Chapter 2 Elliot
“What do you and your girlfriend do for fun in this small town?”
A courteous smile spreads across my face as the three girls stand at the opposite side of the counter, waiting in anticipation for me to respond.
Such a rookie move.
If I’m not mistaken, I’d peg them for grad students. Earlier, I heard them whispering and trying to figure out if I’m single. They gushed over my baby blue eyes—their words, not mine—and wondered what it would be like to run their hands through my ash-blond curls.
They’d been sitting inside the café at the table by the window for a solid hour, the remains of two salted caramel donuts and half-empty iced matcha lattes scattered between them.
The classic preempting of a girlfriend is an old trick. I could teach these girls a thing or two, but can I even be bothered? Yeah, it was all fun and games when I came back to Cinnamon Springs to help my sister. A new place—but not so new, since I spent a solid chunk of my adolescence here.
A clean slate and no past to run into. It seemed like the perfect idea. I could clear my head, get some clarity, and decide what the future holds.
God, who am I kidding? Cinnamon Springs is not Paris.
The girls here are just that—girls. At least, the ones hovering in the store and flirting with me act like girls.
I left my job as a head chef at a Michelin-starred restaurant for a small-town café—Donuts Ever After.
All because my little sister needed help.
And when it comes to my sister, she knows just how to persuade me, pulling out all the pity cards and leaving me not much choice but to help her out.
My money is on grad students, probably visiting from NYU or Columbia. It’s not like I wouldn’t hook up with a college girl—I’m only twenty-nine—but my taste has evolved since I left the frat house seven years ago.
“Well, ladies, ‘fun’ is up for interpretation,” I tease, just to get a reaction.
The girl with the long black hair leans forward with a naughty grin. “I wish there were more guys like you at NYU.”
Bingo.
I sweep my hair away from my eyes, then politely add, “Excuse me, ladies. I must attend to another customer.”
Thankfully, table six called for my attention, providing the perfect opportunity to extricate myself from the current conversation. Mrs. Russo is a regular customer, dining at the café three times a week for her usual English breakfast tea and mango cream donut.
“Sweetheart, I see you’re busy, but before I leave, I’ve been meaning to discuss something with you,” Mrs. Russo mentions with a brief smile. “It’s about my Ruthie.”
“Is she the Pomeranian you occasionally bring in?” I ask cordially.
“Oh, no, dear… she’s my daughter.”
I purse my lips together, blindsided by another potential setup. This isn’t the first time this has happened at work, and it sure as hell won’t be the last. It’s almost like all the mothers in this town have nothing better to do than set up their single daughters.
“I see…”
“Now, I know a handsome man like yourself has a lot of women to choose from. Lord knows, my Giuseppe did, too. If his mother had her way, he would have married Maria Romano because she was from a wealthier family!”
I nod, unsure what to say or do. Leaving the NYU girls now seems like a big mistake.
“But my Ruthie. She’s a good girl.” Mrs. Russo leans in, forcing me to do the same. “She’s untouched. Saving herself for her husband.”
Well, that was too much information. “Look, I—”
“Mrs. Russo,” my sister, Eva, nudges me to get the hell out of there while I can. “My brother needs to attend to an important matter in the kitchen. May I serve you today? I think the mango cream donuts are calling your name.”
I nod with an amiable smile, then bail to the kitchen, resting my hands against the stainless-steel countertop. Once again, my sister has saved the day. I should be showering her with gratitude, but then a flicker of resentment reminds me I’m here because of her.
Eva pops her head in. “You’re welcome.”
I force a smile. “Ruthie was untouched.”
Eva chuckles. “Of course she was. But hey, who’s to say the love of your life isn’t a virgin named Ruthie?”
“Love of my life? C’mon, Eva.” I turn toward the oven to set the timer. “I’m not looking for a wife. You know, there is more to the world than getting married and living in a small town. Don’t think I’m staying here forever. I’m helping you out but I’m not yourpermanent solution.”
“Yes,” Eva concedes. “The world is big and beautiful, but nothing beats the feeling of being home.”
“Home, right,” I mutter beneath my breath.
“Okay, stop being a party pooper. How about drinks tonight? Aston is driving in later today. He had a bunch of meetings and tried explaining what was happening with the business but lost me at acquisitions. You can talk all about your woman woes with him. It’ll be a nice change from all the business chatter. ”
“First, men don’t talk about women woes. Second, I don’t have woman woes. What I need is a good fu—”
Eva raises her hand. “Wrong person! And gross. See, my fiancé is the best person to talk to since he was previously a man-whore, too.”
