I set another finished cupcake on the tray and looked up at her. "I promise, if one single customer comes in and says he shouldn't be there, I'll have Levi come pick him up and take him home."
Her eyes lit up. "Really?"
"Yeah," I answered.
"And he'd just do that for you?"
"Levi?"
She nodded vigorously.
"You know him? I mean, beyond seeing him pick me up the other day."
Joy gave me a look like I was crazy. "I was a freshman when he was a senior. He's … we all know the Buchanans. Of course, I know him."
"Ahh." Right. One of those moments when my 'sore thumb' status in Green Valley was ever so apparent.
"He's so handsome," she told me as if I didn't look at that face every single damn day.
I shrugged. "He's all right."
Joy's offended gasp made me burst out laughing. Her face looked like I'd just told her that her cupcakes tasted like dirt.
"Jocelyn?" Mikey asked, head poking around the corner into the kitchen. "Can you come out here?"
Joy was muttering about Levi when I wheeled past her. "Just all right," I heard her say under her breath.
I was still grinning when I made my way behind the counter. Mikey was talking to a woman who was ninety, if she was a day, and holding the sides of a walker like it was the only thing keeping her standing.
Swallowing roughly, I tried to imagine being out in public in my walker. My chair kept me moving smoothly and quickly, I could pivot and spin, hop a curb with relative ease, and pop a wheelie if I felt so moved.
Oh, but pride was a bitter pill to swallow, wasn't it?
The fifteen-year-old me trying to get used to my chair never would've imagined that I'd use it as a safety net.
"What's up, Mikey?"
He nodded at the customer who peered over her thick-lensed glasses at me. For a few seconds, she stared at the wheels on my chair, then back up to my face.
"She had a question."
I blinked in confusion. "Okay." Giving her a polite smile, I turned my chair a bit so I was facing her more fully. "How can I help you, ma'am?"
"There's a wild dog sitting outside." Her voice was shaky, but her eyes were unflinching. The skin around them was wrinkled and translucent, spotted with age.
"Oh, that's my dog. He just … likes to stay with me as much as possible, but it's a health code violation to have him inside the bakery."
From the back of her throat, she made a small harrumph sound. "He looks scary."
I smiled at her. "He's very sweet, I promise."
"What's his name?"
"Nero," I answered.
She glanced over her glasses at me. "After the Roman emperor who burned people alive?"
Mikey cleared his throat to cover a laugh.
"Yes?"
"Don't you know your own dog's name?" she asked.
"Yes," I repeated. "I just liked the sound of it. It sounded … tough."
"Huh." She looked at my chair again. "You need him for help getting around?"
Like he knew we were talking about him, Nero stood and stretched his back legs, then plopped down in a sitting position and stared over his shoulder at me.
"Not technically, but sometimes I hook up his leash and harness to my chair, and he pulls me up some of the foothills when I take him out for exercise."
Her eyes narrowed. "Fine. I'll take a banana cake."
At her strange non sequitur, I blinked. "Umm. Okay."
"I'll go box one up," Mikey said.
"Make sure it was made today," she called after him. "I don't want one that's been sitting around for a couple of days."
I bit down on my smile as I told her the total. Very carefully, she counted out exact change from her metallic purple coin purse. It matched the chain on her glasses.
"I had a dog," she said as I was putting her money in the drawer.
"What was his name?"
"Her name was Daffodil." She tucked her coin purse back into an embroidered pocket hooked around the side of her walker. "She was a Shih Tzu."
"Those are very cute dogs," I told her.
Her iron eyes looked over the rim of her glasses again. "Meanest bitch of a dog I've ever met in my life. She bit everyone who tried to pet her."
"Oh," I said dumbly. "I'm sorry?"
"She's dead now, so it's fine."
Where was Mikey with that damn cake? I cleared my throat. If anyone wondered why I hated small talk, it was moments exactly like this one. She was staring straight at my chair.
"You're Ruby's granddaughter, aren't you?"
