Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
Trudy
“Nana?”
“Yes, dear?” I looked over at my granddaughter as she walked through the swinging doors that led to the kitchen.
“Have you seen Tyler?”
I turned my head so Pati couldn’t see my smile. “I believe he said something about going down to the hardware store.”
Pati took a deep breath, and I could almost hear her counting inside her head. Without a word, she ripped the apron off her waist and tossed it on the counter. Her steps were slow but heavy as she walked to the front exit.
“Pati, stop,” I called when her hand reached out to push the door open.
“Nana, don’t,” she snapped.
“What is the harm in him hanging out down at the store? You know Elbert won’t let him get away with anything.”
“That’s not the point, Nana.” Her voice was laced with frustration as she turned and walked back to me. “He can’t just take off whenever he wants without saying anything.”
I knew she was right, but I also knew that wasn’t what was bothering her. My granddaughter was more concerned with her son getting attached to the man who ran the hardware store.
“He needs a man in his life,” I reminded her as the bell over the door jingled. “At least he isn’t hanging out with bikers and their bad influence.”
“You love those bikers,” Pati cut back.
“Not all of them.” I spun around and walked into the kitchen, leaving Pati to serve the frustratingly sexy man who just walked in.
He’d been coming in more and more, ordering nothing but a coffee and sitting in the window reading that journal.
The more he read, the sadder he looked. I wasn’t sure how much longer I could watch his heart break without ripping that thing out of his hands so I could see what he was reading.
See what was making him so damn emotional.
Stephen Hartley was showing me a side of himself that was burrowing under my skin, and I didn’t like it one little bit. I refused to call him Popeye. The name was ridiculous; even if his biceps were as big as the cartoon character he was named after.
I sat on the stool and stared at the swinging doors, half expecting him to walk through them after me.
Six months he’d been coming into the bakery.
Six months of his flirting, asking me to dinner, and offering to make me breakfast, as if I didn’t know what he was implying with that remark.
Six months of me turning him down.
I didn’t want to admit it, but my resolve was waning.
He’d been in every day this week, drinking his coffee by the window as he read that damn journal.
Forcing me to watch his emotions spiral between smiles and frowns.
The way his brows pulled in with confusion and frustration.
Days of watching his fist clench in anger at whatever was written on those pages.
The door swung in, and Pati shook her head at me. She didn’t say a word as she pulled ingredients off the shelves and got to work making something. Judging by the measurements, my guess was muffins.
“Are you going to say something?” I asked when she started humming.
She shook her head without looking my way, and when I huffed out my frustration, she smiled.
“Patricia Elaine Rose,” I snapped, stomping my foot.
Her eyes blinked my way briefly before focusing back on the task she had started. I rolled my eyes and stomped out of the kitchen. When I entered the main storefront, my eyes searched the room for him without my consent.
I had no control over any part of my body when it came to Stephen Hartley. My heart raced, my skin prickled, my nipples hardened, and we wouldn’t even talk about the moisture between my legs. I was sixty-eight freaking years old; that part of me died years ago.
I remembered a conversation I had with Cash last year about Terry and what we’d promised each other. I promised my late husband I would attempt to meet someone when he was gone. And I did, at first.
Terry had been gone almost twenty-five years now. It was five years before I even considered dating someone. I loved that man something fierce and couldn’t imagine someone else taking his place. I couldn’t fathom trusting someone else enough to tell my secrets to, my dreams.
There were a few men I dated, mostly because, well, a girl had needs and I was only in my forties when Terry passed away. There were two men I thought might go the distance.
Frank was a nice man. Friendly and caring. I liked him, but I didn’t love him. Not the way I loved Terry. We had an enjoyable time together; we went to the movies and to the town festivals. But there was no spark. No flames that burned hot enough to stoke my insides.
I peeked across the room to where Stephen sat reading that damn book. Today was an angry day. His hands gripped the journal tightly, making his knuckles turn white.
The urge to rush over there and snatch it away from him was so strong. I hated seeing him this way. Hated seeing him in pain, because that was what his anger was.
Pain.
It was obvious from the way he would stop every few minutes to look out the window and take a deep breath. He’d close his eyes briefly and then turn back to the pages in front of him.
I shook my head and focused back on my work. The bell over the door jingled, and Harold Foster walked in. He was the other man I had considered letting fully into my life. He’d been passionate, attentive.
What we’d had couldn’t be described as sparks. They were scorching flames. The man knew how to please a woman. But his children had gotten between us.
They weren’t happy about their father moving on after their mother passed away. Or maybe it was just me they didn’t like. Edith, Harold’s wife, still smiled as though she’d won. As if she had been able to give Harold something I couldn’t.
They got married years ago, and every time she came in here, she was a smug bitch. Just like today.
“Hello, Trudy,” Edith greeted.
I plastered a smile on my face as Harold winced at his wife’s fake sweetness.
“Hello, Edith. What can I get you two?”
I noticed Stephen look up at the sound of my voice; the surprise on his face told me he’d been too caught up in the words on the page to hear the bell, but the sound of my voice had cut through.
I wouldn’t lie; it made my stomach flutter much like it did every time he showed me the smallest amount of attention.
