Back to the Good Fortune Diner

by Vicki Essex

  * * *

  STUPID, STUPID, STUPID.

  Tiffany stewed in agonizing silence on the ride home. She leaned against the glass, murmuring an excuse about how tired she was when all she wanted was to let out a long, Charlie-Brown-esque “Auuuuugh!”

  She could have blamed the wine, but she’d sobered up somewhere between leaving the restaurant and that second gulp of latte, which wasn’t sitting so well now. No wonder she had such a hard time dating.

  Dating. What a stupid thing to say. This wasn’t a date. He’d wanted to talk about his son—though she supposed he’d wanted to talk about other things, too. But she shouldn’t have assumed that meant he was interested in her in that way. He was only trying to be friendly.

  She was almost relieved when Everville’s town limits came into view. Chris pointed the truck toward the main part of town.

  “My car’s still at the farm.”

  “It’s late, and I’d rather you not drive home in the dark. I’ll have Jane drop your car off tomorrow morning.”

  She was going to argue, but she caught the dogged glint in his eye and kept her mouth shut. It would have added an extra fifty minutes to her ride home if they went to the farm first, and she wasn’t sure she could stand the tension.

  Minutes later, he turned down her street, pulled up to the curb and shut off the motor. She opened the door before she’d even popped the seat belt off. He got out with her. “Is there something you need to talk to Daniel about?” she asked, hesitating.

  “I’m walking you to your door.”

  “Oh.” Was that a thing people did still? She glanced up at the house—the light was off in the living room. Everyone must have had retired for the night. They’d left the porch light on for her, though. “You really don’t have to.”

  He folded his arms over his chest and waited expectantly.

  Oookay. With quick small strides, she went up the short walkway and climbed the three steps, feeling Chris at her back. Was he going to kiss her good-night? A tremor rippled from the base of her skull all the way down to her belly. Even a friendly peck on the cheek would probably make her pass out. She couldn’t let him tease her like that, but she couldn’t let him know she was affected by him, either. She didn’t want things to be more awkward than they already were. God, what if he kissed her out of pity or something?

  At the door, she took out her keys, then stopped. “Thank you for dinner.”

  “You barely ate.”

  She lifted a shoulder. “Then thank you for finding the Starbucks.”

  “This night didn’t turn out the way I wanted it to,” he admitted, scratching the back of his neck. “I’ll take you somewhere nicer next time.”

  “You don’t have to,” she said hastily. She didn’t want him making promises, giving her false hope. “We had fun.” She thought they had, at least, even if she had mucked things up. Now she had to say good-night before she absolutely ruined the evening. She straightened her spine, recovering some of her cool dignity. “It was fine. Good night.” She put her keys in the lock, turning away from him as she opened the door.

  “Wait.” His hand clamped over her upper arm. She turned and jerked the door closed as he stepped closer.

  His face hovered an inch away from hers, eyes lowered to her mouth. She could smell the rich aroma of coffee on his breath, his spicy aftershave and the barest hint of freshly cut grass. Her eyes fluttered close, and she swayed forward, pulled inexorably toward him.

  Their lips met on a surprised half gasp, half moan, and she wasn’t sure which of them had made that sound. Her skin prickled all over as he tasted her, probing until he gained entrance. His mouth was sweet with that splash of bold dark Verona coffee. Her hands slipped around his neck and he pressed forward, backing her against the door as the kiss deepened.

  He leaned into her, and the unmistakable hardness of his arousal pushed against her belly. She wasn’t a virgin, but she’d never felt like this—skin too tight as blood rushed to all the places on her body she wanted him to touch.

  This was no high school crush. What she wanted was decidedly adult.

  Boldly, she ran the tip of her tongue across his, and he groaned. Her nails raked the soft fabric of his shirt. She could feel the way he was flexing his hips, wanting to get closer. She arched her body toward his—

  Chris yanked back as if she’d shocked him, and she stumbled against the doorjamb.