"I am." I eyed her curiously. "You knew her?"
If someone could roll their eyes without moving a single muscle, she just managed it. I felt her eye roll like she'd shoved it down my throat. "I'm old, aren't I? All us old people know each other here."
I swear, if Mikey didn't show up soon, I'd walk back and get the banana cake myself if it would make this go faster.
"I've heard she wore a purple hat to church," I said lamely.
She puckered her lips like someone shoved a lemon in her mouth. "Shame that she and your momma never spoke much. A woman shouldn't have lost out on a relationship with her only grandchild."
Right. There was no way I was touching that statement.
"You been in that thing long?" she asked, lifting her chin at my chair.
"Uhh, about seven years."
"Hmm. How come?"
I kept my face as straight as possible. "It's a really comfortable seat."
She narrowed her eyes, but then a tiny smile curled her thin, pale lips.
Mikey appeared with the box, and she beckoned him to come around the corner with a curl of one bony hand. With wide eyes, he walked it around to her so he could set it on the seat of her walker.
"You're funny, young lady," she told me.
"Oh, don't tell her that," a voice said from behind her.
I hadn't even noticed Levi walk in, and he was standing to the side, holding a flat box in his hands. He was grinning at me, tawny hair in desperate need of a haircut and a deep dimple carved into his cheek.
"Why not?" she snapped.
"It'll go straight to her head, and then she'll never answer people nicely when they ask her things."
"What's your name, boy?" she asked. "I recognize your face. You look like your daddy."
"Levi Buchanan, ma'am." He held out his hand, and she took it. "It's a pleasure to meet you."
"You're too charming for your own good, Levi Buchanan."
He nodded seriously. "Just charming enough to keep me out of trouble."
She barked out a laugh. All I could do was roll my eyes. He winked at me.
"Now," Levi drawled, "you haven't told me who I have the pleasure of speaking with. That's not very Southern of you."
"Only my gentleman callers get to use my first name," she said. Levi's mouth fell open, and I slapped a hand over my lips to keep the laugh in. "You can call me Miss Barton."
He snapped his mouth shut. "Well, Miss Barton, I hope to see you around."
She looked over her shoulder at me. "This your man? He's cheeky."
Before I could answer, Levi inclined his head toward the door. "Oh, I come in a close second to the dog out there. But I'm okay with that."
All I could do was shake my head. Something on his face today, a glint in his eye made me smile.
"Enjoy the banana cake, Miss Barton," I told her as she walked past Levi. When she paused to pat Nero's head just outside the door, I laughed. "Man, I hope I'm like that when I'm her age."
Levi nodded, his eyes still watching Miss Barton shuffle away from the entrance of the bakery. "I can picture it far too easily."
I crossed my arms over my chest, trying to catch a glimpse of what he had in the box. "I didn't know you were coming in."
"Can't I ever try to surprise you?"
Before I could answer, Joy came from the kitchen, wiping her hands on the apron covering the front of her body.
"Hey Joss, everything okay out here?" Her eyes snagged on Levi, a pretty pink blush covering her round cheeks, and she smiled widely. "Oh, how sweet! You came in to say hi."
"I sure did. You must be Joy."
If her smile got any bigger, she'd split her face wide open. "I am! Oh, I just love working with Jocelyn. She's wonderful."
I rubbed at my forehead and shot daggers at Levi with my eyes, which he ignored. "She is wonderful." He tilted his head down to the box that he held in his hands. "That's why I figured I'd bring her these."
Narrowing my eyes at him, I leaned up in my chair. "What's in there?"
He set the box down, and I noticed he was having a hard time holding eye contact. In two neat rows were small brown paper bags, the crisply folded edges of each bag held down by different colors of tape. In black marker, the bags were labeled with different names.
Almond
Wheat
Cake
00
Pastry
Spelt
Rye
Buckwheat
Barley
Rice
Oat
"Oh," Joy breathed out as I stared into the box like a giant dummy. "Flours. They're kinds of flour."
