112 Bliss Blvd. (A Cherry Falls Romance)

by Frankie Love

  “Jokes about being an auto mechanic?” He runs a hand over his jaw. “Not sure I have any new material.”

  I smile, liking his gentle humor. “How about this one? I brought my car to a mechanic and asked him, do you have any idea why my car is humming? He replied, probably because it doesn’t know all the lyrics.”

  Grant grins. “You think that’ll break the ice?”

  I nod. “Worth a shot.”

  “How about I take you out this weekend? I can let you know if your tips worked out.”

  “Are you asking me out, Grant Blake?”

  His cheeks go red and he runs a hand over the base of his neck. “I think I am.”

  “Well, good, because I am very much looking forward to it.”

  Chapter Three

  Grant

  I don’t tell my brothers I’m taking Goldie out this weekend. One, they would immediately comment on how she’s not my type. She’s bright and shiny and flashes her smile every chance she gets. Me? I’m reserved and keep to myself — but that isn’t the only reason I’m hesitant to fill them in on the near kiss in the back of the theater. My brothers like to talk and I am not particularly interested in this circulating through Cherry Falls quite yet. Hell, I just met the girl, and I have no idea how this date with someone so opposite me will go.

  And by morning… let’s just say we aren’t off to a great start.

  My home is right next door to the theater — and around 11 p.m. a speaker turned on, and an album of show tunes start blaring. Well, not blaring, but I’m right next door, so I could hear her belting out songs while hammering nails. What she was hammering, I haven’t a clue. Her voice is great, don’t get me wrong, but it went on for hours. She got on the phone at one point, and stood outside, talking loud enough that I put in my AirPods to drown out the noise.

  By the morning I was exhausted, and in a piss-poor mood. I’ve never been a night owl. Especially this last year. After battling insomnia for far too long, I saw a doctor who helped me on a routine to get my sleep schedule in order. Now, I never mess with it. Ever. I go to bed at a decent hour each night so I can get up early for a run with Otis, then lift weights in the basement. After that I make a pot of coffee and shower, then eat oatmeal over the Cherry Falls Gazette.

  I like routine. And order. And it’s not because I’m some type A asshat — it’s because without it, the demons of my past haunt me. And I don’t want to go to that dark place again. Ever.

  The theater, and her apartment behind it, are pitch black when I return to my place with a worn-out Otis. I give him food and water, looking through my kitchen window, wondering how late Goldie must sleep. I’m guessing late since she was awake till 4 a.m.

  I get to the elementary school with time to spare, and I do my best to break the ice with the squirrely eight-year-olds.

  The joke works like a charm and Hailey helps me by asking questions. They are easy enough to answer.

  “Why did you choose to be a mechanic?” she asks.

  “I like to fix things, always have,” I tell her and the students. “And I like to work alone, to focus on a problem until I can solve it.”

  “And do you like having a family business in Cherry Falls?”

  I pause, remembering Goldie’s tips — don’t fear silence. I think how my brothers drive me crazy half the time, but don’t want to say a bad word about my family. I decide on something that is more accurate.

  “I love it. Cherry Falls is the only place I can imagine living, and the fact I get to work with the guys I love most in the world, well, it’s the cherry on top.”

  Hailey’s students shout their thanks to me and she tells me I did great. But by the time I leave the schoolhouse, the exhaustion of not getting any sleep is starting to wear on me.

  At work my brothers can tell I’m in a foul mood — what can I say, I’m a man who loves his sleep. “Dude, you look like crap,” Grayson says as I try to stay awake over my sandwich at lunch.

  “I didn’t get much sleep.”

  Garret chuckles. “Did you stay up all night with that new girl in town? Because if you did, I’m impressed.”

  I frown. Not liking the idea of my brother having the hots for Goldie. “Impressed, why? You have a thing for her?”

  Garret shakes his head, taking a bite of his ham and cheese. “No, not at all. I just meant I’m impressed because she seems a little out of your league.”

  Irritated, I scowl. “What the hell does that mean?”

  “It means she looks like she belongs in some big city, not a small town. And you, Grant Blake, are a small-town guy.”

  I can’t argue with that. He hit the nail on the head. “Well, I didn’t stay up with her, so you can get that out of your filthy minds.”

