by Kit Morgan
“No breakfast sandwich?” Casey asked saucily, then caught herself. Was she flirting? She needed to keep her subconscious on a tight leash, it seemed. Granted, they’d talked every morning for over two weeks now, every time he came in the shop. But that didn’t mean things were back the way they had been. He certainly had given no indication – and she still hadn’t accepted his daily offer to take her out.
He shook his head. “They’re not agreeing with me, I’m afraid. Donuts, on the other hand, are the food of the gods.”
She laughed. It was the first time she’d done so in his company since Brooklyn. “One or two cream-filled?”
“Two, please – and some more coffee.”
She looked at his cup. He’d downed it already. “Wow, someone needs their caffeine this morning. But let me make a fresh pot – what’s left in this one isn’t hot enough. Should I make the next pot stronger and overamp the other customers?”
“No need. I just had a late night.”
“Oh?” she asked cautiously. Please don’t let it involve that yappy redhead, she thought.
“My mother and I were going over the latest business report from Dixie’s.” He held up a hand. “Don’t get me wrong. It was all good news.”
She relaxed. “I’ll go get your donuts and more coffee.” She left his table, her heart thundering in her chest. Dixie’s meant Melanie – whom she hadn’t heard from either, save one e-mail – and home. She missed Manhattan. She missed Brooklyn. She missed Georgie and Bojangles and traffic and even the ingeniously profane cab drivers. But she’d made her bed and now she’d have to lie in it. If only her bedding came from Bloomingdales.
Maybe he could tell her more. “Have you spoken with Miss Williams lately?” she asked when she returned with the donuts.
“Not since last week.”
“Has she said anything about Melanie and Georgie?”
“No, she didn’t mention anyone by name. Why?”
“I just haven’t talked to Mel in awhile.”
“How long?”
She noted the genuine look of concern on his face and felt her belly warm. “Not since I left New York – almost two months. I got a letter from her and wrote back, and I know she travels for her work, but …”
“She has a phone, doesn’t she?”
“Yes, she does. Maybe she has a photo shoot out of the country.”
They watched each other for a moment before Jake said, “My family is having a barbeque on Saturday. Would you like to come?”
Casey’s heart skipped a beat. They’d gone beyond idle chatter during their morning talks, brief though they may be. But he’d never brought up the gala, and neither had she. And with that still unresolved, she’d been afraid to accept his invitations. Still, a family get-together seemed safe, safer than a date. Perhaps it was time to take a step forward. She licked her lips. “Sure.” The effort it took to speak the simple word left her breathless.
Unfortunately, the next person that came through the door wasn’t. “Jake! Where have you been and why haven’t you called me?” The big-mouthed redhead marched across the coffee shop, straight for them. Casey hadn’t seen her since that one night – apparently she was getting her coconut chocolate freezes elsewhere. Or at least not during the day shift.
Jake groaned and looked at Casey. “Brace yourself.”
“I’ve been calling and calling and calling – you’d think you’d pick up the phone. Does your sister know how rude you are? I can’t believe you’d just blow me off like that!” The woman pulled out the chair opposite Jake’s and sat. “Well, what have you got to say for yourself?” She looked at Casey, not giving Jake a chance to answer. “Don’t just stand there – get me some coffee.”
Casey and Jake exchanged a quick glance. This harridan thought Jake was rude? Casey suppressed an eye roll and turned to get the woman a cup.
By the time she returned, Jake looked pained. The woman was prattling on about this, that and the other, seemingly forgetting her initial rage. Then she said, “So I hear there’s a big barbeque out at your place this weekend.”
Jake’s eyebrows shot up. “Who did you hear that from?”
“Mark down at the grocery store. So what time should I be there? I know just the dress to wear – I got it off of this website …”
Casey froze. She tuned out the flow of inanities and watched to see what Jake would do.
He didn’t even wait for a pause. “I’m sorry, Sammi,” he interrupted, “but I didn’t invite you.”
