by Piper Rayne
Clearing his throat, Scott starts to corral the kids, herding them towards the parking lot. “Let’s go and give them a moment alone,” he adds before leading the herd swiftly away.
“I, uh...guess I’ll see you Saturday, then?” he shrugs, with about as much enthusiasm as I have on the matter.
“Yeah, I guess so…”
“It’s a date!” Vera Kay’s voice rings out from somewhere in the crowd.
We say our goodbyes with Grey returning to the dugout and I towards Tink, where Halle is no doubt waiting with bated breath for the car ride home. My mind swirls with what just happened, and I can’t seem to figure out the angle.
Vera Kay never sticks her nose in my business, which leaves me to wonder: if she’s that hell-bent on fixing me up with someone, why can’t it have been the guy I actually want?
8
Nova
This week has been twenty shades of miserable. After Vera Kay’s little stunt at the ballgame last Saturday, Scott’s been a bit of a grouch, although I can’t understand why. He's a big fan according to everything he’s ever said about Grey, even identifying him as a good role model for the kids.
The kids have even been a little sulky, which has impacted my mood. The only one who flits around here like it’s an ordinary day is Vera Kay, who seems to be extra pleased with herself since her little stunt at the ballgame.
What in the world was she thinking? As nice a guy as Grey is, he’s not my type.
But your type wasn’t the one who asked you out. Remember?
Technically, neither did Grey, but let’s not split hairs. Especially the white, curly ones that got you in this mess in the first place. Speaking of the once-beloved traitor…
“All set to go for tonight?” Her hands wring together, a huge smile plastered on her innocent-looking face.
You don’t fool me anymore, old woman. “I guess…” I mumble, hoping the world might implode and save me and Grey both from what promises to be a disaster.
The clock strikes seven, signaling it’s time for this dreaded evening to proceed. As if on a timer itself, a big pickup truck pulls in front of Baked and Brewed, sealing my fate. “Cheer up, honey. Grey’s a good guy. He’ll be a perfect gentleman.” She leans in to whisper, yet doesn’t drop the volume of her voice. “Unless you suggest otherwise.”
Scott’s head, previously buried down past the counter for some odd reason, pops up, his cheeks flushed, and his newly adopted grouch mode on full-tilt. “Griffin, Clay. Let’s go gather the trash.”
The boys look at each other, obviously wondering why one of the last chores of the evening needed to be done two hours before quit time. Clay motions to the clock above. “Dad, it’s only—”
“I know what time it is,” Scott grouses, not sparing any of us a glance as he heads to the kitchen. “Just come and help me.”
The boys shrug and go after their dad. Harper sits quietly, pretending to sketch, but the pencil hasn’t touched the pad in over twenty minutes. Halle tries to peak over Millie’s shoulder while she’s writing, obviously looking for new words to learn. The rest of the kids are preoccupied, except Henry, who stares at his reflection in the window, lightly touching the noticeable scar above his lip as he does. Poor little guy.
“That dress looks great on you, honey,” she compliments as I turn my gaze to it, the dress in question being the one she picked out of my closet and brought with her. I had planned to wear my work clothes on this “non-date,” which wouldn’t do according to the world of Vera Kay and meddling great aunts everywhere.
Speaking of non-dates…
The door chime rings and a pair of clean boots walk through the door, carrying with it the next two or three hours of my life. Clad in a casual light blue button-down shirt and dark jeans, Grey, with his slicked-back hair, makes being handsome look nearly effortless.
“Hey, Baker bunch!” his jovial tone rings out in the shop.
As they walk back into the room, Griffin raises his hand to wave at his coach, earning him an elbow in the ribs from Clay. An angry exchange occurs between them without the first word being uttered, and Griffin lowers his hand. The look he gives Clay doesn’t bode well for later, though.
Everyone sits silently, except for Vera Kay, who takes to fussing over Grey, and Scott, who just returned from the kitchen area.
Peering up from his warm embrace with Vera Kay, Grey greets the man who’s had a bure in his saddle all week. “Scott! How’s it going, man?”
