CHAPTER 6
HELEN
When I step into Dolly’s, the first thing that hits me is the scent of coffee, greasy food, and a hint of citrus brightness. It’s perfect and just the kind of smell which makes you feel like you’re coming home. It’s always been this way.
For those of us in Dogwood Ridge, life happens at Dolly’s Place. It always has. Birthdays. Anniversaries. Little celebrations. Those awkward moments people would rather forget. First dates, especially for high schoolers who are sharing a milkshake and fragile hopes.
There are things in town that never change and this place is one of them.
The things that have changed are some of the waitresses from time to time.
Honey is working now because Stan—yes, Stan who was Dolly’s son and grew up in the diner the same way we all did and runs the place from the kitchen since his mom’s passing—always works with people’s schedules.
For Honey, she needs him to work with her college classes.
And I’ve heard whispers about someone being sick at home.
Still, the smile Honey flashes me is bright as I point toward one of the seats at the counter and she nods. When I see Stan through the pass window, he winks at me and I can’t help but chuckle and smile at the man.
Not only is he Dolly’s son, but he has a brother. Sheriff Lyons.
Everyone knows how Stan insists Dolly’s is neutral ground. The guys in the motorcycle club are welcome. Sheriff Lyons is welcome. Teenagers with all of their loudness at times are welcome. Then there are the grandmothers bound together by one hobby or another.
No matter who you are, you can walk into Dolly’s Place and enjoy a meal. Without it being an issue and certainly without there being any physical altercations.
I’m craving a club sandwich and fries. I don’t know what salt and seasoning blend they use on the fries here, but it’s delicious and like nothing else.
There are many days when I would rather make the trip to Dolly’s instead of cooking at home.
Especially because I know the special rotation.
If you’re a meatloaf fan, there’s a special night for you to stop in and see Stan.
And he’ll make it worth your while.
I don’t even like meatloaf, but that doesn’t stop me from eating it. Only if Stan is cooking it, of course. Talk about comfort food.
My mouth starts to water at the thought of the man’s mac and cheese. I can’t eat it for lunch when I need to go back to work and can’t spend the rest of the day taking a nap. Now, if a nap was on the horizon? I would go for a side of the cheesy noodle deliciousness.
Before I can get too lost in the disappointment of not being able to indulge in the deliciousness now, Honey is in front of me with a big grin on her face.
“Hi, Helen,” her voice is bright and right on the edge of being too cherry.
The young woman would come off as fake and insincere, but she’s one of the nicest people I’ve ever met. And so genuine. She does so much for others, including her family, but doesn’t ask for anything in return.
But things must be rough.
I’m tempted to ask, but I don’t want to embarrass her. Stan will keep an eye on her. It’s one thing I’m certain of.
“Hi, Honey,” I grin at the woman, “how has school been going?”
She sighs and leans against the counter like it’s the only thing holding her up. “It’s been fine, the first half of the semester is always better than the second half. Still, it’s a lot of work between work, studying, and getting assignments done.”
I frown slightly and she shakes her head like she knows what I’m thinking. The way she waves her hand is dismissive.
“Don’t worry about me. I’m fine,” she assures me. “It’s just a lot of pressure with a lot of time management needs, but it’s under control.”
“Okay,” I tell her, while narrowing my eyes. “I don’t know how, but if I can help you in some way, let me know.”
“You’re so sweet,” she’s practically giddy as she gushes and taps her pen to the pad she’s holding, but without any hint of impatience. “What can I get you today? I know fries, but what sandwich?”
The way she’s peering at me makes me wonder if she’s about to take a chance at guessing which sandwich I’m in the mood for. I bet she’d probably get it right.
“I’m going with the turkey club today,” I tell her.
“I knew it,” she exclaims and does a little happy dance right there on the other side of the Formica countertop.
I can’t help but giggle at her enthusiasm.
Then she’s on the move. She puts my order on the turning order thing—which is clearly it’s official name—before putting a diet soda down in front of me.
Her movements are efficient and there’s not a single wasted movement, as if each stretch of her muscle must be accounted for and used for what it was intended.
It’s kind of a beautiful dance which I can’t help but appreciate.
I feel the presence of someone as they slide into the seat next to me. The way the man’s presence settles around me while still feeling electric in the most dangerous of ways makes me think I know who has sat down without even looking over.