  “I—I...” Chris searched the porch, flustered. “Good night.” He turned, strode quickly to his truck and got in. He didn’t pull away immediately, though. He sat watching her in the driver’s seat, both hands wrapped tightly around the wheel. He was waiting for her to go inside.

  She opened the door, but paused and looked over her shoulder. Still there.

  She smiled. Waved. Then closed the door.

  It was a solid five minutes before she heard the engine start up.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  THE FOLLOWING AFTERNOON, Tiffany darted into the consignment shop and quickly pulled the door closed behind her. Her father had been standing outside the Good Fortune, hands on hips and staring up at the sky as though searching for portents for the day’s business. She wasn’t sure he’d seen her, but she couldn’t press her luck.

  Last night, he’d caught her sneaking up the stairs after her passionate clinch with Chris on the front porch. Before he could ask any questions, she’d said good-night and shut herself in her room, hoping her wet, swollen lips and mussed hair hadn’t given anything away.

  That kiss... She’d replayed it over and over in her head, experienced that same wicked thrill pulse through her at the memory. But the way he’d recoiled, leaving her standing there like an idiot...

  “Hey, Tiffany. You okay?”

  She spun around. “Oh, Maya. Hi. Sorry.” The shopkeeper wore a leopard-print jumpsuit today and black patent-leather heels. A big black bow nestled in her short-cropped hair. She glanced back at the door. “I was lost in thought.”

  “I was about to call and tell you a bunch of your stuff sold this past weekend.”

  “Really?” She clapped her hands together. “That’s great. If you want, I’ve got more clothes I can bring in.” Tiff rifled through her mental closet. She was happy to part with anything that could get her some quick cash.

  Maya gave her the paperwork and handed over a tidy sum of money. It wasn’t a fortune by any means, but it was promising. “So...” Maya gave her an expectant smile. “How are things?”

  “Things?”

  Maya grinned. “Rumor has it you were out with Christopher Jamieson last night.”

  Tiff’s face exploded in flame. She ducked her head, ears so hot they stung.

  “Where did you go? What did you do?” She gave her a sly look. “Did things go well?”

  Her instinct was to simply say it wasn’t anyone’s business what had happened, but as she turned to snap it out, she blurted, “I don’t know.”

  It came out a broken whimper. Maya’s smile became uncertain. “Tiff, are you okay?”

  She shook her head silently, frustration and bewilderment mounting. She wasn’t going to have a breakdown, was she? She didn’t quite feel like crying, but the laughter jammed in her throat. She was confused and besotted and ecstatic and terrified all at once, and she didn’t know what to do about it.

  “Wait.” Maya snatched up a purse and tugged her toward the door. “Let’s go for that coffee.”

  “But...your store...”

  “The great thing about owning a business is that you make your own hours.”

  That was the exact opposite of what her parents had always said: when you own your own business, you can’t afford to stop working. She followed the shopkeeper out, taking a quick peek first to make sure her dad wasn’t outside the diner.

  They walked a few doors down to the Grindery. Tiffany insisted on a table in the back away from the window, just in case a member of her family walked by. Maya brought them each a cup of coffee, sat and folded her hands in
front of her. “So? What happened?”

  Tiffany didn’t know Maya, and yet somehow it was much easier to relate the past evening’s events to her than it would have been to anyone else. The story poured out of her, starting with what had happened when she’d locked herself out of the car and Chris had rescued and hugged her, and ending with the kiss on her porch. Maya only stopped her to ask a few clarifying questions. When she’d finally ended her tale with her going up to her bedroom to a sleepless night, Maya nodded, then broke into a grin.

  “I always wondered if there was anything going on between you guys in high school,” she said, dimples deepening as she flashed her white teeth. “He was with Daphne and all that, and everyone knew how crazy she was, so if she wasn’t freaking out nothing underhanded could’ve been going on. But now...”

  “I’m sorry I barf-talked all over you,” Tiff said, embarrassed she’d dragged this poor woman through her problems. She’d never blabbed like this to someone who wasn’t in her family and even then, she never talked about anything personal. No one in the house needed to hear about her boy troubles.