Sammi – that was her name! Instinctively, Casey knew she spelled it with an “i” at the end, and probably dotted the “i” with a little heart when she signed her name. She was just that type.
Sammi pushed her chair back from the table with the most affronted look she could muster. “What? Are you kidding me? How can –”
“No,” he stated flatly. “I’m not kidding.”
Sammi quickly collected herself. “But I heard it was your birthday party.”
“So it is.”
Jake was still calm, but Casey could tell he had to work at it. Wait a minute … “It’s your birthday?” she asked before Sammi could reload.
“Next Monday is, actually, but we’re celebrating it Saturday.” He looked at her. “You don’t have to bring a gift.”
“What a minute – she’s going?” Sammi screeched as she stood, offended all over again. “You invited a barista and not me?!” She even pointed at Casey, as if inviting her to his birthday barbeque was the most ridiculous thing he could do.
Jake took a calming breath. “Yes,” he replied, seeming to add an unspoken and what of it?
Casey blinked. Wait … was what she thought was happening happening?
Sammi was still for a moment, then snickered evilly. “Really, Jake.” She looked Casey up and down contemptuously. “That’s the best you can do?”
Casey carefully set the coffee pot down with an effort – it was far too tempting to douse Sammi Sweetheart with it.
But Jake didn’t turn a hair as she stood. “Yes. Definitely better than I did before.” And he looked Sammi right in the eyes as he said it.
Casey thought Sammi might spontaneously combust. Instead she roared in fury, spun and headed for the door, turning back when she reached it. “And for your information, your sister invited me!”
“Then expect to be disinvited as soon as I get home and tell her how you acted today,” Jake replied, not even raising his voice. “If she actually did invite you.”
Shaking and sputtering uncontrollably, Sammi threw open the door, stomped out and tried to slam it behind her, but it was the kind with the piston that prevented it. She roared again in frustration and marched away. A few patrons laughed, then went back to their own table talk.
Jake and Casey exhaled at the same time, then chuckled at it. “I’m glad you didn’t dump the coffee on her,” Jake said. “Sammi’s the type to call a lawyer.”
Casey nodded understandingly. “Well, you have to live with her,” she said with a shrug.
“What? I’d sooner live with a grizzly than her. She’s just a blind date my sister Jenny set me up with. Worst night of my life … or at least it was until Jenny suggested we get coffee. And then Sammi insisted on getting a chocolate cocoa whatever-it-is …”
“Coconut chocolate freeze.”
“… and if she hadn’t, I never would have walked through that door.”
She swallowed hard. “I guess not. Well, unless you’d come in some other time.”
“To be honest, this is pretty out of my way. It’s easier to just drive over to Sisters.”
Casey’s heart stopped. “Really?”
He leaned against the table and smiled, slowly and enticingly. “Really.”
She swallowed again, and decided to go for broke. “Jake? Maybe I shouldn’t ask, but … were you just now … um … were you using me to get at her?”
Jake looked shocked. “I assure you, I didn’t even know she was coming here.” He stopped
a moment in thought, then added with a gentle smile, “but while it wasn’t my intention. I will grant that it was a nice side benefit.”
Well played, Casey thought – the exact same words she’d used at the gala. “Jake,” she whispered, “can you ever forgive me?”
His eyes raked over her face and settled on her lips. “Aw, princess … of course I can forgive you. It hurt, sure, but I know you didn’t mean me any harm.”
“I promise, I would never try to hurt you.” Oh great – she could feel the water works starting. “I wish we could be together again. I wish things could be like they were …”
“And why can’t they?” Jake didn’t wait for an answer, just drew her close and locked his lips on hers. The kiss wasn’t long, but it was enough.
And it didn’t go unnoticed. “That’s givin’ it to her, Jake – ow!” Mr. Hubbard cried from the other side of the coffee shop.
Mrs. Hubbard set her fork down again. “Behave, Forrest. Remember, you were young once.”
Casey was released from his kiss, but not from his gaze. She didn’t want to be, either.
