanly possible not to cry. I slam my shoulders back and slip over the sea of coffee, rushing behind the counter and into the supply room. The door slams behind me, and I slide down the wall.
“He’s...” I pull my knees into my chest. It’s like not one day went by. The feelings that I had for this man haven’t changed one iota. At all. A hot tear carves a path down my cheek. I swipe it away.
Nope, we are not doin’ this.
“I’m okay.” I suck in a huge lungful of air. I knew I would run into him eventually.
Never in my wildest dreams would I think he would still have that effect on me.
And then, oh my god, he walked in.
Technically, I walked to him. Still...
And I?—
I am rebuilding. Not sinking back into something so serious. I need to be me for a while. Not the girlfriend. Not Louisa Masters the career woman. Just me. Just Lou.
It’s been a long time since anyone’s called me that...
Only one person ever did.
And... I dropped a pot of steaming coffee at his feet.
I push to my feet, determined to have a do-over.
Let’s do this again.
I can be friendly, right?
I open the supply room door, and Cynthia walks in with the mop and bucket. “You okay, love?”
I wipe my hands on my apron, like it needs fixin’.
“Uh huh.” My voice is too high. She raises an eyebrow like she doesn’t believe me. Heavens, I don’t believe me.
“Your area’s all cleared up. But you might want to service that booth. He’s a regular, and a good one.”
Of course he is.
“Sure, on it.”
I blow out a breath and clear my throat, hands sweeping over my hair. Cynthia shoots me a sly look. “You look fine, Louisa. Go get him, tiger.”
“Ugh, not helping.”
She cackles and disappears around the corner with a mop and bucket. I walk through the swinging doors and to the counter. I glance around the diner. The end booth is empty. Shit. The doorbell chimes. The hat and the back of a work shirt slip through the door and vanish.
Double shit.
I pull off my apron and hunt for Lisa. I find her at a table in the middle of the checkered floor. I’m by her side a second later. “Hey, can you cover for me for five?”
“Sure.”
“Thanks.” I fly out the doors and spill onto the street. Desperate to find the hat, I swivel my head, searching for it.
People.
Hat... Wrong one.
Harry’s dad’s old buckboard truck sits by the grocery store. I run to the store and rush inside. The place isn’t busy. Only a few people. I rush down the first aisle. Nothing.
The next one.
Nothing.
The nex?—
I slam into a woman, her back to me as she reaches for a can on the top shelf.
“Shit! I am so sorry!” I try to steady her as she teeters on her feet, grabbing onto the cart by her side. She turns, a little dazed, and sets her gaze on me. The grin that grows on her face sends my heart racing. Not because she’s happy.
Because she’s Mrs. Rawlins.
Oh god.
Harry still drives his Ma to town?
I guess some things never change.
“Louisa! Heavens above. Look at you! It’s so good to see you, my girl.” She pulls me into a hug. I freeze for a moment, not knowing if things have changed. When she hugs me tighter, I realize they haven’t. I hug her back. A moment later, she releases me, holding me at arm’s length.
“Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes. Evelyn told me you’re back in town. Are you staying for good this time?”
“It’s wonderful to see you, too, Mrs. Rawlins. I’m not sure what I’m going to do.”
She tilts her head. “Well, I for one can say it hasn’t been the same around here without you.”
I chuckle. “Thanks, but I think Lewistown does just fine without me.”
“Who said I was talkin’ about the town?”
Oh?
Oh...
My face heats as I realize she means Harry. She smiles, it’s so kind and loving, and now I feel self-conscious in my waitressing uniform. My gaze hits the floor.
“Actually, I could use a hand with these here groceries. My Harry went to Darla’s to find himself something good.” She pushes the cart along the aisle.
He found something, at least. Most likely the scare of a lifetime in the form of the last person he ever wanted to see.
I follow, not knowing what else to do. Stopping at the herbs and spices, she pushes to her tiptoes, reaching for the thyme. One of my favorites. Her fingers brush past the small bottle. I don’t remember her being this small. Maybe she shrank a little with age. More likely I grew. The last time I saw her was ten years ago.
My mind wanders back to that night.
The devastation that wrecked her son’s face.
The guilt that’s eaten me since, for running off without explanation. It’s the one thought that never leaves me. I wish I could take it back. Have a do-over on that one moment. The answer would be the same—I was seventeen, for goodness’ sake.
I fold in behind Mrs. Rawlins and grab the glass bottle for her. She spins back and pats my cheek.
She does that a lot.
I chuckle. “What else do you need?”
