Chapter 1 #2
“Iris Sampson, wear-er of black t-shirts, known about the land for her sharp tongue, and apparently, a pickle lover.”
“Sharp tongue?”
“The sharpest. I’ve been told to not get on your bad side.”
“Funny. I’ve been told to stay away from you.”
“My reputation precedes me.” He crossed one ankle over the other. I kept my eye on the cake. Just in case it looked like it might tumble to the ground. “What do they say?”
“Keep the women away from him. His tattoos and long hair will hypnotize them. They won’t be able to resist his magnetism.”
He laughed. It was a nice laugh, low and smooth. “They do not say that.”
“They do. They say that you’re a charmer and a flirt. You were a whole agenda item on the last town hall meeting.”
“Oh, really?” He grinned slowly, and I clocked his dimple. Oh, that was a dangerous thing, that dimple. Absolutely diabolical.
“Yep. You came in between Mr. Cotton’s ongoing concerns about alien abductions and the announcement that peanuts were no longer allowed at the bake sale.” Truthfully, the peanut ban discussion had become very heated.
“Mr. Cotton was obsessed with aliens when I was a kid.”
I shrugged, hugging the pickle jar tighter. “It’s Two Harts. Not much changes around here.” I loved that about our small town. “How did you know I was in here?”
“I saw you.” The corners of his eyes crinkled when he smiled. Aidan didn’t have eye crinkles. Aidan’s eyes were darker, too, like melted chocolate. “Don’t worry. I didn’t tell anyone. I figured you had your reasons.”
“Oh. Well, thanks.”
“I thought you should at least get a piece of cake.” He lifted the plate higher. “You gonna take it?”
“I haven’t decided yet.”
His gaze focused on my face, so long I wanted to squirm. “You’re lying.”
“I am not,” I lied, staring back at him with a bored expression.
I’d learned that it wasn’t anger or sadness that got to people, it was apathy.
If nothing mattered, then nothing could hurt me.
Aidan was the first person I’d let see inside.
But being vulnerable had taught me a lesson—it led to heartache. No more of that.
He smirked. “Yes, you are.”
“No, I’m not.” I was a good liar. It was my superpower. There was no way he could tell.
“Hard-headed, too.” Abe set the plate on the closest empty shelf I’d just cleared. “You should meet my daughter. You have a lot in common.”
“Oh? She’s amazing then?”
“Obviously.” He pointed. “You gonna put that down?”
I hugged the pickles closer, like a shield. “No, I’m good.”
With a soft laugh, he gently tugged the jar from me, his fingers brushing mine. I frowned at the tingle of awareness that traveled up my arm. He set it on a shelf and held out the plate. After a moment’s hesitation, I took it. A fork appeared from the pocket of his jeans.
“What did the cake say to the fork?” Abe wagged the utensil in front of me.
Instead of replying, I grabbed it and took a huge bite. My eyes slid closed at the first taste.
“You’re looking sharp today.”
My eyes snapped open. “Did you just dad-joke me?”
“It’s a talent.” He slid his hands into his pockets and studied me.
I took another bite of my cake and studied him back.
He was maybe an inch shorter than my five feet nine inches, but he seemed to take up all the space anyway.
Wide shouldered with arms that strained the sleeves of his t-shirt taut and jeans that hung low on his hips.
He looked… capable, strong, comfortable with his body.
A guy who could probably handle himself in a dark alley.
Or a biker bar. Like he could wrestle bears; Aidan looked like he’d be better at hiding from said bear.
Abe raised one dark eyebrow. “How is it?”
“It’s good,” I said with a shrug. Inside, my sweet tooth was practically fainting in ecstasy. The way to my heart had always been chocolate.
I plopped down on the stepladder. Cake, I mused as I carefully ate the inside layers and filling, would never break my heart or hide from bears. Cake’s intentions were pure.
“Why aren’t you eating the frosting?” Abe asked.
“I save that for the end. The frosting is the best part.”
“Do you do that with everything? Save the best for last?”
I paused, the fork halfway to my mouth. “Doesn’t everyone?”
“I’ve found most people take the best first and leave the rest for everyone else.”
“Wow. That was deep,” I said. “Did you read it in a fortune cookie?”
“Nah, made that one up all by myself.” He watched me while I dug back into the cake, a thoughtful expression on his face. “So why are you really hiding?”
I set the almost empty plate on a shelf and rubbed my hands on my thighs. He was easy to talk to, and I guess I wanted to tell someone. “My ex decided to surprise me. I had no idea he was coming.”
“I think I saw you talking to him. With the glasses and the polo shirt? I thought he was your accountant.”
I glared at him. “I like his glasses and polo shirts. And he’s a very good accountant.”
He grinned. “Are you not on good terms?”