Jake let his arms drop to his sides. “So you wanna go to a barbeque?”
Casey smiled. “So long as I can get off work in time.”
He smiled back. “Don’t worry, you will. Even if I have to talk to your boss myself.”
Casey blushed. This was the Jake she knew from Brooklyn, and so much more. These last few weeks, she realized, he’d been letting her see him, speak with him, get to know him again in her own good time. And he’d kept asking her out, until she was able to accept – not because he’d forgiven her for what had happened in New York, but because she’d finally forgiven herself.
Chapter 13
Casey paced the sidewalk in front of the door to the staircase that led to her apartment. She was excited to spend the day with Jake and his family - he would be there any minute to pick her up. She nervously brushed at her flowered skirt and picked a piece of lint off her light pink peasant blouse. Between those and the simple pair of white flats, she hoped she looked all right.
She’d arrive earlier than the other guests, which suited her fine – she’d have time to meet his family and enjoy their company in peace before the party got going. She certainly hoped “Gabby Sammi” (as Jake called her) didn’t show up - what a disaster that would be! After her display earlier in the week, she had to agree with Jake that the woman was psychotic.
Jake pulled up in front of the building and got out. “Awwww, I was looking forward to knocking on your door,” he said in mock disappointment as he walked around the truck and opened the passenger side door for her.
Casey smiled. He was handsome in his red-plaid shirt, jeans and a straw cowboy hat. The outfit suited him. “You wouldn’t have made it past the first one – I’m the only one with a key other than my landlord.” She climbed in, let him close the door, then watched him walk back around to the driver’s side. There was a bounce in his step she hadn’t seen before.
“Jenny’s baking my cake this morning and making a mess of the kitchen,” he remarked as he got in. “If we’re lucky she’ll have it cleaned up by the time we get to the ranch, but don’t be surprised if she doesn’t.”
“Are you saying you’re embarrassed by a messy kitchen?”
“No, but I wasn’t sure if you’d be.”
“Me? I’ll just be envious of her cooking skills.”
He pulled away from the curb, looking horrified. “Are you telling me you don’t cook?”
“A little. But … well, we had a cook growing up. And when I lived on my own, I mostly ate out. Most of what I eat now are sandwiches and frozen dinners.”
His happy countenance wavered. “Wow. I can’t even imagine what that would be like. Not that I cook – Mom and Jenny do most of it. But if I lived by myself …”
“I understand. If it’s any consolation, most of my friends don’t cook either.”
“I’d get pretty tired of restaurant food. I got tired of it while I was in Brooklyn, no matter how good it was. The variety was nice, though.”
They looked at each other. Brooklyn was still a touchy point for them. On the one hand, it was a reminder of how they met; on the other, it was a reminder of why they’d split, when he and then she had run for the far end of the country. But the past didn’t go away just because it was inconvenient – it was part of their relationship, and they’d just have to come to terms with it. Forgiveness helped a lot, though.
They chatted about his family’s ranch as he drove. Casey saw the countryside with its expanse of sagebrush, juniper trees and pine, giving way to deep green fields of alfalfa hay. It was open, rugged country straight out of an old Western, and she marveled at the effect it had on her. For the first time in her life, she felt free.
“So when were you thinking of getting a car?” he asked, pulling her out of her musings.
“A car? Oh, well, um … I’m not sure when I’ll be able to afford one. And I’ll need to learn to drive first.”
“That’s right, you don’t drive,” he said with a chuckle, glancing between her and the road. “Well, princess, we need to change that. I’ll teach you, how about that?”
Her eyes darted around the truck’s cab. “In this?”
“Sure.”
“Um, I hope you have insurance.”
He laughed. “The best. Don’t worry, I taught Jenny how to drive in this truck. If she could learn, you can.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” she said nervously.