“Kasen.” His curt retort, entirely out of character as I’ve come to know him, disappoints me.
Grey’s eyebrows shoot up like he’s never heard Scott use his last name before. He clears his throat with one look around at the stony faces and icy atmosphere, which have absolutely nothing to do with the room temperature. “Uh, ready to go, Nova?”
Catching Harper’s eye, I subtly motion for her to meet me in the back. I offer Grey a friendly smile since those seem to be lacking this evening. “Let me go grab my purse. I’ll be right out.”
“Take your time. No rush,” he responds. Before turning back towards the front door, his eyes take in my attire. “Nice dress, by the way.” The genuine compliment, lacking any innuendo or suggestion, warms my heart. By all accounts, Grey Kasen seems to be the kind of person you’d want around when you’re having a bad day or feeling less than stellar.
Giving my thanks, I head towards the back, Harper joining me along the way. As we go through the door, I hear him say his goodbyes, which are met with silence once more except from—who else—Vera Kay. What’s with everyone giving him the cold shoulder?
Once we enter the kitchen, I address the obvious elephant in the room first. “What’s going on with everyone?”
“Do you have to go out with him?” Harper’s face takes on an indecipherable expression. “Can’t you just stay here with us?”
“We’re just hanging out tonight. There’s no date.” And I absolutely, unequivocally mean that. “I’ll swing back by once we finish up.”
Satisfaction takes hold after she mulls it over for a moment, leaving us to the task at hand. “Then, why did you want to see me?”
I give her a sly smirk. “Think you can help me sabotage this non-date and get me back here faster?”
She’s shocked at first but recovers with a perceptive grin. “I’d be more than happy to. What’d you have in mind?”
Quickly devising a plan we both agree upon, I snatch my purse from the coat rack on the way out. As I meander back through the shop and head towards the door, I wave goodnight, at least for now, to everyone—even the grumpy owner whose penetrating stare can’t be missed through the large shop window.
Grey opens the truck door for me, helping me inside like a consummate gentleman. As I get settled in, I notice a few specks of multiple colors clinging to his quasi-dry hair. “Grey?”
He gives me a quizzical look, holding the door open.
“Is that paint”—I stroke a few strands on top, ignoring the audience we have in the window—“in your hair?”
He scratches the back of his neck, a slight blush taking over his face. “Yeah, I had to help a friend...paint a wall today.” Before I could say anything else, he shuts the door quickly and walks around to the driver’s side. I have a sneaking suspicion that wasn't the full story. However, considering this is a non-date that will hopefully end in less than two hours, I let it go.
As Grey puts the vehicle in drive, I take a quick look at the shop through the tinted windows. Harper now stands where Scott once was, holding her thumb up, signaling it will be fine.
“Do you like country music?” Grey’s voice steals my attention away from the window as he quickly flips through the stations with multiple turns of the dial.
“Depends,” I tell him. “Know any stations that have some Patsy in the rotation?”
He chuckles, flipping it forward several times before settling on one where Johnny Cash sings about the burn of love. “My kind of girl.”
W
e ease on down Main Street Silverton, with Grey singing off-key with Johnny and me laughing at his goofy impression of the man in black. He may not be the type of guy I’m attracted to, but he sure does rank high on the list of people I’d love to befriend in Silverton.
As we stop at the edge of town where the unofficial tour begins, I sneak a peek at my watch, realizing that while this non-date may be short-lived, maybe we can get to know each other a little better.
Besides, how bad could a non-date with this guy be?
9
Nova
Well, this is a disaster.
The pungent smell of aged grapes permeates the air around me. Cold burgundy liquid seeps into my green dress unapologetically.
Grey sits there with his mouth open, eyes guilt-riddled. “Nova, I’m so sorry.” The waiter who just turned over a full glass of wine on me emerges with a stack of towels and our desserts.
“Accidents happen. Don’t worry about it,” I trail off. Tell that to your green dress.
