Without You: A Friends-to-Lovers Small Town Romance

by Jennifer Van Wyk

  My eyes eat up every gorgeous bit of him in a matter of only a few seconds but when they travel back up to meet his, I don’t see anything other than exactly what I know my eyes are showing, too.

  Heat.

  Want.

  Desire.

  “You didn’t have to do that,” I say quietly, remembering my manners when it comes to him buying me a coffee and breakfast pastry. “But, thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  We wait patiently for our drinks as we’re handed our plastic-wrapped scones.

  “These scones are amazing. Have you had them before?” I ask, feeling a little awkward because I don’t know what to say to him.

  “I haven’t.”

  “But you ordered one?”

  He shrugs one of his strong shoulders. “I trust you.”

  Those three words. They do something to me.

  “Hopefully you aren’t disappointed,” I tell him, ducking my head.

  When our coffees are handed to us, we both add a splash of half and half and put the lid on.

  “You staying here or heading out?”

  I was going to leave but if he’s staying, there’s no way I’m going to admit that.

  “I think I’ll take it to that back table.”

  “Want company?”

  Absolutely.

  “Sure,” I say, shrugging like it’s not a big deal.

  Though, it is. A huge deal. Because girl code tells me I shouldn’t even want him, much less sit and have coffee with the guy who my friend used to date and who almost ruined her wedding reception. But, Hannah never was that good of a friend to me. In fact, when she asked me to be a bridesmaid, I was, and still am, ninety-five percent sure it was only because she wanted a certain number of bridesmaids standing up with her.

  His answering chuckle tells me that he knows I’m not feeling nearly as nonchalant about us sharing a coffee as I’m trying to appear.

  We settle at a table and I take the lid off my coffee, blowing lightly at the hot liquid before taking a large sip. It’s deliciously bitter and comforting and hot. When I was growing up, I thought that liking coffee meant I was an adult. I’d watch my parents drink coffee together in the morning to help them wake up. In the warmer months, they’d sit out on the deck and my sister and I would sit in the living room and watch cartoons through sleepy eyes and hair wild from sleep. In the colder months, they’d sit around the wood burning stove together that heated our home from the fire. They’d let us watch TV as long as we kept it quiet while they had their coffee. They never watched the morning news aside from a quick check for the weather, saying it put a damper on their day. Wouldn’t read the paper, either. I used to think that meant they were out of touch, but as I got older, I started to realize they were right. There’s rarely positive news being shared.

  It was always Mama and Daddy’s time together, they called it, and my sister Erica and I would always say that when we found the guy to share coffee and breakfast with in the morning, we’d never let him go.

  My sister found her forever guy a few years ago and I stood beside her as they pledged their lives to one another for life. She’s happy, and he’s perfect for her. And yes, they kept the tradition of morning coffee time together.

  “What are you thinking about over there?” Brody’s deep voice interrupts my thoughts and I startle to realize that I have been staring at my coffee for who knows how long.

  “Sorry,” I say, sheepishly.

  “It’s okay. So… what’s going through that pretty head of yours?”

  He called me pretty. Or my head pretty, anyway. That tiny compliment makes me blush. To cover it, I bite my bottom lip and shake my head, letting my blonde hair whoosh around my shoulders. “You’ll think it’s weird.”

  His eyes twinkle when he says, “Try me.” He takes a big and loud purposeful slurp of his coffee, grinning at his own obnoxiousness.

  “You’re so mature.”

  He waggles his eyebrows and bites into his scone with his white teeth. Clearly, I’ve lost my mind if I’m focusing on the man’s teeth. But they’re attractive. Not perfectly straight like he went through years of wearing braces, and for whatever reason, that makes them even more attractive to me.

  “I know. Anyway, tell me what you were so distracted by.”

  “Nothing. Just… memories, I guess.”

  “Good memories?” he asks and takes another bite.