“Hi, Sheriff,” Honey greets the man who I can’t help but peek at.
He’s so close and I have to tilt my head back in order to see him properly. He’s looking down at me with affection and amusement dancing in his eyes. My thighs clench and I’m suddenly very aware of the outfit I have on today which is somewhere between librarian and schoolmarm.
“Rhodes,” I breathe out his name, more a puff of air than something to latch onto.
But he doesn’t miss it and his mouth stretches into a boyish grin. It’s devastating in a way I’m not used to.
I was used to Thad with his practiced lines and his expected frozen moment photo ops which had more to do with his image and his career than me or our relationship.
But I also knew what I was getting with a guy like him.
Because he was far too much like my father, but I realized too late to save me from heartbreak and humiliation.
“Hey, Sweetheart,” the way the endearment rolls off his tongue, like it’s more natural than breathing, has me wishing for things beyond my reach.
“Can I get you something to eat?” Honey asks while sitting a soda in front of him. There’s a tease in her voice as she asks, “How about some cake?”
He mentioned he’s become addicted to the cake here and I can’t say I blame him. The notes of citrus I’ve been smelling are absolutely from the Orange Creamsicle Moonshine Cake and it has my mouth watering.
The look Rhodes shoots Honey is sheepish and adorable. “I’m sure I’ll grab a slice,” he glances my way, “or two to take back with me.” He rubs the back of his neck, his grey eyes holding me captive. “How about a burger for now?”
“You got it, Sheriff,” Honey chirps before ripping the paper from her pad, clipping it where it belongs and moving away to help the other customers.
The silence between us isn’t awkward, but it is charged. I can’t seem to look away from him, and he appears to be just as stuck. What is going on?
I’ve never had this kind of reaction to a man, not even Thad and I dated him for a few years. The thought of my ex has a shiver working up my spine, but not in a good way. No, that feeling is disgust and barely hidden revulsion.
While pushing thoughts of my ex away, I offer Rhodes a small smile. The one he gives me back is bright and bold in a way that has my heart racing in my chest.
“I hope you don’t mind eating lunch with me, Helen,” he drawls, the words feeling like a caress against my skin.
“Oh,” I exclaim softly, “I didn’t even realize. If you’d rather go and eat at a booth, I totally get it. I just popped in on my lunch break, and I find eating at the counter helps keep me on track instead of relaxing too much.”
I press my lips together, part of me mortified because I said so much and the hidden implications in my words. About how I don’t have anyone to eat lunch with. About how I’ve gotten used to being alone in this life.
The softness in Rhodes grey eyes tells me he sees all those layers. I blow out a thankful breath because he’s too good of a guy to call me out on the words left unsaid.
“I’m good at the counter if you are, Sweetheart.”
I blink at him a few times. There’s that pet name again. It should not have me wondering what it would sound like on his lips while my head his resting against his chest. His shirtless chest because if I’m going to fantasize, then I’m going to do it right.
Would the endearment sound like a rumble then? Would I feel it more than hear it?
As I clear my throat, I push aside the very real reaction my body is having with him this close to me.
“Are you sure you aren’t following me?” I playfully ask the question with narrowed eyes as I take in the man next to me, not registering the soft sounds in the diner around us because I’m so focused on him.
The man takes up all the space in the room and he’s not even aware of it. It should be annoying, but it’s endearing in a way I don’t fully understand.
Rhodes leans closer to me, his voice dropping an octave as he asks, “And what if I were, Helen?”
I freeze as his words filter through my mind and I try to make sense of them. When laughter bubbles out of me, I go with it and shake my head like he’s being silly.
Even though he smiles, I can see the seriousness in his eyes. Well, okay then.
“I think it would be kind of strange considering you’re you and I’m me,” I tell him honestly, my words flippant and past my lips before I can really give them a second thought.
He stiffens slightly and I replay the words in my head and grimace. Self-deprecation isn’t all that sexy, confidence is. But here we are. It’s not like I can take the words back now.
“I’m not sure what you mean,” his words are slow and measured, like he’s talking to someone he’s afraid of bolting at any moment—which isn’t too far off—while he keeps his face soft and open, “the part about you being you and me being me?”