Happy Pants Cafe

by Mimi Jean Pamfiloff

  “I’ll take you into the kitchen,” said Juan.

  “I’ll finish pig-poop detail, then,” said Austin, his voice tinged with irritation.

  Juan walked Harper to the back porch, where she removed her sandals and then followed him inside.

  The kitchen was a traditional country style—white cupboards, big butcher-block counters, ceramic rooster ladle holder, and an oval kitchen table for eight—but with very nice appliances. She had to admit that she liked Ms. Luci’s style. Modern, yet traditional and homey.

  Juan pointed to a chair to have her sit, but all she could think of was that she had pig sick all over her. It wasn’t right to be in any kitchen. Not even a pig’s kitchen. If pigs had kitchens.

  “Juan, is there somewhere I can clean up? I don’t want to get this stuff on anything.”

  “You can take a shower in one of the guest rooms.” He pointed toward a small hallway with several doors. “That one is where your friend will be staying for the week.”

  He showed her to the cozy bedroom—dainty blue floral bedspread on the queen-sized bed, lace doilies on the nightstand, rocking chair in the corner—and attached bath.

  “Towels are in the bathroom. I’ll go upstairs and see if I can find you something to wear in Margarita’s closet.”

  Great. Now she really was going to have to wear some strange woman’s clothes. “Margarita is your sister?”

  “Yes. She’s about your size. Minus the, uh…” Juan’s big brown eyes shamelessly stuck on her boobs.

  Like father, like son.

  Harper clapped her hands in front of his face. “Okay. Thanks. Time for you to go now.”

  Juan snapped to. “Oh. Sorry. I’ll—uh…leave whatever I find for you on the bed.”

  “Thank you. I really appreciate it.” Harper shut the door behind him and began stripping off her soiled clothes. Ick. Even her bra smelled like pig.

  She carefully folded everything and left them in a neat pile on the floor. She’d definitely needed to head back to the B and B for clean clothes, because there was no way she’d be putting on any of that putrid-smelling stuff again, and she couldn’t go without undies and a bra—especially the bra.

  Harper slipped into the shower and started the task of scrubbing her skin with a washcloth. Her mind immediately insisted on drifting back to thoughts of Austin again and that little episode of him sneaking up on her. Why had he been in the barn to begin with? Had he come looking for her? If yes, what did he want?

  Oh. Stop. You’re being ridiculous. He didn’t want anything from you. And you don’t want anything from him. She just needed to keep reminding herself of that.

  ~~

  Physical activity had always been Austin’s surefire solution for everything. Running, basketball with the guys, lifting weights at the gym—nothing expelled the negative crap inside his head more efficiently or calmed him down faster than a good workout. But today, there was no amount of physical exertion—shoveling, lifting, mowing, collecting eggs (okay, the egg part could actually be kind of relaxing)—on this planet that would alleviate his pissy mood. He couldn’t stop thinking about the way Harper had looked at that Latin lover boy Juan when Sebastian had made introductions.

  Sonofbitch. He’d almost slept with Harper last night, and there she was pining for some other guy already. Maybe she did it to make you jealous.

  Or maybe she’d been serious when she’d said she wasn’t into him because she thought he was a womanizer.

  Whatever the reason, he had suddenly found himself marching straight back to the barn to talk to Harper, but was instantly mesmerized by the sound of her laughter followed by her adorable conversation with the pigs. In the space of one heartbeat, he’d forgotten why he’d been so ticked off. Then he just couldn’t resist sneaking up on her and giving her little calf muscle a pinch. He’d felt like such a dick when she’d hit her head, but thankfully, she’d been fine. Then that SOB, Juan, had to show up and try to act like a goddamned hero. For Christ’s sake, it was just a bump. And they were talking about Harper Branton, here. That woman could eat crushed glass for breakfast and drink toxic-waste martinis. Tough as nails.

  Yes, yet soft and feminine and so fucking sexy that you’re getting hard just thinking about her.

