Chapter 22
22
L ove this little place. Super friendly staff and the coffee is the absolute best I’ve had. Highly recommend ! ~ Tristin G.
T he week passed in a blur after a long-time client’s company suffered a major security breach. Cal had caught an afternoon flight to Newark after arranging for Charleen’s college-aged son to stay at his house to dog sit Ridley and Peaches. He thought of asking Ginger to watch Peaches again, but after her crazy weekend organizing for the Fall Days Festival, he hated to take advantage.
It was a harried time out East. Delayed flights, a lost rental car reservation, and his credit card being compromised marked the four days and nights he spent in a room overlooking the Passaic River. He’d never been so happy to see the flat, burnished-gold fields of eastern Iowa when he touched down in Cedar Rapids on Friday .
Now, Cal tugged the bottom of his tie, trying to adjust its length without having to redo the thing for the tenth time. He appraised himself in the bathroom mirror and made a face. Good enough.
Behind him on the bed, Ridley and Peaches lay in identical positions. His five days away only seemed to have affected their appetites. Upon arriving home, Cal noticed Ridley nudging the treat cabinet throughout the day. Peaches had picked up Ridley’s habit, too. Their entitlement for endless rewards seemed to be punishment for Cal leaving them.
On their bellies, faces between their paws, the dogs watched his antics as he readied himself for the gala. He’d spent most of the afternoon trying to wrap up writing a report. Trying was the key word. All he could think about was the night ahead with Ginger.
Tonight is it .
But with only a handful of meaningful conversations and a few loaded looks over the last month, was it enough to finally break all the way through Ginger’s protective fa?ade? A friendship years in the making, and it was all coming down to a three-hour window at a shelter charity function.
He’d apologized for leaving her in the dark for a few days. The week had truly been a nightmare, with zero time for leisure after he and Ginger had texted late Monday night. He’d literally left his hotel at six every morning, only to return at eight in the evening, sometimes nine, with a cold sub and bag of chips he’d grabbed from the deli in the lobby. A half-eaten sandwich left on the nightstand the next morning was the only proof he’d eaten something before he collapsed into bed. It sounded like an excuse as he explained the week to her. He didn’t blame her for feeling left out.
D id you have an easy flight back home ? she’d asked when he checked in that morning to make arrangements for the gala.
Cal: I suppose. I would have rather not left Greenhaven in the first place.
Ginger: Oh, yeah? Why not?
Cal: Hmmm, let me think. There’s this woman who owns Coffee Loft. I can’t stop thinking about her.
Ginger: I bet she knows what you’re going through.
Cal: Maybe we should meet to commiserate.
Ginger: How’s tonight?
Their exchange left him whistling all the way on his trip around the park with the dogs.
Still in front of the mirror, he slipped his fingers into the space between the collar and his neck, tugged at the fabric some more, then turned off the bathroom light.
No room to breathe .
Movement outside made him pause as he reached for his jacket across the back of the chair.
Or maybe it was the woman in the car who’d just pulled into his driveway. It wouldn’t be the first time she affected his oxygen level.
He hoped tonight wouldn’t be the last, either.