  I bite into my own scone and almost close my eyes at the tender, soft texture of the pastry. They’re so delicious and I know I could make my own but I’m positive they wouldn’t taste even half as good. After I swallow my bite, I drink some coffee to wash it down and reply, “Of my parents.”

  “Oh, yeah? How are Gina and Frank doing?”

  The fact that he remembers my parents’ names kind of messes with my insides. Man, at one time I had it bad for Brody and apparently five minutes in his presence has brought all those feelings back to life. “They’re good. Great, actually. Frank is hoping to retire at the end of the year and Gina’s up to her usual antics.”

  “Usual antics being looking at women’s you know whats all day long?”

  “You know it.”

  My mama is a labor and delivery nurse and loves working in the obstetrics department, being there when mothers bring babies into the world.

  He grins that boyish grin that I love and shakes his head. “She’s crazy.”

  “Nah. I mean, she is, but not because of that.”

  He laughs loudly, throwing his head back. “Oh, come on. Mama Gina isn’t crazy. Not like my mom.”

  “Well, no. No one’s quite that crazy,” I tease.

  “Fuck, right? She’s not gotten any better with age, either.”

  “Yet, you love her.”

  “I do. Though, did you know that Dad’s officially done? He asked for a divorce a few years ago.”

  I reach across the table on instinct and grab his hand in mine. He immediately turns it over so our palms are touching. “I didn’t hear that. I’m sorry.”

  He shrugs a shoulder but doesn’t release my hand. “It was a long time coming. I mean, she wasn’t willing to change so he didn’t have a choice. He tried to love her through it but I guess it was just a deal breaker in the end. He thought that maybe if he threatened the divorce she’d stop, apparently not.”

  “Is she still, you know…”

  “Stealing? Oh, yeah,” he says, leaning back and releasing my hand to rub it across his jaw. “Little shit here and there, I’m sure. She wouldn’t stop when it came to losing her family so I doubt if now that she’s lost us she’s gone all noble and stopped. Dad hated it. It’s an addiction, you know. But Mama wouldn’t even try to stop. Dad begged her over and over again, but she said it made her happy. She’s lost all her friends.”

  I flip my hand around and am embarrassed when a giggle slips out. “Well, yeah, I’m sure none of them really want her to come over for wine if they’re afraid she’s going to get sticky fingers in their house. I mean, if it were me, I wouldn’t want to even go shopping with her in case she took something and then I ended up being an accessory to her criminal ways.”

  The corner of his mouth ticks up in amusement. “Criminal ways, huh?”

  I wince because I realize that probably came out rudely but he didn’t seem bothered so I try to brush it off and hope he wasn’t offended.

  “Sorry, that was rude of me.”

  “No, it wasn’t. It’s the truth. She tried therapy, and after she’d gotten caught that one time and ended up in her little stint in county jail for thirty days, we really thought she’d stop.”

  “But she’s still like the Beagle Boys from Duck Tales, huh? Does she wear one of those little black masks over her eyes so people don’t know it’s her?”

  “You know, I kind of missed your way of telling it like it is.”

  I wince. Again. Because I really do need to find a filter at some point in my life.

  Rather than talk again, I s
hove a giant bite of scone in my mouth. So big that my cheeks puff out and I know I look ridiculous but ehh, it’s better than continually talking and saying whatever’s on my mind.

  This time it’s Brody who reaches over the table for my hand. “Hey. Quit.”

  “Quit what?” I mumble around scone crumbs, a few flying out of my mouth.

  I’m such a delight.

  “I meant it. I missed your brand of honesty. No, she’s not nearly as crafty as Ma Beagle was when she’d wear her black eye mask. She just takes shit, which is why she was in jail. I like that you can joke with me about it and not try to pretend that it didn’t happen. My mom’s a klepto, I know it. All her ex-friends know it. My dad knows it. Hell, I’m pretty sure even Pastor Warren knows it. I can accept it now because I realized that I’m not the one responsible for her actions and it doesn’t have anything to do with me.”