  Maya propped up her chin. “So, from the way you’re describing dinner, it wasn’t great?”

  “I wouldn’t call it date-worthy, no,” she admitted with a shake of her head, “but I might be a snob when it comes to food.”

  “No, I’d definitely say a buffet is not on any approved list of first-date restaurants. Driving out to Osprey Peak tells me something else, though. But you said nothing happened out there?”

  Tiff shook her head. “We just talked.”

  “Talk about mixed messages.” She tapped her black-tipped nails on the table. “So, are you going on a second date with him?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Maya studied her, confused. “Maybe I’m asking the wrong questions. Do you want to go on a second date?”

  Tiff shrugged. “I’m really not the one to determine that.”

  “Why not? Nothing in the rule book says you can’t ask him out. What you need to ask yourself is, what do you want this thing between you to be?”

  “Over.” She rubbed her temples. “I can’t ask him out. We have different lives now. I have a career path I have to follow. A life in the city. I’m not sticking around here, and I don’t need this to complicate things.” No matter how much she wanted a complication like Chris.

  “‘The lady doth protest too much, methinks,’” Maya quipped, and Tiffany chuckled dryly. Great, more Shakespeare. When it came to her love life, though, things usually ended in tragedy.

  “Look, you guys have a history. It could be that there was always friction between you, and now that you’re adults and both available, you can explore those feelings. But you’re also his son’s tutor. He’s paying you to help Simon, and that kind of employer-employee relationship can get sticky. Anyhow, it wasn’t as if he was going to push you into your parents’ house and ravage you on the dining-room table, right?” She sat back, and a sly look crossed her face. “Maybe you’re simply in lust with him.”

  “What?” Tiff sat back hard, startled.

  “Chris is a good-looking guy. Half the girls were in love with him. You’re here temporarily. It’s summertime. Why not have a fling? Get him out of your system, make a few good memories to take with you.”

  “I...I...” She’d never considered a fling because...well, it had never crossed her mind. Being with Chris had simply never been a real possibility before—only a fantasy daydream. The idea that she could indulge herself and say goodbye when things had run their course was too tempting, and deliciously simple. And she liked simple.

  A guy like Chris could get sex however and whenever he wanted, but he’d shown an unmistakable interest in her. Tiffany would be too happy to oblige him. And then, before he got bored, she’d say goodbye and head back to New York.

  The more she thought about it, the more it made perfect sense.

  * * *

  CHRIS’S TURBULENT THOUGHTS were as mercurial as the mid-July weather. Neither could decide on one mood. Most days dawned with the golden haze of promise and desire, but by midmorning, a warm, heavy rain of regret would drench him, and by late afternoon, he’d be wallowing beneath hot, sticky, oppressive self-loathing.

  He shouldn’t have kissed Tiffany. That much he knew for sure. Apart from the fact she was Simon’s tutor and on his payroll, he knew they couldn’t start anything and hope for it to last. The moment she’d secured a job, she was going back to New York. She’d made that abundantly clear.

  But damn. If he’d known she kissed like that, well... He didn’t know what. He wasn’t even sure what was going on in his head when he’d walked her to the door. He’d thought, at most, it would be a friendly peck on the cheek good-night. Another hug, perhaps. Tiffany had never struck him as all that touchy-feely. Okay, so he’d acknowledged that spark of interest that had been smoldering since he’d first heard she’d come back to Everville. And he’d admitted on the drive back home that he’d always been more than a little curious. But as he’d stood there, watching her open the door, something in his chest had balled up tight as she turned away from him. In that brief, insane moment, he hadn’t wanted to let her go. He’d stopped her bodily, and what happened after that still made him uncomfortable in ways that thrilled and frightened him.

