Chapter 41 #2
“Nope,” I say, just as Karina blurts, “Nora’s dating the hot contractor next door.”
Roman’s eyebrows shoot up. “Is that right?”
I sigh, defeated. “We’re… figuring things out.”
A slow smile spreads across his weathered face. “Good for you. He seems solid.”
“Speaking of solid,” Karina mutters under her breath, earning another elbow from me.
Roman’s face turns serious as he turns back toward the kitchen. “Just make sure he treats you right, or he’ll answer to me,” he calls over his shoulder.
“Yes, Dad,” I tease, but his protectiveness warms my heart.
As soon as Roman disappears, Karina pounces again. “Okay, now spill. And don’t leave out the juicy parts.”
I grab a pot of fresh coffee and start refilling cups at the counter. “There’s nothing to spill.”
“Please,” she scoffs, following me. “Your lips are swollen, there’s a hickey peeking out of your collar that you think I can’t see, and your red face is not from the cold. ”
“I’m just allergic to something.” I should have put some makeup on before I left the house.
“Aha. Allergic to his beard, bish? He’s been sporting some decent scruff recently.” She puts her hands together like in prayer. “Just a bit. Tell me a little bit. My Kindle is broken, and I haven’t had a good romance for a week.”
I bite my lip, trying to suppress my smile and failing miserably. “Fine. Yes, we… spent the night together.”
She squeals, drawing curious glances from several customers. “I knew it! Was it good? He looks like he’d be good.”
“Karina!” I hiss, feeling my cheeks burn.
“What? It’s a valid question. Some guys look the part but don’t deliver.”
I busy myself wiping down the counter, avoiding her gaze. “I have no complaints.”
Her eyes widen. “That good, huh?”
Before I can answer, the bell over the door jingles again and Letty bursts in, unwinding a scarf from her neck.
“Sorry I’m late!” she calls, hurrying toward us. “Tony’s car wouldn’t start, and then we had to wait for the tow truck, and—” She stops, looking between us. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”
“We’re not,” I say quickly. “Karina was just leaving to take orders.”
“No, I wasn’t,” Karina protests, but I give her a gentle push toward the waiting customers.
“Yes, you were. Table six has been waiting for their check.”
Letty watches her go, then turns to me with a raised eyebrow. “What was that about?”
“Nothing,” I say, passing her an apron. “Just Karina being Karina.”
She studies me for a moment, then a slow smile spreads across her face. “Oh my God. You and the hot neighbor finally hooked up, didn’t you?”
“Why does everyone keep calling him that?” I groan, but I don’t deny it.
“Because he’s hot,” Letty says matter-of-factly. “And judging by your face right now, you know it too.”
I shake my head, laughing despite myself. “Don’t you have tables to wait on? You are late. Why is no one taking their boss seriously around here?”
“Fine, change the subject.” She grins, tying her apron. “But just so you know, the whole town’s going to find out by lunch.”
“The whole town can mind their own business,” I mutter, but I know she’s right. In Big Love, nothing stays secret for long, especially not something as juicy as this.
The morning rush keeps us busy, and I’m grateful for the distraction.
Every time the bell over the door rings, my heart does a little skip, wondering if it might be him.
It’s ridiculous—I saw him less than two hours ago—but I can’t help it.
I keep catching myself smiling at nothing, my mind wandering back to last night, to this morning.
“Earth to Nora.” Karina waves a hand in front of my face. “You just poured coffee into Mrs. Wilkinson’s water glass.”
I blink, looking down to see coffee overflowing onto the counter. “Oh! I’m so sorry!” I grab napkins, mopping up the mess while Mrs. Wilkinson watches with amusement.
“Don’t worry, dear,” she says, patting my hand. “My Harold used to get that same dreamy look when we were first courting. I’d recognize it anywhere.”
My cheeks burn. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Of course you don’t.” She winks. “And I didn’t see you coming out of that nice young man’s house this morning either.”
I freeze, napkins clutched in my hand. “You… what?” She lives up the street from us, closer to town and well out of vi ew from our houses. So how she managed to see me is beyond my imagination.
“I was walking Pepper early,” she explains, referring to her ancient poodle. “We take the long way around on Tuesdays. Saw you sneaking out just after dawn.”
Great. Just great. “Mrs. Wilkinson, I wasn’t?—”
“Oh, honey,” she laughs. “I’m eighty-two, not dead. Live a little! He’s quite handsome.”
Karina appears at my elbow, grinning like the Cheshire cat. “See? Even Mrs. W. approves.”
I shoot her a glare and retreat to the kitchen, where Roman is flipping pancakes with practiced ease.
“Don’t say it,” I warn, leaning against the counter.
“Say what?” He doesn’t look up from the grill.
“Whatever you’re thinking.”
He slides a perfect stack onto a plate. “I’m thinking these pancakes need blueberry compote.”