This time, it’s my turn to laugh. “All right, fine. Drinks tonight, sis. And don’t get on your high horse when we men talk about our hookups.”
With a pout of her lips, Eva says, “I thought men don’t talk?”
Franklin’s is an old bar away from the central part of town. The owner, Franklin Shaw, has been alive for what seems like forever. We moved to Cinnamon Springs when I was a kid, and he was old then. The man never ages.
The property sits on the southern shore of Peppermint Lake, with an expansive patio overlooking the water. Inside there’s the pool table, which has seen better days, and a kitchen serving traditional English food since Franklin migrated from England with his wife.
“A pint for you and Eva’s fella?” Franklin asks.
“Vodka and tonic for the ladies,” Aston is quick to order, “but a pint won’t hurt us.”
Franklin goes about his business, and even though I am not a fan of beer since it reminds me of college days, I can tell Aston’s being polite.
Aston is standing beside me at the bar while Eva and her friend, Billie, are chilling by the pool tables.
Billie works at Donuts Ever After and is incredibly laid back, which makes my job a breeze.
She’s a skilled baker plus she knows the shop in and out.
It makes sense for Billie to manage the business over me, but unfortunately she lost her mother a few months ago and Eva was worried about Billie taking on too much. For once, I had to agree with Eva.
Billie is easy on the eyes, but Eva warned me, Don’t shit where you eat.
To suit her schedule, Billie took the early shift today, starting at five, while I came in later to handle lunch and closing.
I recently added some savory dishes to the menu to test the waters.
So far, it’s been a big hit, but Eva is worried that we’re stretching ourselves too thin.
As someone who has worked in many fast-paced restaurants, though, this is a walk in the park.
“So, you’re bored with Cinnamon Springs already,” Aston chuckles.
“How can you tell?”
“C’mon, this isn’t your scene. It’s the polar opposite of Paris.”
Franklin slides the frosty pints across the bar. I grasp them firmly, feeling the chill seep into my hands, while Aston carries the vodkas and makes his way toward the girls. At the pool table, Eva and Billie are laughing uncontrollably over something.
“What’s so funny?”
“Nothing,” Eva blurts out. “Just girl talk.”
I stop myself from rolling my eyes at them. Some things never change.
“Great,” I mutter.
The door opens and a few guys wander in.
I recognize the man on the left, Trey, from the frat house we shared at Brown University.
Trey isn’t a local, so I’m surprised to run into him here of all places.
He hasn’t changed much—still has his football build with a cocky grin, probably looking to score his next fuck tonight.
Too bad Cinnamon Springs is the last place anyone should go to find a one-night stand. Everyone fucking talks.
“Hey, Elliot.” Trey raises his hand, leaving his friends behind to chat. “Crazy seeing you here.”
I reach for his hand to say hello. “Yep, wild, right? Just in town for a bit, helping my sis out. And you?”
“Just swinging by on the way to Buffalo. Right, your sister…” He turns to face her with a knowing grin. “It’s been a while, Eva.”
“Not long enough,” she mumbles with a forced smile.
Aston’s eyes flit between Trey and Eva, a storm of emotions swirling behind them.
I recognize that telltale look of barely restrained jealousy, given this isn’t my first time hanging out with Aston and Eva.
I get he’s protective of his fiancée, but God, these two are like dynamite.
Too many times, I’ve found myself caught in the crossfire of their petty bickering.
“You two know each other?” Aston questions.
“We, um,” Eva stammers, “knew each other back in the day.”
Trey smirks. “We dated.”
“I wouldn’t call it dating,” Eva corrects him.
Aston’s eyes narrow.
“Well, technically, it was a few nights.” Trey carelessly adds fuel to the fire.
I quickly intervene to avoid this escalating beyond Aston’s patience. “Okay, we’re done with the trip down memory lane. Great seeing you. Might be wise for you and your buddies to stay on the other side of the bar.”
Beside me, Aston stands with his arms tightly crossed over his chest. His eyes burn with a fierce intensity. “You fucked him? Clearly, he’s a jerk,” Aston erupts.
I close my eyes in despair.
“It was a long time ago,” Eva answers with a quiet intensity in her expression. “And I’d rather not reminisce over one drunken night. I was young. We do stupid things when we’re young, right? Kind of like you kissing me at that graduation party and walking away like I was nothing.”