  I look down at our joined hands and back up to his eyes. He squeezes me once then slides his hand away again.

  “How’s your sister?”

  “Married. Happy. Trying to get pregnant.”

  “Bet that makes Frank and Gina happy.”

  “They’re ready to be grandparents for sure. They complain all the time that their friends get to have grandbabies but we don’t even give them grand-pets. Apparently my fish doesn’t count,” I grumble like it really bothers me. It doesn’t. Obviously I know a goldfish isn’t grand-pet worthy, but I love giving my parents grief about it.

  “And what about you? What are you doing back here? Just visiting your parents after the wedding?”

  I shake my head. “Nope. I’m here again. Moved home right before the wedding.”

  His jaw drops down just slightly and if I wasn’t watching him so closely, I might not have noticed. But, I’m addicted to his face so I did notice.

  “You live here again?”

  Nodding, I confirm, “Yeah.”

  “Are you working anywhere?”

  “For my dad, which is a little humbling and makes me feel like I can’t adult properly and have to run to my parents for not only a job but a place to live. But, it’s only temporary. I lost my job from layoffs and I didn’t really have another choice but to move home. I didn’t have enough saved up to live for months and my severance was a joke because they technically gave us enough notice. Daddy needed my help around the office so I’m doing that until I find something more permanent.”

  “Want to sling tires? Actually, fuck that. You’d be a giant distraction for my guys.”

  I want to ask why only his guys but I’m not nearly that brave. Instead, I flex my arms, which aren’t that muscular but I can fake it with the best of them, and say, “What? You don’t think I’d be able to handle the work?”

  He rolls his eyes and tosses the balled up cellophane that was around his scone at me, which I deflect easily. “Shut up. You know that’s not what I meant.”

  I wink at him this time and his eyes flare.

  “So what are you doing for Frank?”

  “Not enough to keep me busy, that’s for sure. Filing paperwork, helping him get everything into a more automated system so he can retire. But it’s boring,” I grouch. “But I’m grateful for the work anyway.”

  “Well, that goes without saying,” he teases, tipping his almost empty coffee cup in my direction.

  I roll my eyes.

  “What is it you did, again? I mean your work? I feel like there’s a lot I never learned about you.”

  “Besides my mama staring at vaginas for a living, of course.”

  “Of course.”

  I smile and hate that I can feel how shy it is.

  “So…”

  “So?”

  “Tell me about you. How do you spend your days? Or, how did you, before you moved back to Benton?”

  “I worked at a large architectural firm. I helped with the day-to-day operations, otherwise known as an assistant,” I say, wrinkling my nose. “It wasn’t my life’s dream, but I actually loved it. Everyone who worked there was very nice and it was a relaxed atmosphere. But the firm was having a lot of financial problems and had to shut down. The owner had a hard time not spending more than what we were taking in, wanting a fancier office than we needed and paid for expensive retreats. It was nice of him to want to do that, it was just premature. He needed to build up his business first before all that. Hence, the reason he had to shut down.”

  “Bummer.”

  “Yup. It was. But it wasn’t exactly unexpected, either, because we all saw the writing on the wall. So, anyway, here I am.”

  “Hate that you lost your job, but glad to have you here.”

  I’m a little ashamed to admit how much more I want there to be to his statement.

  “I’m glad to be back home, too. Feels a little weird, but it’s good. Plus, I just started taking classes to become a massage therapist. I have about five weeks left before I’m done.”

  He looks surprised by my announcement. “Massage therapy? Is that what you’ve always wanted to do?”

  “No. It was never in my plan. But when I found out I was going to be losing my job working for the firm, I decided a fresh start was what I needed. I was driving along one day and, it might sound crazy, but I started going through the alphabet and would think of a career with each letter. When I got to M, I said massage therapy out loud and it just kind of stuck. I didn’t go any farther in the alphabet, just stopped right there.”