  He set down his toolbox and gulped tepid water from his sport bottle, trying to quench a thirst he hadn’t been able to slake all week. He’d been tinkering with this irrigation pump for way too long. It’d been fixed an hour ago, but he’d been stalling, knowing the rest of his chores were in and around the barn, within sight of the house and of Tiffany. All week, he’d stayed as far away from her as possible, even if it meant he was out in the fields during the stickiest part of the day. He didn’t want to fight with the temptation to go up and say hello.

  The sound of an approaching ATV made him look up. “You planning on digging a new dike out here or something?” Jane called as she slowed. “You’ve been out here for nearly three hours. I swear you’re staring at the ground, hoping it’ll dig itself or something.”

  “Just lost in thought.”

  “Should I be worried? Last time you started thinking, we ended up with a dozen windmills on county land. I don’t need to remind you how many people we made mad about it.”

  “They haven’t complained since.” He dusted off his hands, unsure of what to do with them. “I was thinking about that compost program....”

  Jane interrupted with a snort. “Now, there’s a load of crap, pardon my pun. You have something on your mind, that’s for sure, but it’s not fertilizer. How come you haven’t gone up to the house while Tiffany’s been around? Things get awkward between you on your date?”

  Damned gossip mill. He kept his expression carefully neutral. “It wasn’t a date.”

  Jane chuckled. “Whatever it was, it’s keeping you out here, baking under the sun in ninety-degree heat. You wanna tell me why a tiny, pretty girl like her is scaring you off?”

  “It’s not like that.” He refused to meet her eyes. Jane could read lies on a statue’s face and wasn’t afraid of calling “liar, liar” on anyone.

  She turned off the ATV’s engine and leaned casually against the handlebars. “Look, I know how hard it is to get back on the dating wagon after a bad breakup. I don’t pretend to know what was between you and Daphne, but no matter how the divorce went, it can sting, even years later.” She picked up the Grindery coffee cup from the cup holder attached to the handlebars and tipped it at him. “From what I’ve seen, though, you could do a lot worse than that young lady. She’d make a good match for you and a fine stepmom for your son.”

  He tried to laugh her off. “She’s not really my type.” Liar, liar... “I prefer hometown girls. Ones with more meat on their bones. Ones that are stacked like layer cakes and have a little more boom and ba-da, if you know what I mean.” He traced the air with a crude hourglass outline.

  Jane sent him a flat look, clearly unimpressed by
his act.

  Pants on fire.

  He sighed in defeat. “Look, it’s complicated. I’m Daniel’s friend, for one, and I don’t want him coming after me for going out with his sister.” Though he was certain that Tiffany’s brother would do no such thing. “And she’s too much like Daphne. She’s used to finer things. She’s a city girl at heart. She likes variety and five-dollar coffees and designer labels. There’s nothing here for her. Anyhow, as soon as she gets a job, she’ll head back to New York. She won’t stick around.”

  “She might with the right incentive. Don’t sell yourself short, Chris. She could do a lot worse than you, too.”

  Jane was crazy. A little chemistry and a shared past didn’t translate into wedding bells and forever love. He’d had much more with Daphne, and he’d once believed he was in love with her. Some happily-ever-after that turned out to be. One kiss didn’t mean anything, no matter how hot those sparks had been.

  And he had to think about Simon. His son had faced enough rejection and disappointment in life. He couldn’t pretend that he could work something out with Tiffany when he could barely manage to provide for his own family. It was better to go back to the way things were. Tiffany was Simon’s tutor. And they were...friends. He should treat her accordingly.

  “You need to get out of this sun,” Jane said, squinting up at the sky. “That’s an order. I don’t want to be hauling you to the hospital ’cause you were too stubborn and stupid to avoid heatstroke.”

  “Thanks, Mom.”

  She swatted his backside with her trucker cap as he loaded his toolbox onto the rear of the ATV and hopped on. When they arrived at the barn, he headed to the tack room to put his tools away. He unlatched and slid the big barn door open.

  “Close the door!”

  He slipped in past the crack before quickly pulling it shut. Simon peeked down from the loft. “What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be with Tiffany?” Chris asked.