“We need to place an order for a cake.”
“Alright,” I said, grabbing the order form off the counter behind me. “Is this for an occasion?” I looked between them both, waiting for the answer.
Harold looked away as if he were uncomfortable, but Edith had that same smug look she always had, only this time it was... more.
“It’s our ten-year anniversary. The kids wanted us to have a party. They’ve been just so happy to have me in their lives, they want to celebrate.”
Ten years already?
“Well, congratulations.” I did my best to sound happy for them. But the look on her face told me she thought I was jealous.
Which I wasn’t.
Sure, Harold was great in bed, but he wasn’t exactly the kind of man you could have in-depth conversations with.
We’d had a lot of fun and, to be honest, if it hadn’t been for his kids, I might have stayed with him just for the sex.
But I guess that was why Edith was perfect for him.
He wanted someone to take care of him. Someone to dote on him, and while I had done that very thing for Terry, it was because I was so damn in love with him.
I never would have felt that kind of love for Harold.
“You’ll come, of course.” Edith’s voice broke into my thoughts, and I looked up at her blankly.
“What?” I asked, confused.
“To our celebration.” Edith smiled, and I knew she was begging me to make an excuse so she could tell the world I was jealous of what they had.
“The whole town is invited,” Harold cut in.
I turned to look at him when Edith’s voice rang out, “You can bring a date, of course. If you have one.” Her voice was so smug. She knew I wasn’t seeing anyone. Hell, the whole town knew. There were no secrets in this town.
“We’d be happy too,” Stephen’s voice rang out as his arm slipped around my waist from behind me. My body stiffened briefly and then relaxed into him when I saw Edith’s eyes widen.
Harold’s eyes dropped to where Stephen’s arm banded around me, then lifted to mine.
“I didn’t know you were seeing anyone,” Edith said, her eyes on Stephen.
“She’s been mine for six months. Just took her a while to accept it,” Stephen filled in. “So, when is this party?”
I wrote the details on autopilot as Edith gave them to me, my mind not fully present in the moment with Stephen’s body pressed against mine. It was a wonder I could think at all. His thumb grazed the underside of my breast, and all I could focus on was the thought of his hand moving higher.
When Edith started talking about how she and Harold started dating and how much his kids loved her, Stephen leaned in and brushed his lips against the shell of my ear.
“Congratulations on ten years,” Stephen said. “We look forward to celebrating with you.”
His voice left no doubt that his words were a dismissal. There was a hardness to his tone, and Harold paid for the order and rushed his wife out of the bakery.
As soon as the door closed, I spun around and pushed Stephen away.
“What the hell was that?”
Pati slipped through the doors and asked, “Was that Harold and Edith?”
“Yes,” I snapped, my eyes still on Stephen. “They ordered a cake for their anniversary party.”
“The audacity of that woman! I’ll cancel it and refund his card.”
“You will do no such thing.” I turned to Pati. “This bakery does not discriminate.”
“Nana, you can’t honestly think I would bake a cake for them after?—”
“Patricia,” I hissed, cutting her off. “This is a business.” I turned and faced Stephen. “You don’t belong back here.”
Stephen’s smile was arrogant, as if he knew exactly what Pati was about to reveal. He moved back to the other side of the counter but didn’t return to his seat by the window. Instead, he leaned against the counter.
“So, will you wear something short and low cut?” he asked.
“I am not going.”
“Of course you aren’t going,” Pati agreed. “Why would you go?”
“Because they invited the whole town,” Stephen informed her. “And I told them we’d be happy to go.”
“There is no we,” I reminded him. “You are free to go, but I am not.”
“Now, Trudy, you don’t want people to think you’re jealous, do you?” he asked, as if he had been inside my head during the entire interaction.
“Why would I be jealous?”
“Clearly you had some kind of relationship with the man. High school sweethearts?”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” I walked away to wipe down the tables that hadn’t been used all morning. I needed something to do.
“Nana dated Harold right before Edith, but Harold’s kids didn’t approve.”
“Patricia!” I spun around and glared at my granddaughter. “Do I smell muffins burning?”
“No, you don’t, but fine.” She looked at Stephen. “Edith is the one who’s jealous because while Nana got over Harold just fine, he never got over her.” Pati turned on her heel and dashed into the kitchen before I could scold her again.
“I can understand that,” Stephen said as he leaned back against the counter, watching me. His arms were partially crossed over his chest, as his thumb rubbed along his bottom lip, and his eyes tracked up and down my body.
“Understand what?” I demanded.
“Harold not being able to get over you.” As he stalked across the room, every step closer made my heart beat faster, until he was standing directly in front of me.
His chest was a hair’s breadth away from mine, and as I looked up into his eyes, he said, “I haven’t been able to get you out of my head for six fucking months.
” He leaned in close, and just as my eyes fluttered, he added, “And I haven’t even tasted you yet. ”
He stepped to the side, grabbed the journal he’d left on the table, and stopped in front of the door, looking back over his shoulder at me.
“See you tomorrow, darlin’,” he said. “Same time. Same table.”
Then he strolled out the door as if he hadn’t just turned me inside out.