“About that,” Grey starts, cut off by what I’m sure is searing pain. “Holy f—dude, what the hell?”
“I was trying to make it right,” the waiter hisses at him.
“By scalding me!?” Grey cries out, standing by the seat he just vacated. “My God, I don’t know where the frozen skin ends or the burnt skin begins.” He attempts to brush away the steaming blackberry cobbler and cold vanilla ice cream the waiter just knocked into his lap, leaving behind a mangled purple-and-ivory mess.
“I’m still keeping the money,” the waiter grumbles as he storms away to get more napkins. At least, I hope so.
I’m still keeping the money. I ponder his words as my non-date continues to make an even bigger mess on his clothes. “Grey?”
He looks at me, catching the suspicion in my eyes, which causes his own to lower.
Bingo. “Did you pay that waiter to spill my wine on me?”
“I did no such thing.” His denial is stern, but two years in a classroom can teach you a lot about extracting the truth. I school my expression and smooth it into the lie-detector one. He notices—and cracks like an egg. “I paid him to spill your wine on me.”
What the hell? “Why would you do that?” He opens his mouth, but I stop him with a raised hand. “And be honest.”
Drinking in the sight of the dessert stains he now dons and the wine I’m wearing, he falls into the seat and blows a raspberry in frustration. His forearms find purchase on the table’s edge as he gathers his thoughts, bringing his fingertips together. “I just wanted the night to end a little sooner.”
Alrighty, then.
“It’s not that you’re bad company or I haven’t enjoyed hanging out with you, but…”
My lips press together in understanding, causing the corners of my mouth to tilt up. “There’s somewhere else you want to be?”
His blond head shakes back and forth. “Don’t get me wrong, Nova. You’re great.” His grayish-green eyes now carry a burden deep within them. “There’s someone else, though. Maybe. I think...”
“That’s a lot of uncertainty,” I muse.
His mouth purses as an exasperated breath leaves it. “It’s complicated,” he tacks on, his laugh sounding empty. “So damn complicated.”
“I know what you mean,” I nod in commiseration. “And it’s okay. Other than a ruined dress, it’s been great getting to know you better.”
He glances down at his crotch and the mess covering it, a sigh of consignment leaving him. “Likewise.”
Several memories of crazy hijinks and Lincoln’s accident-prone incidents at Baked & Brewed flash before me. Thinking about what I know is waiting on me and what I hope is waiting for him, I offer a solution to end this disaster of epic non-dating proportions. “How about you drop me off by Baked & Brewed on your way?”
His brow quirks. “On my way where?”
“To wherever she is.”
Pearly whites shine in the dim light of the restaurant. “You’re not mad?”
“Nah. I had a fallback plan too.”
“That so?” Mischief drips from his question.
“Yelp. Now Harper doesn’t have to pretend that there’s a burnt biscotti travesty.”
His loud, amused chuckle wraps around us both. “Why would that be such a big deal?”
“Let’s chat as you drive,” I say, grabbing my bag as he tosses several bills on the table. We climb into the truck and get settled, careful not to add insult to injury—or stickiness to seatbelts. Clicking them in place, he starts up the engine. When he pulls into traffic, he motions as if to give me the floor. “So, Grey… How would Kasen Construction like some prime advertising space in a soon-to-be packed hub of community Christmas spirit?”
After chitchatting about the Soiree and what it would mean to Baked & Brewed to have Kasen Construction’s partnership, we fill the rest of the time talking about the kids, Silverton, and several other random topics. Grey even divulges a little bit about the special woman who has him by the heartstrings. Hearing him gush about her the way he does, I sure hope she can see what a wonderful man he is and appreciate him the way he deserves.
Parking a few spots away from the coffeehouse, I invite Grey in to pack him down with two helpings of our daily coffee and biscotti combo—to go, of course. The shop's door is propped open as this beautiful autumn weather has recently given us a chance to let fresh air in during the evening hours. The only people who should be in the shop now is Vera Kay and the family, so when I hear raised voices filtering through the doorway, I give Grey a look before sprinting towards the door.
