Chapter 21 Rose
When Wes pulls up, I find myself catching my breath all over again and then reminding myself that this is just Wes. We kissed and we said we’d be friends. I should feel secure in that. I said I wanted to move slowly, figure all this out. Slow. Then I was weird at the festival prep . . . ugh. But I haven’t had another attack around him.
Am I ready to be with him? I don’t think I am . I suddenly feel low about struggling with things again and have to look down to compose myself before looking back up at him and his truck. Wes gets out and comes over to open my door, leaning in as I step up.
I try to settle myself as much as possible before he gets in. I thought this would feel weird, and it does feel strange, but not like I thought it would. Wes seems a little off, a little reserved, and I can’t tell if I’m imagining it from my nerves, or if something else is going on. I try to push it to the side for now and focus on enjoying our time together, whatever that might mean.
“So, what are we doing tonight?” I ask after the quintessential small talk about helping at the festival.
“I thought we could just head over to Dan’s for dinner? He’s got some live music playing there tonight. How does that sound?” he asks with a nervous look on his face, his voice wavering in a strange octave.
“That sounds great, it’s a perfect night to be outside too. A little warmer than it’s been.” A local place. That feels like we’re actually friends catching up. We’re doing great.
“Are you sure it’s okay? I know it’s nothing special for you.” I try to ignore the thoughts of anywhere with Wes being special, but they leak through anyways.
What is this man doing to my emotions?
“Yes, I’m fine. I love Dan’s. It’s a perfect idea. How are you doing, though? I heard the park was hit really hard by the storm the other night. I meant to ask you about it at the Sprouts prep.” He looks pretty tired and I wonder if he was up all night.
“Yeah, it was. No one was hurt at the campground, but it definitely kept me busy today. You look nice.” He’s commenting on how I look again? I make a mental note to stop trying to figure this out and just go with the flow of the night. Nothing good can come from analyzing every word he says. Like I’ll be able to stop doing that.
“Oh, thanks. I’m back to my usual—jeans and t-shirt. Nothing fancy.”
“You always look beauti—” He coughs, like he didn’t mean to say that which makes me smile. I try to resist teasing him about it but can’t resist.
“Beautiful? Is that what you meant to say Mr. Flannel?” Mr. Flannel was my name for him in middle school because he wore it every single day. Summer time? Flannel over a tee and shorts. Winter? Flannel, jeans, and boots. He’s nothing if not practical. It’s one of the things I love about him. Like. Like about him.
“Mr. Flannel, how do you even remember that? And this is a dress shirt, not flannel.”
“It looks like a flannel—it’s plaid.” Pointing a finger at the fabric, I raise my eyebrows at him as he looks down and brushes a hand over his shirt. He pulls it tightly and I can’t help but notice how his arm muscles stand out against the fabric and his stomach seems impossibly tight. I zone out for a minute before I look up to see him smiling at me. I get a little lost in the warmth of his eyes before he looks back at the road again. I sigh and take another breath as I notice a field of wildflowers and point them out to Wes. They’ve always been my favorite.
We’re quiet for a while, the soft country music from the radio floating on the air, the breeze through the windows gently blowing my hair before he says, “Will you tell me more about your shop now? How did you decide on opening it?”
“In college I studied business and did a study abroad in the UK. I fell in love with tea while I was there and made it a focus for my final project. I knew from high school, and working at the agate shop, that I wanted to run my own in Raspberry Falls, so it seemed like a perfect opportunity. There are coffee shops here and there, but not too many for tea and books. It’s also something both locals and tourists can enjoy so it has a greater market share . . .” I trail off, realizing I’m getting too much into my business speak. “Sorry, I usually save all this business talk for Chloe.”
His eyes flicker with something I can’t tell. “I saw Chloe yesterday at the prep for the carnival.” I nod. He’s being weird. Did something happen between him and Chloe? He shakes his head. “Anyway, I like hearing you talk about all the business stuff. You seem really amazing at it.”
Continuing on, I add, “Thanks! But yeah, when I moved back from school I talked with my mom and together we decided to purchase the old bookshop and turn it into a tea and bookstore. I wanted to keep the books to honor the history of the shop, and the shop has been open ever since.”
“Do you enjoy it? The day-to-day busy-ness of running the store?”
“Sometimes it feels mundane. It’s a small life, but I love getting to meet people, talking with customers, and sharing the stories that I love with other people. I think it’s creating a little community for people here.”
“I can see that. After you left the Sprouts prep, Mabel told me her crochet club and sewing group meets at your shop.”
“Oh, you saw Mabel, did you?”
“Yes, it was horrible. I’ll smell like her for weeks. But it sounds like you’re helping the busy bodies of Raspberry Falls get their fill of the county’s gossip.” He smiles over at me and that spark I keep trying to ignore flickers again. Switching to look back at the road, I try to think of something to change the subject.
“How about you? You fulfilled your dream of becoming a park ranger. How did that happen?”
“It was this place,” Wes says, shaking his head. “I missed it so much when I was gone—the land, the trees, the lake, the people.” At this he looks at me and I have to look away. “And I just needed to do something that kept me connected, somehow.” His words land with a thud and I grow quiet. Connected? But he couldn’t stay connected to me. I know we talked briefly about that part, but it still stings and probably always will.
“That makes sense—get you outside and help others enjoy it.”
“Exactly. It felt like a lot of school for me, and then the extended training, but it was good. It kept me busy and I got to travel around the country a little to see different programs. When I saw there was an opening here, I jumped at the chance.”
He reaches over as if he’s going to put his hand on my thigh like he did when we were younger, then catches himself and fiddles with the air freshener instead. He talks more about the programs and parks he’s visited and I feel everything in me turn right again.
Maybe I can do this no-analyzing thing after all.