Chapter 12 #3
The first time we met, he took one good look at me—eyes scanning me from top to bottom like a judge at a beauty competition, must have decided that he didn’t like what he saw—all but audibly jeered, and the rest is history.
The guys continue down the hall, leaving me standing in my doorway, doing my best not to feel small after being snubbed by a six-foot-two firefighter with a personality like a January frost.
I return to my desk and pull out my phone, firing off a quick text to my younger brother Fabrizio.
Me: Remind me why I’m trying to be nice to everyone in this town?
Fab: Because you’re a people pleaser? A victim of your own cheerfulness? Shall I go on?
Me: That’s harsh.
Fab: But accurate. How’s the family fund coming? The parents are stress cases. I found Ma with a spoon in the cannoli filling last night.
My stomach tightens. I switch to my banking app—a habit I’ve developed over the past six months—and check the balance.
Still enough to send money home this month, but it’s getting tight.
Sorrentino’s Restaurant in Reno is bleeding cash, and nobody except my brother knows how bad it’s gotten.
Mom and Dad think I’m living my dream life in the mountains with the perfect job.
Even though Grandma feeds me well, they don’t know that I’m shaving corners to the bare bones to cover expenses at the restaurant.
Me: It’s fine. I’ll handle it.
Another fib. I’m full of them today.
“Winnie!” Mindy pokes her head into my office, frosting on her upper lip. “You’ll never guess what happened?”
“Hmm. You tripped over a unicorn and fell into Austin’s arms?”
She bounces on her toes. “Close. I asked him to Tacos & Trivia night.”
My eyes widen. She’s been talking about him nonstop for nine days, which, for one of Mindy’s infatuations, is a long time. She hops from one to another like a snowshoe hare before setting her sights on the next guy.
Mindy chatters excitedly about the town’s weekly tradition at Huck’s Lake View Diner. How it’ll also be great for me to network, make more connections, and get to know people outside of work.
I blink slowly, possibly having missed something she said. “I wasn’t planning to go out tonight—”
“Well, Austin said he’ll bring a friend, so I told him I will too. You, of course. After he gave me a Crush Cake, I said I’d love to be on a team with him tonight. He said yes, and the rest is happily ever after.” Hands in happy fists, she shakes her arms and bounces.
Sounds like someone is getting ahead of her skis. “Mindy, is this a double date?”
“What? No! Well,” she pauses. “I mean, it’s not officially a date. I’d like it to be. But it’s very casual!”
“I already have plans?” The sentence ends like a question rather than the declarative sentence I’d intended.
“Sitting on the couch next to your grandmother while she knits and you ask her for crossword puzzle clues from the last century?”
I like our routine. “It’s Tuesday.”
“Taco Tuesday.”
“No, I’m afraid I can’t do it.”
“Winnie,” she says with a plea in her voice.
“I’m focusing on work right now.” And helping my family.
“I don’t have time for dating.” Even if I do want romance.
Even if I lie awake at night in Grandma’s guest room, imagining what it would be like to find someone who sees me as more than just the helpful, capable girl who solves everyone else’s problems.
“It’s tacos and trivia,” Mindy says as if that sweetens the deal. When I don’t agree, she adds, “It’s not a marriage proposal or even anything endorsed by the super-secret society of true love matches.”
“Is that a thing?”
“No, but we should start it! Anyway, I wouldn’t mind something serious with Austin—”
“What about Josh?”
“That was ages ago.”
“Ten days.”
She pouts. “Come on. When’s the last time you did something fun?”
I open my mouth to argue, but she says, “See you there,” before hurrying down the hall.
* * *
***
Four hours later, I’m standing outside Huck’s Lake View Diner making a mental U-turn before I very well make a physical one.
The restaurant sits in a prime location with a beautiful view of the frozen lake.
It’s an odd combination of knotty pine, chrome, vintage décor, and neon.
A massive carved wooden statue of a Chickaree squirrel—Huckleberry Hill’s beloved mascot—guards the entrance.
The locals call him Gus, and his tail is worn smooth from decades of visitors rubbing it for good luck.
I feel like it’s staring at me. Taunting me. Daring me to go inside.
Alright, squirrel. It’s on!
I give it a quick pat as I pass. Can’t hurt.
Inside, the tables are packed. Seems like half the town showed up for Taco Tuesday.
I spot my grandmother Joyce at a corner table with Judy Waples—Huckleberry Hill’s most legendary frenemies.
They dub themselves the “Golden Grandmas” while bickering about their longtime baking rivalry and gossiping about everyone within a five-mile radius.
