She did not allow herself to feel the shudder that ran across her shoulders where his hand almost touched. “What are you hungry for?” she asked him as they walked down the sidewalk.
“You know me,” he said. “I’m always up for anything.”
She shook her head. “Once I knew you, but that was a long time ago.” She sneaked a look at him. It was difficult to be subtle about looking up at him while they walked side by side. As far as she could tell, he wasn’t offended by her statement. “Pick something.”
“Is there a good noodle place around here?” he asked.
She wrinkled up her nose. “Noodles? Like spaghetti?”
He laughed. “Noodles like pho?”
Really? “Haven’t you been living in some shack on the side of a mountain for the last five years? How did you develop a palate for Vietnamese food?”
“First of all,” Fletcher said, “your use of the word ‘shack’ offends me.” His smile and his tone suggested otherwise. “And secondly, yes. I’ve been living in a shack on the side of a mountain for the last five years. One of the guys liked to cook.” He shrugged as if the connection were obvious.
“Huh. Well, I am quite sure there is not a noodle place within walking distance. The Bamboo Hut is still dishing up their frightening blend of Chinese and Chinese-ish foods. They sell things made of noodles, I’m pretty sure.” She was baiting him, and she was certain he knew it.
“Pass,” he said. “After the all-night graduation party, I made a solemn vow never to eat at The Bamboo Hut again, and I am a man who honors solemn vows.”
She nodded. “Particularly when your vow is directly, painfully related to gastric distress,” she said.
He made a gesture almost like a bow. “Mine or someone else’s,” he conceded.
Wow, she had missed this. Sharing memories, simple flirting, not trying to make any impressions. And he was being so…nice to her. When he wasn’t insulting her life’s work.
He had always been nice to her, she reminded herself, but lately the men she met were far too concerned with, well, other things to spend any time being nice.
She pointed to Griddles. “I recall that you enjoy a burger on occasion.”
“Yeah, that’s true. And I’ve gotten something delivered to the station from nearly every burger place in town in the last two weeks, but I haven’t eaten here.”
They stepped inside and were greeted by the hostess who asked if they’d like a table or a booth.
“Booth,” they answered together.
Hadley had sudden and strong memories of squeezing into the same side of a booth close enough that several more people could have sat beside them. When they were dating, they couldn’t ever seem to be close enough together.
The hostess grabbed two huge laminated menus and directed them with her head. They followed, Hadley trying to forget what it felt like to sit with Fletcher’s entire leg pressed into the side of hers.
“This okay?” the hostess asked. Hadley nodded and slid into one side of the booth while Fletcher slid into the other. Was he also thinking of all the times they’d squeezed in together?
He looked at her with his entirely-too-sexy half smile, and she was afraid that if he mentioned sharing a booth, she’d leap over the table and into his lap. But instead, he asked, “How are their fries?”
Safety.
There was always safety in deep-fried potato products. Absolutely nothing sexy about fries.
“I mean, can they be anything other than good?” she asked.
Fletcher shrugged, and said, “You know me.” He shook his head. “Correction, you knew me, and you may remember that I never met a potato I didn’t like.”
“I do seem to recall that about you.” Hadley felt her body language (fist under chin, gazing across the table, eyes glazed, practically drooling) might be sending the wrong message, so she sat up straight and read her menu. All the sandwiches had clever names, which she appreciated as much for the inherent comedy of eating a sandwich with a name as for the necessity of giving the menu all her attention.
“Hi,” a voice sang. “I’m Jace, and I’ll be helping y’all out today.” Hadley looked up to see a young guy with such a strong Jonathan Van Ness vibe that she grinned all over her face. For half a second, she worried how Fletcher would respond, but he smiled, too.
Placing his hands on either side of his giant menu, Fletcher said, “Hi, Jace. I have a question. If you were choosing between California Dreaming and the Never as Neutral as Switzerland, where would you lean?”
