Chapter 8—Aspen
The lavender plants fluttering in the summer breeze reminded Aspen of her own feelings of nervousness. She tried to calm herself during her walk to the park where she planned to meet Connor at the food truck.
She wasn’t quite sure how her conversation with Connor shifted from helping around the shop to having dinner, but Aspen currently found herself walking in the direction of the mobile eatery with her Groupon coupon clutched firmly in her sweaty palm.
She planned to break bread – or fish tacos – with the man who had her thinking of something other than her business for the first time in a handful of years.
Aspen was ready to make her presentation with a thoughtful and tasty menu the hockey campers would love to eat while obtaining the necessary fuel to give them energy to do that hockey-y thing.
She even planned to bring samples for the hiring panel to taste in an effort to (hopefully) help seal the deal.
She also had another catering gig lined up with a local bank. They wanted baked goods, fruits and other snacks as part of their strategic planning event the group planned to host for employees at the branch later in the summer.
All of her efforts were coming together to help Aspen whittle down the loan a bit. She was giving herself some breathing room and trying to infuse a bit of cash into the actual building, outside of the uber-thoughtful donations of time and talents provided by Connor.
Aspen’s mind returned to the sexy hockey player who chose to spend part of his off-season helping mend some of the problems plaguing her shop.
She definitely liked calling him Connor. Although Mia sometimes referred to him as Uncle Connor, she most often used Wolfe. But for Aspen, it felt like the name Connor fit, and was something special only she shared with him.
Thinking back to their actual conversations along with their non-verbal exchanges, she’d sensed there was something he was holding back.
She couldn’t put her finger on it, other than her overwhelming desire to show the gentle giant care while exploring the buzz of awareness that zapped between them.
The problem was, she couldn’t afford any kind of distraction. And Connor was definitely a distraction.
And yet, she found herself approaching the park where she spied her fantasy Viking in the flesh sitting on a park bench. A scowl crossed his face as he looked across the expanse of the park toward a group of college-aged kids playing disc golf.
“Hi,” Aspen said brightly as she approached Connor on the wooden park bench painted fire engine red.
He shifted his gaze to land on Aspen, but his frown remained. “Where’s the restaurant? There’s a lot of people around here.”
Hello to you, too.
“Oh, um, there’s actually a food truck just over there that I heard was really good.”
And one you had a coupon for, sister.
“A food truck, huh?”
Wolfe asked skeptically and stood so he was so close to Aspen she could feel the heat radiating from his massive body. The movement caused a cacophony of prickles to bloom atop her skin.
“Yeah, just over there.”
Aspen turned from Connor and pointed to the overhauled delivery-truck-come-mobile-diner.
She not only wanted to point out the truck, but she needed to give her eyes a break from all of the muscles barely held beneath his pale blue t-shirt that perfectly matched his eyes.
The band name Foghat stretched across his chest in bubbly script.
Turning to the food truck also prevented her from fixating on the colored ink that crisscrossed his arms weaving an unknown story that she longed to hear.
“All right, let’s do this,” Connor said, as if he prepared for a root canal or some other form of medieval torture.
Aspen deflated a bit at Connor’s lackluster response to her dinner idea.
“Seriously, Connor,” Aspen said, and turned back to him, placing her hand on his forearm. Big mistake as it caused an involuntary pulse of want in her body. “If you’re not up for this, we can certainly go our separate ways.”
In fact, thoughts of pot stickers in her freezer and Wheel of Fortune on the TV called to her like King Arthur responding to the Lady of the Lake.
“I always do what I say I’ll do,” Connor’s voice was laced with conviction and a bit of strain she’d never heard during their handful of encounters at the bakery.
“All I’m saying is—"
“—Let’s just go to the truck and eat, okay?”
“Ooookay.”
They walked in silence through the park until they arrived at the mobile restaurant.
A flurry of activity buzzed around the spot from people in line to others eating at pop-up tables set up in the area.
The delicious smell of the smoke curling from the truck’s venting system teased at the yumminess that awaited.
“There’s a lot of people here,” Connor said flatly and pulled his baseball cap lower onto his head.
“Yeah, but they’re in their own worlds because the tacos are just that good,” Aspen teased in an attempt to lighten his sour mood.
After several minutes in line, they approached the small window where a roundish man donning an apron dotted with sauces and a purple bandana wrapped around his head a la pirate-style greeted them.