My eyes snapped up to him. "You brought me flours?"
His hazel eyes were bright, but before he could answer me, Joy sighed loudly. "That is so romantic."
I burst out laughing. "Oh my word, Levi, you didn't."
He smiled. "You told me once that buying flowers were a waste of money because all they did was suck up water and then die two days later."
"I did say that," I said around my helpless giggles. "But-but you totally ripped this off from that movie, you cheater."
His face blanched. "You've seen it?"
"What movie?" Joy asked, still staring raptly at the box of flour.
I shook my head, still grinning at Levi. "I can't even remember the name of the actor, but he's an IRS guy. She's a baker. It's good, you should watch it." Clucking my tongue, I gave Levi a mock-disappointed look. "Was this a test of my movie knowledge or something? You're the one who made me watch it a couple of years ago."
"I did?" He scratched the side of his face. "Huh."
I rolled my eyes and grabbed the box so I could set it on my lap and head back into the kitchen. "Oh, how quickly they forget. I'll be off work in an hour if you want to wait."
"I'll wait," he told me.
"Thank you for the flours," I said over my shoulder.
He answered in a weary tone. "You're welcome."
Joy was smiling at Levi like he'd dropped off a check for a million dollars. "I still think it's romantic."
"Thanks, Joy." He sighed. "Do you know how far I had to drive for the spelt flour?"
"So romantic," she repeated.
I was still laughing as I went back to my cupcakes. But every time my eyes caught on the box containing the neatly folded brown paper, I smiled.
Chapter 9
Jocelyn
The night before my next PT session, I promised myself that I'd draw the line at a quick swipe of mascara. The reflection of the girl staring back at me from the rearview mirror of my car the next morning all but called me a big fat liar.
My hair was tamed in two neat braids that met at the base of my skull. The shirt I wore was a deep bluish-purple color that made my eyes look "freaky blue," according to Levi, the one time I wore it to the gym. Freaky blue eyes or not, I liked how my arms looked underneath the cap sleeves. I stuck with my black leggings because there was no hiding how skinny my legs were, no matter what I wore.
This time when I arrived, I didn't hide behind the open car door. I stood and took a deep breath, inhaling the warm mountain air, which promised to turn into a hot June day in no time.
Five steps, and I had the back of the car open. When I sat down, I was proud of myself for not letting the butterflies overwhelm me. The other thing I promised myself last night as I laid in bed and stared at the ceiling was that I going to woman up and ask the man to Connor and Sylvia's wedding.
Not right away or anything, because the truth was that I knew very little about Andrew. It simplified things in my head to think of him by the name he went by at PT. Cupcake Guy was no longer in the building as soon as he realized I was his client.
What was it with the bakery anyway? It like, shot out some weird Jocelyn pheromones or something. First Andrew buying me the cupcake, then Levi showing up with his ridiculous box of flours. He'd waited for me the day before as promised, after taking Nero to the park and running some of his energy out. There was no more mention of the box, or the movie, and when he asked if I wanted to take Nero on a hike down one of my favorite paths, I agreed.
For some reason, once I was inside those walls, I was a different person. And I needed to figure out how to bring that person out of the Donner Bakery kitchen.
As I wheeled up to the door, I could feel someone's eyes on me, so instead of hitting the button, I yanked the door open with my left hand and pivoted my chair so that I was able to hold the door open for myself.
Andrew was behind the main desk, smiling at something in his hand.
"Good morning," he said without looking up.
"Morning."
The office was empty, which was a little unusual for the morning. His smile was friendly when he aimed it at me. "Ready to work?"
"I guess so."
He hooked a thumb over one broad shoulder, and I saw a long ramp set at an angle up against the wall. "You'll love this."
I scrunched my nose at it. "I almost don't dare ask."
Andrew laughed when he set the clipboard down and came around the corner. "We need to start building your glute and quad strength. You have more muscle atrophy than I'd like to see at this point."