Grandma waves enthusiastically when she sees me.
I wave back, worried she’s going to make a public declaration that I’m single.
She’s been not-so-subtly hinting that I should find a nice man and settle down in town permanently.
That’s not part of my life plan. It’s help her with the house, send money home to Reno, prove myself professionally, and eventually move back to the city where I belong.
That’s the plan, and I’m sticking to it!
“Winnie! Over here!” Mindy pops out of her seat at a table near the center of the room. Next to her sits Austin James, smiling as usual as he sends a text.
Across from him, wearing a plaid flannel shirt and jeans, along with an expression like he just got sentenced to swim across the lake in the bitter cold, sits Patton Cross.
No!
Oh no, no, no. This can’t be the friend Austin brought. He must make the connection because he stares at me with burning, murderous fire in his eyes.
Naturally, I offer a friendly wave.
He lifts his drink in a mock salute and then turns away like the grouch he is.
My stomach swoops as if I just crested the top of a roller coaster.
Frozen in the narrow passageway between tables, Peggy, a server, approaches with a tray topped with drinks. I consider fleeing, but Grandma watches me with eagle eyes, along with Mayor Barbara Johnson, aka “Mayor Barbie,” who just walked in and spotted me.
Retreat is not an option.
I blame the squirrel!
And Mindy!
I should’ve asked her who Austin was bringing. Of course, it would be someone from the fire department. Should I be surprised or just accept it?
Plastering on a smile, I slide into the empty seat across from Patton. His jaw tightens. I’m getting good at reading his arrogant micro-expressions, mostly because they’re the only expressions he has other than stone-cold serious.
“Hi,” I say brightly. “Fancy meeting you here. Small world.”
“Austin dragged me here,” he replies, as if that explains why he looks like he’d rather be fighting a wildfire.
“Mindy invited me. What a coincidence.”
Meanwhile, she’s beaming at Austin. They’re both oblivious to the timer ticking down on the TNT between Patton and me.
Peggy appears with menus and a basket of chips. I order a water and the a la carte bean tacos because my bank account is crying.
Patton orders the loaded nachos without looking at the menu.
Mindy and Austin talk about a television show that his best friend recommended—why couldn’t that be the person he brought on this “double date?!”
I reach for conversation the way a drowning person grapples for a life preserver and ask Patton, “So, how’s the bakery renovation going?”
“Fine.”
“Have you come up with a name? Made a sign?”
“We’re working on it.”
“Great. That’s great.” Lips pressed together, my legs jitter under the table.
Silence flops between us like a wet blanket.
Having come from a family of talkers—except apparently about the true state of the restaurant—I try again. “Have you ever done trivia night before? I’m pretty good at pop culture and history. Are there teams or—?”
He interrupts, “I play alone.”
I mutter, “It’s trivia, not solitaire.”
He grunts.
I use the smile I reserve for people who’re dangling at the end of my patience. “Suit yourself.”
The trivia host—Ray “Lucky” Donahoo, a former card dealer who fled Reno after a “misunderstanding” with some casino enforcers, but still wears his dealer’s visors and sleeve garters—takes the microphone and announces the rules.
Teams of two. Six rounds with an elimination between each.
Five questions in each round, with sequentially increasing difficulty.
The winner gets a miniature version of the town’s beloved squirrel statue and dinner on the house.
All participants confer to confirm that the big statue’s tail was rubbed before the game starts.
Mindy and Austin exchange a nod.
Patton rolls his eyes.
“You really aren’t a team player, are you?” I ask.
“Only when it matters.” Something flickers in his hazel eyes—amusement or annoyance, it’s hard to say—before it disappears behind his usual mask of indifference.
Maybe that’s where he got the nickname “Maverick,” not that I pay attention to these things. Our food arrives, and much like the Crush Cakes from earlier today, he refuses to share his nachos.
I asked for a bite to test a hypothesis: the man is a selfish, self-serving jerk.
Results: affirmative.
We end up on a team together because Mindy and Austin insist, whether he likes it or not.
Spoiler alert: he doesn’t like it.
Evidence: his scowl.
Make that both of us, buster!
Patton really grinds my gears. Would it kill him just to play Captain Courtesy for sixty minutes of his life and try to be friendly?
Actually, probably.
The first trivia round is local geography. Austin and Mindy get one, and I’m about to contribute when Patton cuts me off with the correct answer, even though we’re on the same team.
“I was going to say that,” I mutter.
“Too slow.”