“It’s… complicated.” I stared down at my lap. “He brought his fiancée.”
“The plot thickens.”
“She’s nice. Just got her first teaching job—kindergarten,” I said quickly. “I think she hates me.”
He grabbed an empty five-gallon bucket from a stack in the corner. After flipping it over, he perched on the edge. His knee brushed my leg. The small space seemed to shrink a little more. “And the feeling is mutual?”
“She’s… okay.”
“Lying again,” he murmured.
“Fine. She’s tiny and bird-like and she has sweatshirts for every holiday. Swear to you, she had one for Arbor Day. What even is Arbor Day?”
“It’s a day to celebrate—”
I cut him off. “I don’t care about Arbor Day. Read the room.”
Instead of looking offended, he grinned. “Apologies. That’s it, then. You’re avoiding the ex.”
I slumped, a wave of misery mixing with the cake and making me nauseated. “He came to wish me happy birthday and to ask me to be the best woman at his wedding.”
“What is that?”
“It’s a best man except… a woman.”
“Oh, right.”
“They moved the wedding from October to July. They didn’t want their wedding anniversary to be during the school year.
But with the date change, his cousin, who was supposed to be the best man, had a conflict with the new date…
I am the lucky substitute.” It had stung that I hadn’t even been his first choice.
“Do you know what this means? I have a month to find a plus one. But not just any plus one. I need the plus one of all plus ones. Someone who isn’t anything like Aidan. Someone who says, ‘I am so over him.’”
He tilted his head. “Are you? Over him?”
“Yes. No. I don’t know. It’s all so confusing. Sometimes I don’t think he’s over me, either.” I swallowed. “He kissed me the day before he proposed to her.”
Abe’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t like him.”
I huffed a surprise laugh. “You don’t even know him. Or me, for that matter. I did kiss him back.”
“Were you almost engaged at the time?”
“Well, no, but—”
He interrupted me. “Did you initiate the kiss?”
“No, I—”
“Then he’s the jerk. Period.” He nodded once for emphasis and the hair tucked behind his right ear tumbled forward. He brushed it back impatiently.
“Then why am I the one who feels so guilty?” I asked out loud, more to myself.
“Because you are not a jerk.” He stood and replaced the bucket he’d been sitting on.
I rubbed my eyes, a wave of exhaustion washing over me. Why had I told him all of this? The only person I’d confided in was Gloria and she could keep a secret. “I shouldn’t have told you that.”
“It’s between you and me.”
“Thanks,” I said softly, unable to look him in the eye.
Several beats of silence filled the supply closet. Someone was singing (I use that word loosely) an earsplitting rendition of “I Will Always Love You.” I shuddered in horror for myself, for everyone in earshot, for humanity.
He touched my shoulder. “I could go with you.”
“What?” I blinked, confused.
He crouched in front of me. “To the wedding. I could go with you.”
“That’s…” I shook my head. “No one in their right mind would offer that. You can’t be serious.”
But he wasn’t grinning, there was no twinkle in his eye, no hint of a “Ha! Got you!” He looked very, very serious. “It’s not that big of a deal.”
It was a huge deal and a ridiculous idea. I couldn’t take Abe Ramos to Aidan’s wedding… Could I?
Although… Abe was the complete opposite of Aidan. He was older, he was covered in tattoos and piercings and he had a past. He’d be… kind of perfect.
“But why would you do that?” I squinted, suddenly suspicious.
“It’s your birthday.” When I still hesitated, he continued, “Think of it as a favor. You’ll owe me one.”
I bit my bottom lip. It wasn’t like I had a lot of options.
I hadn’t been in a relationship since Aidan.
I mean, I wasn’t completely pathetic; there had been dates.
But my stupid feelings always got in the way of anything becoming serious.
Abe wasn’t my type at all and that made him safe.
No feelings. A favor between friends. And surely he wouldn’t make the favor I owed him something awful…
I nodded slowly. “If you’re serious, I accept your offer.” I held out my hand. “And I’ll owe you one.”
Abe slid his hand against mine, and my breath hitched. Even his hands were different. Aidan had long, thin fingers, smooth, almost elegant. He’d even gotten a few manicures. But Abe’s were thick, callused and dotted with small white scars. Colorful tattoos swirled over the back of his hand.
“Deal,” he said.
“Deal.”
He squeezed my hand before standing and moved toward the door. “Happy birthday, Iris.”
“Why does this feel like the plot to a bad romance novel?”
He put his hand on the doorknob. Mischief flashed in his eyes. “Am I the hero or the villain?”
“I’m not sure yet.”
He peeked out into the hallway through a tiny crack in the door. “Let me know when you figure it out.”
With one last grin over his shoulder, he slipped out.