My cheeks were hot when I looked back at the ramp. "Yeah, it's just … easier to use my chair."
He nodded like he expected my answer. Just as he had the last time, he snagged a stool and sat on it. Now he was eye level with me, and I couldn't tear my gaze away from the veins mapping the top of his hands and arms.
Very nice vein action.
"What'd you like to do before you got sick?" he asked.
"Walk," I said dryly, which made him laugh. Then I groaned. "You probably want a real answer, huh?"
"That's a real answer, but yes."
"I was a runner. A basketball player. Volleyball in the summers. I didn't spend much time just sitting around, that's for sure." I waved a hand over my legs. "So this was an interesting transition to get used to."
He looked pointedly at my arms. "It's obvious you still don't like to just sit around."
"No," I said feelingly. "I don't."
Andrew crossed one of his legs over the other and pinned me with a serious look. "So tell me why you're not taking care of your legs too. You clearly spend time in the gym."
Okay. These weren't date feelings. These were 'how 'bout you stop interrogating me' feelings. Suddenly, I missed Denise.
No, that was a lie.
I heard Levi's voice in my head, saying I needed someone to push me. And I thought of the times over the past few months when he'd asked if I wanted to go with him to the gym, and I'd said no.
Trying to think about how to answer him in a way that made sense, I shook my head for a moment. "I'm a bit of a perfectionist," I started. "And I'll never walk smoothly again. I will always look clumsy when I do it. A little ungainly. Everyone around me will hold their breath because they'll be afraid that one wrong foot placement will have me down on the pavement. I hate that feeling. I've gotten used to the way people look at me while I'm in this chair." I shook my head and swallowed audibly. "And that was hard enough. This feels like a much bigger mountain to climb, for some reason."
It was the most honest I'd been with anyone about this outside of Levi. Andrew leaned forward and held my eyes. "You aren't wrong about any of that, Jocelyn. They will watch you that way because they love you, not because they don't believe in your ability
to do it."
I blinked away, staring at the ramp like it had morphed into every symbolic thing I hated about this situation.
"Come on," he said, standing from the stool. "Let's go climb up that mountain. Literally."
"What do you mean?" I followed him over, locking my chair into place when he stopped at the base of the ramp.
"You're going to crawl up this ramp."
I huffed out a disbelieving laugh. "Oh goody, for a second I thought you'd really make me embarrass myself."
He smiled. "Come on. Up you go, Abernathy."
And that asshole really did make me crawl.
Underneath the patient instructions, calm encouragement, and educational pedigree that assured me he knew what he was doing, Andrew had my legs absolutely burning with the effort it took to stay balanced. I'd go up the ramp an inch at a time, my progress slow and frustrating. And that was nothing compared to when I had to go backward.
Occasionally, he'd lay a hand on my back or hip to move one of my legs with a gentle correction and suggestion of how to position my body. Every time he did it, I felt the spread of his fingers over my skin and breathed a little faster.
They weren't sexual touches. He never lingered. The touches were brief, they had a purpose, and I wanted to cry at how they made me feel.
It was embarrassing enough to have to literally crawl on my hands and knees in front of this person, but every time he touched me, I desperately wished I could transform those touches into something else. Something more.
I got to the bottom of the ramp, sweat pooling underneath my shirt and the backs of my legs quivering from the effort of what I was doing, when he asked me to lift my right arm.
"There you go, straight out from the shoulder." He set his hand over my shoulder, and I closed my eyes.
His hands felt all wrong.
This wasn't how I imagined it, and I wanted it to feel how I imagined it. I wanted strong touches, fingers brushing over my skin with a different purpose in a way that lingered and luxuriated. No one had ever luxuriated over anything of mine.
"Come on, keep your focus," he said, taking his hand off my shoulder when I wobbled.
"Easy for you to say," I mumbled. "You're not on all fours like a freaking dog."
He chuckled. "Okay, drop your hand. I'll help you over."
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