She scrunches her nose up a little. “Well, if you’re not in a hurry to go back to work?”
Ah ha! She knew exactly where I was. I wouldn’t put it past her to have sent Harry to the diner herself. If there is one thing I know to be true, she loves her son more than the air in her lungs. Always has.
Knowing Harry, he never told her what happened before I left, only that I did.
“Potatoes and flour. I think that will do for the minute.” She wanders off with the cart and I fall in beside her. I should be getting back. Pretty sure my five minutes was up about ten minutes ago.
We head for the checkout with the small list of items. She pays in cash, and I carry her bags. She makes for the old blue buckboard truck the Rawlins have owned ever since I’ve known them.
“I bet I could make much better food for my boys with some proper instruction,” Mrs. Rawlins says as we reach their vehicle. She opens the door and squeezes the lever, shifting the passenger seat forward. I place the bags in the small space and step back.
“Sure, what did you have in mind?”
“Oh, something new age. I’m sick of eatin’ the same old thing night after night. Could you come out during the week? I don’t want to eat up your weekend. A young girl like you must have a thrivin’ social life.”
“Huh, not exactly. And I can do Wednesdays. It’s my day off.”
“Wonderful! Should I go back inside and grab some better ingredients?”
“I can bring some things.” The door to the diner opens a little ways down the street and Lisa waves at me. Time’s up.
“It’s lovely to see you, Mrs. Rawlins. I’ll be out Wednesday around lunchtime, okay?”
“Sounds perfect, sweetheart.” She beams at me. “Please, call me Rosie. You’re far too grown-up to be callin’ me Mrs. Rawlins these days.”
“Okay,” I say with a chuckle. “Bye, Rosie!”
I round the truck, heading back to work. Past the pharmacy, I turn back and wave to Rosie. She rolls the window down and waves me off. I turn back and slam straight into something hard. Warm. All sandalwood and heady.
“Shit! I’m sor—” I look up and into the deep blues of none other than Harry Rawlins.
His jaw is set.
I step back and suck in a rapid breath.
He stands there, staring at me. All lines and angles. Gaze homed in on my face as his hands hang by his sides.
“Hi,” I offer in a soft squeak. I flatten my immaculate uniform with my hands, not knowing what to do with myself.
“Hi.” His tone is anything but friendly.
I guess I don’t deserve anything more. Heavens, if the shoe was on the other foot, I doubt I’d be this put together.
“I ran into your mom,” I offer to fill the loudest silence known to man.
He glances to the truck.
I wring my hands behind my back, trying to look anywhere but his face. My heart is clambering in my chest, sending my stomach into a flurry of butterflies. How does the man still have this effect on me ten years later?
He shifts on his feet, like he wants to be anywhere but here.
“I should head back to work.” I go to move past him.
He plucks his hat from his head and runs a hand through that hair.
I stutter a goodbye and edge past him awkwardly. “See you ’round, Harry.”
Without a word, he hesitates, but walks for his truck.
Well, that went well. I roll my eyes at myself. God, I am the stupidest woman alive. He’s never been a man of many words. But that was strained, even for him. It’s funny the way you can still know someone, to a certain extent, even after a decade apart. I push the diner door open, and the noise of busy and the scent of coffee reels me in.
My head is anywhere but at work.
This is not how I wanted to start my fresh start.
Consumed by an old flame. God, I’m pathetic.
Get a hold of yourself, Louisa.
The rest of my shift drags, and I occupy my mind with anything I can find. The last thing I need is to catch feelings for someone who can barely stand to be around me for less than five minutes. I wander home to the apartment straight after my shift. A small box of leftovers from one of the casseroles Cynthia whipped up sits in one hand as I unlock the front doors to the restaurant. Making sure to lock them behind me, I head upstairs.
I’m halfway through my meal when I remember the promise I made Rosie.
Dammit.
Maybe it will be fine? Harry will be outside with his work, right?
It’s just cooking lessons. Rosie is a friend. That’s all this is.
Besides, I have a date with Brad following the trip out to the Rawlinses’ farm. So, I’ll be keeping my distance from Harry. I finish the last of the delicious savory goodness and wash up the cutlery.
Tossing the container in the trash, I run myself a bath. Eager to wash away the sweat and grime from the day, I undress and slide into the hot water. Letting out a long, slow, and steady breath, I let my eyes fall shut.
It’ll be okay.
It’ll be fine.
“Moving on. Starting again. Fresh start... and all that,” I whisper to myself as I sink under the water.
I may as well stay down for all my willpower is worth around Harry Rawlins.
The sooner I go on that date with Brad, the better.