2. Freya
Freya
“ I need three iced chocolates and an iced coffee. Two lattes, one of them is non-dairy substitute almond milk, and an iced tea with lemon on the side.”
Standing at the entry to the kitchen, I’m surprised to find solace in the cadence of my order. The Red Bird is located on the first floor of one of the oldest and most beautiful buildings in town—it’s also on the local historical register, thanks to the work and due diligence of Gran.
It’s all familiar to me—the sounds, the smells.
I’ve spent so many summers right here in this very restaurant helping Gran and then Aunt Maisey as they worked to keep the good people of Lake Lorelei fed and caffeinated.
It feels nostalgic, heartwarming, and bittersweet, all wrapped up into one ball of emotion.
The cafe is busy today, lively even, and awash in sunlight with arced golden rays reflecting off the chrome and stainless steel appliances.
The brick walls and muted interior add a historical feel for our customers, or guests, as Aunt Maisey likes to call them.
Her motto? “They’re guests in my cafe, so I’m going to treat them like family. ”
Well, I hope she likes her family super picky and pedantic, because that’s who’s sitting at table eight. “The faster you can get that order ready, the better. They said they want it yesterday, and they weren’t being funny.”
“Got it, I’ll hurry it up.” Maisey is expertly manning the barista station and is brewing coffee for the drinks, her sandy blonde hair pulled up in a high ponytail on the top of her head. “Oh, by the way, there’s a sandwich in the window for table ten. Can you drop it off?”
“Of course I can drop off food to that man you keep checking out. Although if you did it yourself, you could ask him over to the house. He could watch fireworks with you on the dock, you know.”
I can feel Maisey boring a hole in my back as I flit away to restock napkins.
I know she won’t dare try to come back at me with customers sitting at the counter privy to everything we are saying.
Does she think I’m dumb? I noticed the group she seated at table ten, and I noticed a certain cafe owner get anxious as soon as they sat down.
My aunt is normally not the kind of person who worries about her appearance.
She’s gorgeous no matter what, but today she’s rocking mascara and lipstick.
My money's on the hot, blue-eyed fireman who, from across the room, has been sneaking glances at Maisey himself.
I walk back over to the drink station with a tray and gather the order together, while dodging Maisey, who is in a giddy mood and play-smacking my arm as she leans in, whispering in my ear conspiratorially, “You shush, girl. I just like to flirt, okay, and Jack’s some pretty sweet eye candy. Sue me.”
“You want him to put out your fire?” I wiggle my eyebrows, knowing it looks weird and, bonus points, it made her nuts. “Is it a four-alarm rager or a couple of love logs sitting on a fire?”
“Stop that, keep those little caterpillars above your eyes under control. I don’t need anyone to put out any kind of fire.” She cocks her head to one side and stares in the distance. “And I’m going to ignore the fact you said love logs. That’s just weird.”
I balance the tray and begin walking backwards out of the kitchen, looking Maisey square in the eye, taunting her. Yet another joy of being so close to your family—you know how to poke the bear. “Maisey and Jack sitting in a tree… k-i-s-s?—”
Mid-sentence, I slam into what feels like a brick wall with such force that the wind is knocked right out of me.
The tray is in a precarious position and starting to do this toppling, teetering thing in my hands.
A back and forth wobble, if you will, with me trying to center its balance and prevent every glass and plate of food from being off like a slingshot into various directions around the kitchen and dining room.
To top it all off? I think my deodorant’s stopped working.
I watch whipped cream, from one of the iced coffee drinks, plop onto the tray, and the brick wall grows arms—really nice firm, muscular arms at that.
But I cannot concentrate on that right now.
Honestly, I have no idea who this is behind me, but they are helping me stabilize this drama, and I need the assistance.
Now both arms reach around me, my mystery hero hugging me close to his (hard) body so the tray stops rocking as he holds firm in his stance.
I find myself on steadier feet, and the tray calms down.
I mumble a thank you over my shoulder and bolt with the order.
I want to come back and thank Arms McGee properly.