Jake pulled off the highway onto a long gravel drive, and Casey studied her surroundings. Alfalfa fields bordered either side of the driveway, which looked to be at least a quarter-mile long. A long red metal building came into view, with a couple of tractors and other large farm equipment inside. Then, a two-story white farmhouse with red shutters and a large barn. Beyond were more fields, some with cattle in them. Numerous shade trees surrounded the house, and off the barn were several horse runs.
Casey spotted the horses and smiled. “Which one is yours?”
He smiled. “The black one. You’ll meet him later – Mom would kill me if introduced you to Colonel Jackson before the rest of the family.”
Casey laughed. “I don’t doubt it.”
He got out of the truck, and she waited for him to come around and open her door for her. If there was one thing she knew from her days as a debutante, it was proper etiquette. Of course, she wasn’t sure how well it fit with her new surroundings, but it was bound to come in handy now and then.
“Ready to meet the family?” he asked as he took her hand and helped her down.
“Ready as I’ll ever be.”
He shut the door and, her hand still in his, led her up a narrow walk to the back of the house. “Let’s see what sort of mess Jenny has the kitchen in.”
She smiled and wondered what Jenny would think of her seeing said mess.
She didn’t have to wonder long. “Jake, what are you doing?!” Jenny shrieked. “We have a front door, you know!” She had a smudge of chocolate frosting on her face, a mixing bowl in one hand and a spatula in the other. Baking implements were strewn everywhere, along with sacks of flour and sugar, a carton of eggs, a mixer, several other used bowls, a cutting board and various other odds and ends.
He laughed and pulled Casey alongside him. “Casey, meet my sister Jenny.”
“Hi,” Casey said and recognized her from the night Jake walked back into her life. She then looked around the kitchen and knew she’d probably make a bigger mess if she ever tried baking.
Jenny scraped some frosting out of the bowl with the spatula and stuck it in her mouth. “Mwom’s in th’wiving wroom.”
Jake walked over and peeked into the bowl. “I can’t believe you didn’t save me any. It’s my birthday cake.”
She pulled the spatula out. “Which means you’ll have plenty later. Now get lost – I’ve got work to do.”
Jake laughed and led Casey through the kitchen into a di
ning room, then across a foyer, past a staircase and into what must be the living room. His mother sat in a chair, knitting. “Something wrong?” he asked, then turned to Casey. “Mom knits when she’s worried.”
Casey watched Mrs. Sullivan put her knitting in a basket on the floor by the chair. She was pretty, with blonde hair and dark eyes like her son’s. Now she knew where he got them from. His brown hair must come from his father. “I knit to relax,” the woman corrected as she stood and offered Casey a hand. “It’s so nice to finally meet you. I’m Samantha.”
Casey shook her hand. “Casey Woodrow, and the pleasure is all mine.”
His mother glanced at the foyer. “You used the back door, didn’t you?” She shook her head at Jake, who was grinning, then turned to Casey. “I hope the mess didn’t scare you.”
“If it had been me in your kitchen, it would have been a lot worse.”
“Casey doesn’t cook,” Jake volunteered.
Samantha stared at Casey in shock, as if he’d just said she dabbled in arson. “Don’t, or won’t?”
Casey sent Jake a playful glare before turning back to his mother. “Can’t. Never learned to.”
Samantha laughed, put an arm around her and steered her toward the foyer. “Well, we’ll fix that.”
Casey cringed. “You might want to rethink that …”
“Nonsense. I need help with my potato salad. Don’t worry, you’ll do fine.”
Casey looked at Jake, who was still grinning. Now this would make for a very interesting day …
A few hours in the kitchen later, Casey could honestly say that she’d made something from scratch. She could also say she’d never realized so much work could go into a meal – Jake’s mother had started marinating steaks for the barbeque a couple of days before.
Casey had helped shuck and clean cobs of corn, prepare a huge amount of green beans, assist with the green salad, the pasta salad, the potato salad (a Herculean task) and cut up several watermelons. By the time the guests arrived, she was worn out but happy at finishing a crash course in good old-fashioned barbeque cuisine, Sullivan style.