After watching his reaction for a few seconds, Hadley decided that given any choice about anything at all, Jace would lean directly into Fletcher, but he maintained neutral posture and said, “I’m not a big bacon fan, so Switzerland gets my vote. The truffle oil we cook the mushrooms in is like liquid heaven.” He gestured in front of himself like he was having a spiritual experience. “But I will tell you that a lot of people love the spicy guacamole on the California.”
Hadley cut in. “Yeah, he’s out.” She pointed an accusatory finger across the booth. “Not a guacamole lover, this one.”
Fletcher shook his head, ignoring Hadley and nodding at Jace. “You had me at liquid heaven,” he said. “I’d like the Switzerland and,” he said, making a gesture roughly the size and shape of a basketball, “a little order of fries.”
Jace laughed. He imitated the gesture. “Just a little order?”
Fletcher beckoned Jace a little closer and said in an undertone, “Just bring me all the fries, man. Help a brother out.”
“Gotcha,” Jace said with a wink that didn’t faze Fletcher at all.
Hadley couldn’t help it. She was impressed. Not because Fletcher could eat like a teenager and still look like he looked, but because he was being so cool with the waiter. Back in high school, Fletcher’s group of friends had not exactly been famous for opening their arms to guys like Jace.
He’d grown up. He’d changed. Something to think about.
“All right, gorgeous,” Jace said to Hadley. “What am I bringing you?”
She did not read anything into his use of “gorgeous” other than he was working for his tip. “You sold me on the guacamole. Bring me a California Dreaming, please.”
“And to drink?”
Hadley and Fletcher both answered, “Water, please.”
Jace collected their menus and said, “I’ll get those started right away for you.”
Hadley found herself staring across the table again and picked up a napkin-wrapped set of silverware, so she’d have something other than Fletcher’s face to look at.
“So, the bookstore,” Fletcher prompted.
Immediately Hadley felt defensive. Was he going to continue his list of reasons her shop was a deathtrap? Because she had all the ammunition she would ever need to throw back at him. Nothing bad had happened yet. People loved paper. Books made us happy. Upcycling was good for the planet. Retro was having a moment.
But she was tired of fighting that battle. Instead of launching into an angry tirade against him, she sighed and asked, “What about it?”
Jace brought them tall glasses of water and stepped away without saying anything.
“What’s your plan for making it safe?”
She shook her head. “This is not lunch with an old friend. This is an inquisition.”
He held out a hand to stop her. “Not at all. I just don’t want to see your dreams go up in smoke.”
“Fireman humor?” She took a drink from her glass. “I guess I should have expected that.”
“Think of it as a professional courtesy.”
“I’ll let you know if I require your professional help.” Why did everyone assume she couldn’t do this? Why couldn’t someone be on her side? “Can we talk about something else?” Tears pricked at her eyes, and she forced herself to look at the funky lamp hanging over the table until she regained control.
Luckily, at that moment, Jace sashayed over and set a gigantic basket of fries betw
een them.
Fletcher put the basket directly in the center of the table.
“Burgers will be ready in a minute, but I didn’t want anyone perishing from hunger,” Jace said. He placed a tray with three bowls of dipping sauce next to the fries. “Garlic aioli,” he said, pointing to each one in turn, “spicy ketchup, and lemon-dill. See how that grabs you.”
Fletcher picked up two fries at once, and Hadley suddenly remembered that was how he’d always done it. Like one was just not going to suffice. He dragged the fries through one of the dips and shoved them into his mouth, his expression blooming into utter delight.
She could watch this all day.
When he’d chewed and swallowed, he picked up another pair of fries and dipped. This time he leaned across the table and said, “Should we talk about fries? You have to try this.”
He held the fries in front of her mouth, and when she didn’t immediately open and snatch them, he used his other hand to gently touch the space between her lower lip and her chin. Her mouth opened, whether in reflex or shock, and put the hot, delicious fries in her mouth.