  Yes, and right now, she’s with Juanie boy, who is probably flexing his puny little muscles for her.

  He growled and threw a sack of chicken feed over his shoulder.

  If he is, then fine. He can have her.

  That’s what his mind said, anyway. All of the other parts in his body, however…

  All right, then. Go ahead. Give into your childish feelings and go talk to her. But what the fuck do you plan on doing if you convince her to look at you and not Juanie boy over there?

  Nothing.

  Exactly. You’re still not right in the head after Libby. Do Harper a favor and leave her alone.

  Fine.

  He stood their brooding for a moment, threw the sack onto the grass just outside the coop, and marched off toward the house, berating himself every step of the way. Damned woman, where does she get off getting inside my head? Huh? I’m Austin Royce. Women don’t get to me; I get to them. I’m in control.

  He wiped his feet and walked through the front door. The house was a picture-perfect example of an immaculate country mansion with gleaming hardwood floors and simple, but pristine, antique farm memorabilia on the walls— a few old hand tools, a rooster clock, and black-and-white photographs of farmhands posing in a vineyard. To his right, bright light poured from the upstairs down the narrow staircase with a white hand-carved banister. He could sense that this home was filled with a lot of love, just as his had been growing up.

  “Hello? Don Sebastian?”

  There was no answer.

  “Hello? Harper?”

  Again, no reply.

  He walked through the foyer into a hallway, and the living room came into view. Hell, what happened here? Everything looked like it had been charred on the barbeque. He kept walking until he arrived at a large country-style, eat-in kitchen. It was empty, too. Wasn’t Harper supposed to be in there icing her head? Where was everyone?

  “Harper?”

  There was no reply, but Austin spotted another small hallway that looked like it might lead to a few bedrooms. Perhaps Harper had gone to lie down after that blow?

  “Oh, hey,” said Juan, emerging from the room, the smell of fresh, steamy soap or shampoo trailing behind him as he shut the door quickly. In his hands were Harper’s dirty clothes, her pink bra included.

  Juan had been in the room with Harper? And she had no clothes on? Austin felt his blood sizzle.

  He turned around and left to go finish his work without saying a word.

  ~~

  Harper washed herself three times, until she felt satisfactorily human again, and then shut off the shower and wrapped herself in a soft white towel.

  She cracked open the door to the bedroom, ensuring no one was waiting to surprise her. Coast is clear. She tiptoed over to the bed and spotted a stretchy pink dress that looked like it had been hemmed just below the labia.

  What? No. I can’t wear that. Especially without underwear. But I’m suddenly curious to meet Juan’s sister.

  She poked her head out the bedroom door and called for Juan, hoping he might be able to scrounge up something less illegal to wear in front of children, but there was no reply. She quickly eyeballed Austin’s bags on the bed. He wouldn’t mind, would he? Then she’d run back to the B and B, about a twenty or thirty-minute drive, and come back here.

  She quickly rifled through the clothes and found men’s boxer briefs. Pink? How metro of you, Austin. He also had some toiletries, several T-shirts in various colors, socks—cute khaki ones—and a pair of faded jeans.

  She scratched her head. Well, there was nothing else to wear. I can always buy him more later. She grabbed a pair of underwear from the package and slipped them on. Oh. Soft. And lots of room. Harper suddenly envisioned Austin�
�s anatomy and how well he might fill out these boxer briefs. She slid on a tee and then his jeans, rolling down the waistband and rolling up the legs—they were much, much too big. She grabbed her muddy sandals from the back porch, but then doubled back through the kitchen and headed toward the front of the home, passing the living room on the way out.

  Jesus, those kids really did try to light the place on fire. The couch was flipped over in the middle of the room and charcoal black. She was going to try to remember not to think so poorly of her niece and nephew in the future.

  She made it out the front door, carefully walking in her bare feet over the gravel driveway to her Mini. Almost there, she glanced inside the barn and caught a glimpse of Austin moving the wheelbarrow outside, heading in the opposite direction. He’d removed his shirt, and his back muscles were pure male magnificence, as was the way his powerful shoulders tapered down to his trim waist.