“You ruined it, Henry!” Clay yells as Henry cowers behind Hadley.
“He didn’t mean to, you jerk,” she bites back, poking him in the chest. “He only dropped it because he was trying to protect it from you two idiots!”
“Well, Griffin started it,” he counters, casting a glare at his big brother.
A big brother who isn’t having any of it. “That was payback for elbowing me in the ribcage earlier, butt lick.”
Clay’s face grows red. “Don’t call me a butt lick, butt munch! I only did it because you waved at him.”
“Boys, you need to calm down right now,” Vera Kay scolds, motioning for Harper to go get their dad, who probably just took the real trash out.
“I like Coach Kasen,” Griffin fusses around the others who stand in between him and Clay. “You’re only mad because you think he’s gonna steal away Nova.”
I share a look with Grey, whose face turns pale.
“I don’t care,” Clay counters. “She’s ours! He can’t have her.”
“Well, she’s out with him, not Dad.” Ouch. “We’ve already had two moms. You wanna lose her too?” The hurt in Griffin’s cryptic words makes my heart ache for him.
Clay, however, doesn’t seem to share my sentiments. “Shut up, you stupid—”
Scott bursts through the door with Harper hot on his heels, immediately placing himself between the two. “Boys, that’s enough!” his voice booms, ushering in a thick blanket of quiet. Time stands still for a moment as we all stare at Scott and the two boys. He puts his hands around their biceps and drags them to a row of tables. Placing one at one end of the section and one at the other, he dares them to say another word or move from their spot, anger rolling off him in waves. “You know better than to carry on like this.” Their shoulders slump slightly, the effects of their dad’s words weighing heavily on them. “And you absolutely will not act like this when Nova and Coach Kasen get back. Am I clear?”
Clay lifts his face first to answer Scott, only to catch a glimpse of us in his peripheral vision. As he whips his head our way, the color drains from his cheeks. Scott notices his reaction and turns around to discover Grey and me standing at the door, catching flies with our open mouths.
Wiping a hand down his face, Scott turns and goes into the men’s restroom, the door slamming shut behind him.
Turning to Grey, I pat him on the arm. “Let me walk you out
.”
We’re both quiet as we walk to his truck, a million thoughts without a doubt swirling in both our minds. He steps off the curb to walk around to the driver’s side, but stops and pivots before he goes any further. “I know it may not seem like it, but I’ve known the family for a long time, Nova…” He weighs his words carefully. “And you’re exactly what they need right now.”
“Are you sure about that?” I quip with a half-hearted laugh, motioning to the scene we just left.
He nods solemnly. “Scott’s a good man, but he was with Emma for a long time. Let him know you’re interested. I don’t think he’s not gonna dick around this time after that display.” His chuckle breaks some of the tension having over us. With a tilt of his head, he gives me a smirk. “He and the kids are lucky to have you, and I think he realizes now how much you mean to everyone.”
“I feel like the lucky one.” Thinking back to the conversation we had in the truck, I add, “And don’t give up on her, Grey. She’s probably just overthinking things. Let her know you’re in it for the long haul.”
He takes in my words and nods. “You know, you’re super, Nova.” Grey’s easy smile settles into place, but the twinkle in his eyes says far more.
“What?” I ask, curious to know, as he stands there looking like those wheels are turning overtime in his mind.
“Nothing. Just—” He weighs his options silently. “Never mind. I’ll catch you later, Nova. If not, you might want to ask Clay where he hid the body.” His deep chuckle fills the air as we exchange a friendly hug before he hops in the truck. “I’ll text you about the items we discussed, pal.”
“Thanks for dinner and dessert, buddy,” I return with a wink.
After he pulls away, I make my way into the shop again, mixed emotions boiling beneath the surface. Eleven pairs of peepers land on me—some tear-filled, some squinted in anguish, but most opened as wide as a church door. The only set I don’t see belongs to the man I need to have a chat with right now.