Hadley reminded herself to reconsider that “nothing sexy about fries” thought she’d had earlier.
She closed her eyes and breathed it all in. Yes, the food was delicious. Very. But so was his touch.
When she spoke, her voice came out more air than volume. “That was amazing,” she said, then pointed to the fries just in case he’d misunderstood. Or understood too well.
He kept eating. “Help yourself,” he said between bites. But, somehow, she preferred to keep the memory of the food intimately attached to the memory of his touch.
She knew that was a therapy-worthy thought, and she questioned herself while she watched him devour the fries. Why had that small touch of a single finger below her mouth sent shivers up and down her entire body? Why did she feel seventeen again?
I mean, she thought, it’s not like nobody ever touches me. People touched her. They did. She had dates. She went out.
She was justifying her dating life to herself, and she didn’t have to. She shook it off and returned to the conversation they’d been having about her shop before…the fries came.
“If I wanted to tell you some things about the shop but I didn’t want you to tell me why it’s dumb or dangerous or a bad investment, could you act like a normal friend and just listen to me?” she asked.
Fletcher said, “A normal friend that wouldn’t tell you things you need to hear?”
She sighed. “Or a normal friend who assumes that I could have heard them before?”
He shrugged and shoved a few more fries into his mouth.
“When I decided to open the bookshop, I knew I wanted it to feel like somebody’s grandma’s attic: full of history and memories and mysteries.”
He nodded and watched her without stopping the continuous and frankly fascinating movement of hand from basket to mouth.
Hadley cleared her throat in an effort to clear her head. “So, I scouted out garage sales and flea markets and Craigslist for decorations and furniture and shelves.”
He smiled around a bite, and she forgot what she was talking about. All she could see was his smile, his attention all on her.
Oh. Bookstore. Right.
“Fun fact: Did you know that you can buy books by the pound?” she asked. “They come delivered on pallets.”
“Old or new?” Fletcher asked before he took another bite. He seemed perfectly happy to listen to her talk while he ate.
“Either. Both. It’s always a surprise what shows up.”
He swallowed and said, “Like Christmas.”
She shook her head. “Except I’m never surprised at Christmas. I always know exactly what’s coming.”
Hadley’s family was big on the joy of getting precisely what you wanted, to the extent that all her gifts were either things she put in a digital shopping cart or actually bought for herself and then got repaid for. It worked out just fine. Who needed surprises, anyway?
But she did love delivery day from the book warehouses or the estate sales.
The crack of a laden pallet, the squeak of plastic wrap. Slick covers sliding across each other as she lifted each book to inspect it. She had no misguided expectations that she’d unearth hundreds of money-makers in an inexpensive bundle of books, but the journey was so fun.
She didn’t know how to translate that to a thrill-seeker fireman, though. How could she explain the tingle of excitement at finding a hand-tipped illustration when he was used to smothering walls of flame? She knew they had nothing in common anymore, and if she tried to force a connection, she’d only end up hurt. Again.
Just as Fletcher threatened to reach the bottom of his vat of fries, Jace reappeared with two platters of gorgeous burgers. He placed them on the table with a flourish that Hadley imagined everyone received but not everyone appreciated.
“Enjoy,” he said, backing away from the table.
Hadley was glad she’d refrained from eating half of Fletcher’s fries, because her sandwich was enormous. She put the top bun on it and could barely hold it in two hands. Squishing the buns together, she managed to get a bite inside her mouth.
“Oh, that’s good,” she said, her mouth full of food. Fletcher managed to be neither shocked nor dismayed by her lack of manners. He grinned and pointed to the corner of his mouth, and she touched the edge of her own. Her finger came away with a blob of guacamole from her burger. She wiped her mouth with a napkin and wondered how closely he was watching her mouth to notice that.
As it happened, he didn’t touch her face again, but his eyes never left hers. She felt his gaze like a physical caress.