“That’s all?”
Now he does look at me, his expression softening. “And I’m thinking it’s good to see you happy, kid. Been a while.”
The simple observation catches me off guard, and I feel a lump form in my throat. “Yeah,” I manage. “It has.”
Roman nods, turning back to his grill. “Just be careful.”
“I am,” I say quietly, because despite this flutter of happiness in my belly, there’s a tiny, dark cloud looming on the horizon, and I hate that I keep seeing it.
Roman hums noncommittally, but I catch the slight smile on his face. “We’ll see.”
The door to the kitchen swings open, and Letty pokes her head in. “Nora, there’s someone here to see you.”
My pulse quickens. “Who?”
“Your grandmother and,” she glances over her shoulder, “Cheryl. They’re asking for you.”
I exhale, both relieved and disappointed it’s not Jericho. “Tell them I’ll be right out. ”
Roman chuckles. “Expecting someone else?”
“No,” I lie, straightening my apron. “Just… busy.”
“Mmhmm.” He flips another pancake with a knowing look.
When I emerge from the kitchen, Grandma and Cheryl are settled in our corner booth, heads bent together in conversation. They stop abruptly when they see me approach, which is never a good sign.
“Well, look who finally showed up to work,” Cheryl drawls, stirring her coffee. “Late night?”
I slide into the booth across from them. “Don’t start.”
“What?” Cheryl’s eyes widen with mock innocence. “Can’t a sister be concerned about another sister’s whereabouts?”
Grandma pats my hand. “We’re just glad you’re safe, dear. Though next time, a text would be nice.”
I blink. “I’m twenty-five, not fifteen.”
“Still,” Grandma sniffs, “common courtesy. Even though I saw you being dragged out of the house like a pretty sack of wonderful potatoes.”
“I’m sorry,” I sigh, knowing she’s right. “I should have at least texted you from his place.”
Cheryl leans forward, elbows on the table. “So… Steve, huh?”
“Jericho,” I correct.
“Whatever.” She waves a dismissive hand. “Tall, dark, and broody is your type now?”
I glance around, lowering my voice. “Can we not do this here?”
“Why not?” Cheryl’s grin is wolfish. “The whole town already knows. Mrs. Wilkinson called Edith at the pharmacy, who told the mail carrier, who mentioned it to?—”
“I get it,” I cut her off, mortified. “Nothing stays private in Big Love.”
“Exactly.” She sips her coffee, looking entirely too pleased. “So you might as well tell us the good stuff directly.”
Grandma clears her throat. “What your sister means is, we’re happy for you. If he makes you happy.”
“He does,” I admit, unable to stop the smile that spreads across my face. “It’s… new. But good.”
Cheryl makes a gagging noise. “Save the googly eyes for him. I’m more interested in the?—”
“Don’t you have crimes to solve?” I interrupt.
“It’s Big Love.” She shrugs. “The most action I’ve had all week was chasing that damn rooster away from the town square. Again.”
“Speaking of,” Grandma says, suddenly very interested in stirring her tea, “has anyone seen him lately? The rooster?”
I narrow my eyes. “Why?”
“No reason,” she says too quickly. “Just curious.”
I’m about to press her when the bell over the door jingles, and my heart does that ridiculous little skip again. This time, it’s not for nothing. Jericho walks in, looking somehow more imposing than usual in the daylight. His shoulders seem wider and his posture surer.
His gaze finds me immediately, and I swear the temperature in the diner rises ten degrees.
“Oh my,” Grandma murmurs, following my gaze. “I see what all the fuss is about.”
Cheryl snorts into her coffee. “Subtle, Nora. Real subtle.”
I tear my eyes away, feeling caught. “Shouldn’t you two be anywhere else?”
“And miss this?” Cheryl settles back against the booth. “Not a chance.”
Jericho weaves between the tables, nodding at the few customers who acknowledge him. Most just stare, then immediately turn to whisper to their companions. The gossip mill is working overtime today.
“Ladies,” he says when he reaches our table, his voice a low rumble that makes my stomach flip. “Morning, Moon.” He nods at my grandmother, then at my sister. “Cheryl.”
“Steve,” Grandma replies with a serene smile, and I don’t bother correcting her this time.
“What brings you here?” I ask, trying to sound casual despite the warmth creeping up my neck.
His eyes hold mine for a beat too long. “Forgot something yesterday when I fixed your pipes.”
Cheryl chokes on her coffee, and I kick her under the table.
“Right,” I say, standing quickly. “Let me show you where we keep the… tools.”
I lead him toward the kitchen, hyperaware of every pair of eyes following us, including my grandmother’s and sister’s. When we’re through the swinging door, I turn to face him.
“You didn’t forget any tools,” I say.
The corner of his mouth twitches. “No.”
“So you came here just to see me?”