  As she stood there watching him, she noticed a deep scar across his shoulder blade. A vague memory of the day he’d gotten it popped in her head.

  Where were we? The garage? The park? She couldn’t remember, but she recalled looking at poor Austin as he’d sucked up the pain because he didn’t want to cry in front of her.

  Why couldn’t she remember?

  As Austin turned, her attention instantly bounced over to the mesmerizing view of one bulging, delicious bicep and the side of his perfectly formed pec as they flexed and strained. Images of him tearing away his shirt the night before bombarded her mind.

  Dammit. Everything about Austin made her insides ache. Literally ache with a gnawing need. Even the way he carried himself—tall and confident, with a straight back—did it for her. He had that perfect balance of cocky masculinity and understated confidence, like he didn’t have anything to prove to anyone because he knew he was a man. Who wore pink underwear. And was damned proud of it.

  She sighed, continuing to gawk for several more moments, when he turned sharply as if sensing being watched. However, instead of saying anything or acknowledging he’d caught her ogling, he simply stared back with a predatory look in his eyes that made her stomach turn into a tornado of flutters. Her heart hammered away inside her chest as the world around them seemed to stand still, their eyes locked.

  Her mind didn’t try to guess what Austin was thinking, because her body was too busy feeling. The fearlessness in his eyes, the jaw flexing with tension, the stiff body poised like a hungry animal about to chase down and devour her in one big bite, all made her feel so goddamned hot that her entire body began to tremble.

  Did I just ovulate?

  Then, just like that, Austin turned away, giving her his back, and disappeared inside the barn.

  Harper fanned her face and gave her head a good shake. Wow. What. Was. That?

  She got in her car and drove away, wondering how in the world she was going to survive this week. And she wasn’t talking about the farm work. Something deep inside her wanted him more than anything she’d ever wanted in her entire life. Perhaps even more than her job. How the hell is that possible?

  CHAPTER SIX

  Driving along the flat stretch of country road that sliced between acres and acres of neatly groomed grapevines, Harper headed back toward town, her entire body shivering despite the ninety-five-degree day. That wordless exchange with Austin had completely neutralized those warm fuzzies from earlier and left her with an unsettling sensation deep in her bones. It was like he’d gotten inside her head and pushed a bunch of buttons she didn’t know she had. “This button will make you feel insecure. Poke!” she said to herself in a deep voice, mocking Austin’s tone. “And this button will make you completely irrational while putting your libido in charge. Poke!”

  But why did he have such an instant effect on her? It was definitely more than simple lust. This thing between them felt profoundly sentimental, like when you heard an old song you associated with a particular event in your life. Suddenly, you’re there again, reliving the emotions. That was definitely how she’d felt when she’d seen that scar on Austin’s shoulder blade, but why couldn’t she remember where he got it?

  Harper hit the Bluetooth button on her car’s console and dialed her mother.

  “Harp! Hey, honey. How’s the story coming along?” her mother asked, sounding as cheery as ever.

  “Well, not so great, actually. The owner of that café I told you about isn’t very happy with me.”

  “Uh-oh. What did you do?”

  “I kind of knocked her over, but it was an accident. Austin and I were racing and—”

  “Austin?”

  “Yeah, Austin. You remember him, right? Our old next-door neighbor?”

  “Of course I do. How did you manage to bump into him?”

  “It’s kind of a long story, but believe it or not, he’s a reporter for the Oakland Examiner. That’s insane, right?”

  “We always said that you two were like mirror images of each other—except that he was a boy and had a big belly.”

  Well, that one pack had turned into a ten pack. Her mother would never recognize Austin now if she got to see him. The man was a living, breathing, talking, walking hunk of manly goodness.

  “Well,” her mother said, “please tell him I say hi and to send his parents my regards.”

  “Will do. But hey, Mom? I have a quick, completely random question.”

  “Yes?”