What was happening? Even though he’d made it clear that he thought she was silly and foolish to do business her way, he appeared to still find her attractive. And she couldn’t deny what his proximity was doing to her.
Was this real?
Also, when was the last time she’d had a meal as delicious as this burger?
When he checked his watch and told her they’d better be getting her back to the shop, she recalled that, oh, yeah, she owned a store and had a few responsibilities, and probably there was something else she was forgetting while all of the ‘business of running a business’ flew away from her mind.
Jace brought a check and Fletcher picked it up. Sliding a credit card into the black folder, he asked, “And would you mind wrapping a turkey with lettuce and tomato on wheat to go?”
Wow. Right. Faith. Fletcher remembered hearing Faith ask Hadley to bring her lunch.
If it weren’t for his condescending and patronizing attitude about all the things she worked hard for, she’d have found it difficult to remember why they’d ever broken up at all.
Chapter 7
“Why did you break up with her?” Nick asked Fletcher as they drove the practice course, a reconstruction of a high school driving range, but with higher stakes and larger parking stalls.
Over the past few weeks, Fletcher had tried to politely shut down any discussion about his history with Hadley. Nothing good could come from dissecting something so long dead. He hadn’t told Nick anything about his relationship with Hadley beyond that they used to date. But the guys talked, and Fletcher had to assume that Savanna talked to everyone but him. One afternoon when Hadley was dropping off more donations, Red had asked Fletcher what was happening between the two of them in front of Nick. He made it very clear that nothing was happening, but his denial led to a little good-natured ribbing about their history, so the secret of how serious he and Hadley had been, if it had ever been a secret, was out.
Why had he broken up with her?
Fletcher had been asking himself the same question for days now. When he walked her back to her shop the day before after staring at her over the best burger he’d had in weeks, he’d been grateful that it was time to meet his mom at the clinic; he had a built-in excuse to say goodbye. Otherwise, he worried, he might have overstayed his welcome, wandering through
the crowded aisles, colorful stacks, and comfy décor of her store, looking for code violations and watching how she fit perfectly inside the controlled chaos of Second Glance.
Why had he broken up with her?
It wasn’t as simple as that.
Every year they’d been together had been an adventure. Hadley made life sparkle. Her sense of adventure was outmatched only by the utter joy she seemed to experience at every turn. His dad had understood.
“She’s fun, and you could use a little more fun in your life,” he had often said. Not that Fletcher had been a totally serious kid, but between worrying about his grades and hoping to earn a university scholarship, he was, he knew, driven. And his dad, seeing Hadley’s energetic, headfirst charge at every aspect of her life, had felt drawn to her. He made it clear Fletcher was lucky to have found her, and that he was lucky that she had thought he deserved her. His dad had been right.
But after two years at university, Hadley had changed.
She was still exciting and fiery and fun, but every conversation eventually turned to the capital-F Future. Not necessarily their future; mainly what seemed important was her future. Her success. Her achievement. Her return on investment. In the quest for a perfect ending, she seemed to lose sight of the beginning and the middle.
Fletcher realized that he’d been staring out the window of the truck. As Nick patiently waited for an answer to his question, Fletcher turned to him and shrugged. “She didn’t need me,” he said.
He knew two things for sure: those words sounded pathetic, and they were entirely true.
Having made a habit of studying personalities, Fletcher learned that some people grew sweeter as they aged. Some grew lazy. Some seemed to discover previously hidden depths and unsuspected talents. Hadley had grown independent. With a vengeance.
Through the intervening years, Fletcher tried to pinpoint when Hadley’s transformation from carefree girlfriend to tunnel-visioned entrepreneur had begun. That wasn’t fair, he told himself. But it really kind of was. There must have been a moment, a place in time he should have been able to pinpoint, but he hadn’t seen it. Her newfound fierce independence had blindsided him and left him untethered and unmoored.
Falling for a Former Flame: A Sweet Romantic Comedy (ABCs of Love) Page 6