I thread my way quickly through the dining area, dropping off drinks and food, including the crab cake club sandwich to Maisey’s fire daddy crush at table ten.
As soon as I’m done, I make my way back to the counter to find my hero.
The only two people I find when I go back are Pastor Michael Shannon and his super sweet wife, Patricia—Maisey’s regulars who sit at the counter for lunch at least four days a week.
I say hello as I peek through the kitchen door, where I find my aunt leaning against a wall chatting with someone who has their back to me. Seeing me, she waves me over.
“Freya, come here, I’ve got a surprise for you.”
I push the swinging door open, smoothing down my hair as I make my way over to them.
You know, just in case the mystery man turns out to be some absolute hottie, but I digress.
I see him in front of me and wow…the curves of his biceps blend flawlessly into broad, muscular shoulders.
I can’t help but imagine running my fingertips along the skin on the back of his tanned arms, and it makes me shudder.
Nonetheless, Maisey has a surprise for me.
“Well, I do love a good surprise…”
Maisey takes the mystery guy by the shoulders and turns him around.
Holy cow.
Wyatt?
“Hey, Freya.”
The surge of familiarity, nostalgia, and homegrown happiness is instantaneous.
It’s my Wyatt. Wyatt Hogan. Seeing him brings a flood of memories filled with chasing fireflies under the moonlit sky, skinned knees from falling off our bikes on dirt roads, and summer evenings running through fields playing hide and seek.
Both hands fly to my mouth in an effort to blanket my surprise as he covers the space between us to wrap me in a giant hug.
“Wyatt!!” I honestly can’t stop myself. I fling myself into his arms, and we hold on to one another, hugging and laughing for what feels like an eternity.
“Go easy on him, Freya,” Maisey teases. “He’s a fireman now, so we need him kept safe.” Is that pride I detect in my aunt’s voice?
“Wait. You’re a fireman now? ”
Grinning, Wyatt nods. “Guilty. I didn’t want to tell you until everything was official. That and it’s been a big year of change and a lot of studying.”
“He really is a fireman now, although I think Wyatt’s technically what’s called a probie, right?” Maisey looks at Wyatt for confirmation, which she receives in the form of a nod.
I step back to look at him, pointing to his head. “You got a haircut.”
“I figured it was time to lose the man bun.” Wyatt’s voice drips with sarcasm, but it’s sexy on him. “Plus I didn’t want it to catch fire.”
“Did it really get that long?”
Wyatt shakes his head, laughing out loud and making me laugh with him. I forgot how infectious his laugh could be. “No, but it was long enough. I’m happy to have it short. I can make my shampoo last so much longer now.”
“Good to know.” I nudge him in the ribs. “You’ve bulked up! I guess it’s for your job?”
“Leave him alone, Freya. He’s not just saving kittens in trees all day.
” She pushes me out of the way playfully as she hands Wyatt his takeout order.
“We love our essential workers here, Wyatt, so make sure to remind folks at the firehouse that all of you get seventy-five percent off food at all times, got it?”
Wyatt nods, tipping an invisible hat Maisey’s way. “Got it, Maisey, I’ll let them know.” He lifts the takeout bag. “Everyone’s orders are here?”
“You bet. And I made a note on Reid’s steak sandwich so Dylan doesn’t eat it by mistake again.”
“You’re the best. Thanks, Maisey.” He turns his attention back to me. “And look at you! Honestly, Freya, I had no idea that was even you when I came in. All I saw was someone struggling. Figured Maisey hired a new waitress who couldn’t keep up. ”
I narrow my eyes at him playfully. “So you had to wrap your arms around me?” Not that I was complaining.
“Well, you looked like a sumo wrestler about to fall off a balance beam.”
“Really. You’re going there? You know, I hold a lot of your secrets, Hogan, don’t mess with me. I know where your bodies are buried.”
Wyatt runs his fingers through his jet black hair. “You don’t scare me, Fredericks. The only time I fear you is when we play darts. Or when you’re driving a car, that can be horrific.”
“Lucky for you, I’m not doing either at this moment.
” I reach into my apron pocket, grab the keys to the John Deere, and hold them in the air.