“What can I get you?” the cook grabbed a pair of tongs in anticipation of their order.
Connor perused the menu and slid his hand to the small of Aspen’s back.
“Ladies first.”
Aspen couldn’t remember her birthdate, let alone what she wanted to eat at the feel of Connor’s massive hand resting at the base of her back.
“Um, I would like the fish taco meal,” she breathed out in a wistful tone, trying to slow her heartrate at his tender touch. This was the polar opposite of his salty persona since they met up earlier in the park.
“What kind of fish taco, lady?” the man asked drolly.
“Oh, um...” Aspen quickly glanced at the menu written in chalk on an easel by the truck. “How about the honey wasabi salmon meal?”
“For you, buddy?”
“Lemon grilled shrimp meal.”
“I’ll have ‘em up in about five,” he quickly began gathering the ingredients for their meals. “In the meantime, drinks are in the metal tub and there are a few tables out back. It’ll be twenty-five even for the tacos and sides.”
Connor began reaching for his wallet and Aspen grasped his forearm.
“I’ve got this.”
Aspen unfolded the coupon she’d been holding in her hand and placed the two-for-one printed offer on the windowsill perched against the side of the truck.
The cook grabbed the paper and looked it over in confusion. “What’s this?”
“It’s a Groupon. Two for one.”
The man took the paper with deep creases from being folded and reviewed the printing. “Lady, that’s from two months ago. I’m not going to honor that.”
“No, see, it says right here...” Aspen looked at the date and sure enough, the deal had expired. “Oh, okay. No worries.”
Aspen unzipped her clutch to extract her debit card, embarrassed beyond belief, and also a bit frustrated at herself that she didn’t check the coupon close enough.
“Seriously, BB. I’ve got this.” Connor moved to grab his wallet from the back pocket of his dark-washed jeans.
“No, Connor, I said I was buying dinner and I’m going to buy dinner,” Aspen said with alacrity.
“I don’t care who buys dinner, I just need someone to pay so I can start your orders before the line gets any longer behind you.”
“Fine,” Connor shook his head and stuffed his wallet into the back pocket of his jeans.
“Fine,” Aspen retorted like a peeved teenager and slapped her debit card on the counter for the cook to process.
She and Connor grabbed drinks submerged in a bin of icy water and then walked to a picnic table to settle in and wait for their food.
Aspen was well aware that she’d not been on a date-that-was-just-dinner in a long time, but tonight took the cake for awkward. It was a complete one-eighty from the previous amicable, borderline arousing encounters she’d had with Connor before this disaster.
Silence stretched between them.
Aspen drummed her short nails on the tabletop, while Connor slammed nearly half of his bottled water, his eyebrows remaining pinched.
“Number 12,” a teenager called out to patrons sitting at the small tables behind the food truck. His Totally Tasty Taco t-shirt stood out in bright contrast with the park’s expanse of brilliant green grass stretching before him.
“Here,” Aspen called and swapped the food for the plastic placard denoting their meal order.
She unfolded her napkin and placed it neatly across her lap, avoiding eye contact with Connor. This meal couldn’t end soon enough.
Could she really have been so wrong about a person? The guy in her shop who flirted and fixed things was the polar opposite of the man stewing across from her right now.
“BB, look at me,” his voice soft and deep and filled with remorse. “I want you to know—”
“—Oh. My. God. It’s Wolfe,” exclaimed a woman who rushed to the table. “Lucia, get over here, it’s Wolfe! I can’t believe it’s really him.”
Aspen’s attention whipped to the woman standing so close to Connor she could have easily been in his lap with just the slightest movement.
Speaking of wiggle, the young woman’s boobs were threatening to spill completely out of her too-tight tank top that just happened to be at Connor’s eye level as she bent over.
“Hi, it’s always great to meet our fans,” Connor replied, his voice in complete control, unlike the exchange between he and Aspen while ordering their food.
“I’m Becca and this is my friend, Lucia, and we are the hugest fans of the Crush,” she gushed, her voice squeaking in delight. “But especially of you, Wolfe.”
Gag me with my measuring spoons, Aspen thought.
Connor gave them his full attention, but subtly leaned away from the woman’s blatant attempt at brushing her bountiful bosom against any part of him her lean could reach.