  “That’s a kick ass way to come up with what to do with your life.” I wrinkle my nose thinking he’s teasing me but he corrects himself, “I mean it! Promise. You actually considered your options and then you found something that you knew you could be passionate about and went for it. It’s cool.”

  “Thanks, Brody. That means a lot.”

  “Welcome. So… everything happens for a reason, right?” The way his eyes travel over my face gives me a little flutter in my stomach.

  “Right. So tell me about you? What’s this about your new contract?”

  He grins and looks away. “Now that, was definitely unexpected. I was just doing my thing, you know? Turns out I did my thing for the right person and he told absolutely the right person who told a few more right people and here I am, suddenly doing custom work for trucks that will be in country music videos.”

  “Wow. That’s crazy.”

  “It is.”

  “You ready for it? Like, is it a happy unexpected thing for you or is it something that you’re like dang, how do I get out of it?”

  “Ha! Definitely a happy thing. I mean, it’s a little overwhelming and intimidating and I’m positive the first time I meet an artist I’ll probably want to throw up but I’m excited, too.”

  “I’m so happy for you. I remember way back in the day your truck always looked pretty amazing.”

  He blushes. Blushes! And there’s no way I can ignore it so I nudge his foot with mine and tease him, “Aww, is the big, bad Brody Redding embarrassed to accept a compliment?”

  “Shut up,” he murmurs.

  I giggle and he looks up at me, his chin still tucked so his face is angled down.

  “So, I was a little surprised to see you at Hannah’s reception,” he says, leaning back in his chair.

  “She just needed bodies,” I explain with a flick of my wrist.

  He nods like he actually agrees, or at least understands what I’m getting at.

  “Yeah, that doesn’t surprise me. Everything is such a presentation, right? Make sure it looks good on the outside.”

  “Yeah,” I sigh. “I don’t mean to talk bad. That’s not who I am,” I sigh again.

  “No. It isn’t. But you weren’t lying,” he says with a shrug. “I might have been surprised, but it was definitely a good surprise. You looked, still look, beautiful.”

  I press my lips together and whisper a quiet, “Thank you.”

  “Welcome.”

  His phone rings loudly, a shrill sound that has me jumping in my seat, my hand flying to my chest on insti
nct.

  He grabs his phone and must hit ignore because it silences immediately. “Sorry, I keep it turned up because it’s hard to hear in the shop.”

  “You don’t say?” I say sarcastically. “Goodness, that terrified me.”

  “Yeah, I’m used to it now, but it scared the shit out of me for a week straight.”

  It rings again and I, of course, almost jump out of my seat. He chuckles at my expense. “Sorry. Apparently the shop is wondering where I am.”

  “Oh. Were they expecting you?” Of course they were, dumbass. They probably were because it’s seven-thirty in the morning and we’ve been here for thirty minutes already. He’s probably usually been at his shop for an hour by now.

  He looks at me for a moment then says, “Yeah. But they’ll get over it.” He smiles and gives me another wink. “I had something better to do.”

  Well, now my stomach is really fluttering.

  His phone starts ringing again, and I jump in my seat, again.

  “Someone really needs to talk to you.”

  He looks down at his phone. “Yeah. You mind?”

  “Not at all. Go ahead.”

  He slides his thumb across the screen and answers, “Yeah?” He listens quietly for a few seconds then says, “Got it. Be there in ten. Hang tight.”

  Brody shoves his phone back in his pocket.

  “Gotta go?”

  “Yup. Sorry.”

  “Don’t apologize. You’re a big deal now, right?”

  “Nah. Never that. But, I’d really like to have coffee, or something, again.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Of course. We barely had time to scratch the surface,” he says, standing up.

  I stand up also and we grab our trash, bringing it to the trash can by the door of the coffee shop. He holds the door open for me and I brush past him, discreetly inhaling. He smells of soap and spice and oh my gosh, it’s not even that strong or anything overly sexy but it is delicious.