“I drove the lawnmower to work today. Someone forgot to leave the car keys—I’m not naming names but we’ll say it rhymes with Daisy.
” Stepping back, I look him up and down.
“Gosh, Wyatt, I’ve not seen you in ages. ”
“It has been too long, especially if you’re being forced to drive lawnmowers.” His eyes dance with laughter, while my tummy starts doing tiny flips, back and forth, like a gymnastics team prepping for a meet. Standing in front of Wyatt, I feel a magnetic pull like I’ve not felt before. Ever.
What is going on?
Honestly, the guy in front of me, who was once a lanky school boy wearing enough braces for his mouth to pass for a railroad, was now a man. He was a man with defined, sculpted arms, tanned smooth skin, and a smile that was as warm and welcoming as it was perfect and charming.
Something was jumbled inside me. I must be confusing things. I mean, I’m back in town and thinking of moving home, and I’m in a place that holds a ton of sentimental value. I must be getting my feelings crossed, right?
Yet, the more Wyatt speaks, the more I find myself not really listening. I can only stare at his lips and think about how amazing it would be if I could stand on my tiptoes and brush my lips across his. Really slowly…
And there it is. That flame I hoped would burn out, the one that lit the torch I carry? I think it’s been reignited—it's not just Maisey who’s going to need a fire put out.
“Hey, Freya, did you hear me? I need you.”
Snapped back to the present, I look around and realize the bustle of the restaurant has intensified.
Maisey’s seating a new table, giving me an evil glare from across the room, and in the distance the bell starts to ding on repeat in the kitchen, signaling another order is ready and in the window for pick up.
“I’d love to talk more, but it looks like we’re about to get busy again.” I lean in closer to Wyatt and cross my arms. “You free later today?”
“Hmmm.” Wyatt’s dark brown eyes sparkle with flecks of gold reflecting the sunlight. “I’m supposed to hit the gym with my friend Dylan, but I’m sure I can postpone it. What are you thinking? Do I need to be free for an adventure? For a meal? A lifetime?”
I laugh as I grab the lunch ticket from the outstretched hand of the line cook and begin loading a tray with the next food order.
“We’ll start with an adventure, and the other parts can be up for negotiation.
” I finish placing the last of the plates on the tray before picking it up in one swift, fluid motion and sliding the tray to my shoulder for its delivery. No teetering this time. “Deal?”
“Deal.”
I spin on my heel to go, and Wyatt playfully blocks the doorway I need to go through.
Seems he doesn’t understand it's the lunch rush and I’ve got hot food to drop off to Lily Donnelly and her book club before they go to the library.
Don’t want to make them mad. Lily is known to throw her dentures when agitated. “Can a girl get past, please?”
He stands in front of me for another moment, and there’s this look on his face.
If I'm not mistaken, I just caught Wyatt looking me up and down, as in checking me out and letting his eyes have their way with my body—which would suck for me because I’m sweaty, my hair is pressed into my forehead, and I smell like chicken fingers.
We stand off for a moment before he moves to the side and waves his arm out in a chivalrous way as if pointing me forward.
“Of course, but the next time there will be a fee.”
Okay, that sounded coy. Flirty. I hear the huskiness in Wyatt’s tone, and it throws me.
It was like his words were G-rated, but the meaning carried an R-rated undertone.
I raise my eyes to his, my heart pounding.
I’m not sure what to do, and to be honest, all I can hear are my own words all those years ago, when I rationalized it would be better for us to be friends—I’d rather he be my friend forever than an ex-love. Right?
So, I do what’s best in the moment for me: I get outta dodge.
I give Wyatt my best mini-curtsy before sashaying through the door and beeline it to Lily's table, calling out over my shoulder I’d see him later.
As I place everyone’s orders in front of them—and move Lily’s water glass housing her dentures out of the way—a tingle sneaks its way up my spine.
I feel him watching me.
I turn around to look, and there he is. Standing right where I left him, watching my every move. To top it off, he’s doing it with this smile lazily draped across those full lips of his.
A voice inside my head screams at me to not go there.
But I am a very stubborn girl.