  “Do you remember anything regarding Austin getting hurt? Specifically, his shoulder blade?”

  There was silence for several long moments. “Mom? You still there?”

  “Uh, yeah, sweetie. I’m here. I just…” her mother’s voice sounded unsteady, “wasn’t expecting you to bring that up.”

  “Bring what up?” Harper asked.

  “The incident.”

  What the hell was her mother talking about? “I’m not following.”

  “So, you really did forget about it.” It wasn’t a question, but more of a realization.

  “Mom, what are you talking about?” Harper didn’t like the sound of where this was going.

  Her mother’s voice cracked. “It was the worst day of my life, Harper.”

  Harper’s heart began to thump inside her chest, and her hands began to tremble. She quickly pulled to the side of the road and picked up the phone, turning off the car’s speaker. “Mom. What. Happened?”

  “A man tried to take you.”

  ~~

  Nineteen years earlier.

  It was the first Saturday morning of summer vacation, and Harper woke with a giant smile glued to her face, already dressed for the day—she’d slept in her favorite cutoff shorts and pink unicorn tee. She couldn’t wait! She and Austin had every minute of every day planned for the next two and a half months. They would camp out in her backyard on Mondays and Wednesdays, and in his tree house on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Fridays were pizza and movie night at her house, but Austin was always welcome. On Sundays, both their mothers made them stay home and help with the chores, clean their rooms, and do horribly boring things like go on family hikes or outings to wherever. But Saturdays? Those were reserved for Nerf gun battles at the park. Both she and Austin had a huge collection (automatic Nerf machine guns, Nerf shotguns, quadruple-barreled Nerf pistols) as did the other kids in the neighborhood. The first battle would start right after breakfast and go until noon, when they both had to go home for lunch.

  Harper hopped out of bed and put her long hair into a ponytail. “Bye, Mom! Going to the park to set up with Austin!”

  “But what about breakfast?” she heard her mother call from somewhere inside the house.

  “No time!” She needed to get to the park early to help arrange the battlefield. They used inflatable rafts and a couple of small pop-up tents for bunkers. Orange cones would mark the line between the two teams’ territories. So fun!

  She sprinted out the front door, with her overflowing backpack full of bright orange plastic weapons, and headed straight next door. She knocked on Austin’s be
droom window, which was at the front of the house, but he didn’t answer, and the curtains were drawn. He’s probably already there, she thought.

  She hit the sidewalk and headed to the park, just a few blocks away and ten houses down. Even though the sun was out, the early morning air still carried a damp chill. Sprinklers from several of her neighbors’ homes clicked away, misting the sidewalk as she passed. When she got to the corner of the park, which occupied one full block—divided into a huge grassy field, playground and picnic area with large pine trees—she didn’t see Austin anywhere. She did, however, spot Mr. Reilly’s dang Mercedes among the long line of cars bordering the park’s perimeter. Bummer. Why did he always park there? She got that it was right across the street from his house, but he always came out and yelled at them when they got too close.

  As Harper’s eyes scanned for Austin, she noticed a beat-up charcoal-gray van, spewing exhaust from the tailpipe, parked directly behind Mr. Reilly’s black car. She wouldn’t have thought much about it, except that there was no one in the driver’s seat and the van had been left running with the side door wide open.

  Harper swiveled on her foot, but didn’t see anyone walking in the street or in the park. Where was the driver?

  And where is Austin? They’d agreed to meet as soon as they woke up, and he always rose before she did. Maybe he’s hiding? Austin did love to sneak up and scare her.

  Harper decided to cut through the picnic area, which was closest to her, and beeline over to the field. As she passed one of the thick and tall pine trees, she unexpectedly bumped into a man who seemed to pop out of nowhere.

  “Hey there,” he said, blocking her way.

  Harper looked up at him, and a sick sensation filled her stomach. The man wore a blue baseball cap and sunglasses. His sweatshirt looked dirty, and he smelled like old, sweaty tennis shoes.

  “I lost my dog,” he said. “Have you seen him?”