Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
GRANT
“You’re new here,” the man behind the butcher counter comments.
I smile back at him. “I am. Just got into town a few days ago.”
“How long are you here for? You stayin’ out at the ranch?”
“Here for good.”
He smiles at me. “Good to have you. I’m Mr. Moore. I own this place.”
“Grant Prescott. Nice to meet you.”
“Now, what can I get you?”
“I’ll take four of your brats.”
“Good choice. I’ll throw an extra couple in. On the house.”
“That’s awfully nice of you,” I say.
“It’s what we do around here.” He plops six sausages onto a tray and wraps them in brown paper. “If you need help finding anything, just let me know.”
“I will. Thanks again.”
Pulling out my phone, I find the list of everything we need. We sustained ourselves mainly on takeout for the first few days, but I don’t want to keep that up.
Spices. Paper towels. Cooking spray. Anything and everything is on my list. I take my time, meandering down each aisle, filling my cart with what I think we’ll need.
Luke is going to eat me out of house and home with the amount of food he can put away.
Turning from one aisle to another, an older woman stops me.
“Are you the new guy Mr. Moore was just telling me about?”
The basket in her arms is full of odds and ends.
“I am. Word gets around fast here,” I say.
“I’m Betty. I work down at the Hash ’N Hop. Why don’t you come on by some time for breakfast? My treat.”
“I’m Grant. That’s nice of you, Betty,” I say, fidgeting with the back of my baseball hat. “I’ll have to check with my schedule and see what day works.”
“Any day is fine.” She waves me off. “We’re always open. Now, what brings you to town?”
“I’m the new coach of the Loggers.”
Her eyes light up. “Oh, how wonderful. Pete did a great job. We’re very proud that he got called to another team. We’re hoping he wins a championship.”
“I just hope I can keep up the good work he started.”
She pats me on the arm. “I think you will. The Loggers are a good bunch of boys, even if they can get a bit rowdy at the after-parties.”
“The after-parties?” I quirk a brow at her.
She beams at me, pink bandanna holding her hair back. “Oh, yes. I always keep the diner open late after the games so they can come have a bite to eat. You’re welcome to join them.”
“I wouldn’t want to intrude.”
“Nonsense. You’re the coach. You’ll have to join.” She points down at her basket. “I have to get back to the diner, but it was nice to meet you, Grant. I’ll see you there soon.”
“Thanks, Betty. It was nice to meet you too.”
Before I can get halfway through the bread aisle, I’m stopped by another two people. If I were in LA, I would already be out of the store. Everyone is in and out, not even wanting to make eye contact with anyone else.
Here, everyone wants to know my life story.
What brought me to town?
Am I married?
Dating anyone?
Kids?
Favorite kind of parakeet?
That last one threw me for a loop, but the kid was six. At this rate, I’m going to be at the store until midnight getting the shopping done. Maybe if I’m lucky, no one else will stop me.
But it seems since I’m the new guy in town, that won’t be happening.
Keeping my head down to not draw any more eyes, I’m not paying attention to where I’m going and crash into something. Not something—someone.
“Shit.”
“Oh my God.”
Two carts spin into a display of refried beans. Cans roll down the aisle in a noisy clatter while one pops open at my feet.
“I’m sorry,” I say.
So much for making quick work of the rest of this trip.
Kneeling, I clean up the cans, my arms now bursting with them. My hand brushes against a softer one and it sends a jolt of heat through me.
Glancing up, I lock eyes with the one person I didn’t plan on seeing tonight.
“Georgia. Hi.”
Her blue eyes are wide in shock. Pink colors her cheeks. She looks so different from the first night we met, but just as gorgeous in a denim shirt etched with the ranch logo and a cowboy hat.
“Grant? What are you doing here?”
“Knocking over cans of beans.” I laugh.
She stands, a few cans still rolling around her booted feet. I follow her up, standing a good head taller than her.
“I mean in town. Is there another tournament?”
I set everything back down on the end cap. “Actually, I moved here.”
“You did?”
“The new head coach of the Loggers. I’m surprised you didn’t hear it around the store.”
“What?”
I smile at her. “I think I’ve met every person in the store in this aisle alone.”
“Oh, right. Well, you will be the hot topic of conversation around town.”
“I’m hoping it’ll die down soon.”
Her eyes, if possible, get even wider. “Yeah, right. I’m sure it will.”
“How are you? It’s been a minute.”
A lot of minutes, actually. Not that I’ve been counting, but Georgia often comes to mind when she shouldn’t.
That night with her was one of the best I’ve had in a long time.
I only hate that I had to run out on her so early.
But when the team called to tell me we were leaving, I couldn’t stick around.
“Would you want to grab dinner sometime?”
Not quite an answer, but hell, I’ll take any more time I can get with her.
“Sure. I’d like that.”
She shuffles back and forth on her feet. It seems she’s more than a little nervous that she bumped into me.
More like collided with me and cans of refried beans, but…semantics.
“Want to meet at the Emporium sometime this week?”
I give her an easy smile. “What’s the Emporium?”
“Pinecrest Pancake Emporium. It’s one of my favorite places.”
“Pancakes for dinner.” I nod. “I like it.”
“Thursday at seven?” she asks.
“That sounds good.” I nod. “I’m really glad I bumped into you.”
“You sure about that?”
This time, she returns my smile before looking down at my tennis shoes.
“I could do without the refried beans, but Mr. Moore likes me. Gave me two extra brats.”
“Doesn’t take much to win him over. He’s a huge Loggers fan.”
“Then I’ll be sure to get him some tickets.”
“He’ll be your number one fan.” Georgia grabs her cart, spinning around. “Do you want me to help you clean that up?”
“I can take care of it.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah. I’ll see you Thursday.”
Before I can even ask her for her number, she’s running out of the store like she can’t get away fast enough.
If she hadn’t asked me to dinner, I would think it never happened.
At least one good thing happened at the store. Like running into the woman I can’t stop thinking about.
I guess there are some perks of a small town.