  My brothers laugh, changing the topic to the winter carnival in Kissme Bay this weekend. And I’m glad for it. Besides, it gives me an idea for where I can take Goldie tomorrow night.

  After work, I’m about to walk home when I see Goldie struggling with an armful of paper bags from the Cherry Street Market. She’s right in front of the grocery store, in a pair of bright red shorts, tights underneath, and a faux leopard fur coat. Her lips are bright red, and her eyes light up when she sees me hustling across the street from the auto shop.

  “Perfect timing,” she says. “You can help me. I was only coming for two things and somehow ended up with more than I can carry.” She hands me a bag, and I chuckle, a little in awe of her comfort level with me considering we only met yesterday. But she isn’t the sort of person who needs time to warm up. I can tell as she begins telling me all about her day that she’s the sort of woman who has never met a stranger.

  “So when I got up I realized I had kept a window open all night. The place was freezing.”

  “Why was a window open in January?” I ask as we walk past the Cherry Pie Pizzeria. It smells good and my stomach rumbles.

  “You’re hungry?” she asks. “We could get a slice.”

  “I am hungry, but you have these groceries.”

  “Nothing is frozen. It’ll be fine. Besides, to be honest, it’s mostly popcorn and boxed wine.”

  “Not much of a cook?” I ask, suppressing a smile. She reaches for the door, and we walk inside the pizza joint.

  “No. And I mean, wine is a fruit, and popcorn is a vegetable. Technically. I round out my diet with pepperoni pizza. Meat and cheese. See, totally balanced.”

  “Totally,” I say with a laugh. I see a few folks I know. Harrison Higgins, the pastor at the Cherry Falls Chapel, is sitting with his daughter Harper. I helped him restore his old Buick last fall.

  We order a pizza and a pitcher of pale ale, and we tug off our coats. My cock twitches at the sight of her in that tight sweater covered in silver snowflakes and I clench my jaw together, wondering how this glittering girl is gonna fit into this small town. She looks like she was made for NYC, with her name in lights. Not a little pizza parlor with a mechanic.

  “So tell me everything,” she says, pressing her palms together and looking at me with anticipation.

  “About…?” I take a drink of my beer, watching her mouth fall open.

  “Don’t play hard to get, Grant Blake. Tell me about career day. I’ve been thinking about it all day.”

  “Oh yeah? I would have thought you had slept all day.”

  “What’s that mean?” she asks, taking a sip of her beer.

  “You were up nearly all night. Figured you’d sleep all day.”

  She grimaces. “Oh god, did I keep you up?”

  I thank the waitress as she delivers our pizza. Goldie and I both reach for slices. “I think we have opposite sleep schedules, is all. I get up at 5 a.m.”

  She laughs, her head falling back. “That sounds awful.”

  “To answer your first question, career day went fine, the joke even got some laughs.”

  She exhales exaggeratedly. “Well, thank god. I was nervous. You never know with kids how a joke is gonna land.”

  “Hon
estly, I just tried to relax. And Hailey helped with asking questions.”

  “So Hailey… is she… are you…?”

  “Are you asking if I’m into her?” I shake my head. “Nah, she’s a sweetheart, but not my type.”

  Goldie takes a bite of the pizza, nodding. “I see, so you have a type?”

  I take a drink of beer to avoid answering. “Maybe it’s not a type so much as chemistry.”

  “I was never any good at science,” she says with a shrug and a smile.

  “You sure? Because you dress like a shooting star. I’d think you were good at astronomy at least.”

  She bites her bottom lip, looking way too pretty for this place. She should be on camera, on stage. Anywhere but here. “You noticed my clothes?” Her cheeks turn pink.

  “Those short shorts are a new look for Cherry Falls.”

  She laughs loudly. I love the sound. It is wide open, like she’d let anyone in. It makes me feel like maybe I could open up and let her in too.

  “I know I’m a little flashy for this town but I think it could use a little sparkle – and more hot pants.”

  I nod. “I couldn’t agree more.”

  Chapter Four

  Goldie

  When we get back to our street, we stand in front of the theater, and I look over at his house. The trimmed hedges and picket fence and fresh-paint perfection. I know on paper we don’t match but there is something about Grant that has me gravitating toward him. He is steady, strong, down to earth. Every guy I’ve ever dated wanted to be a bigger star than me, but Grant isn’t looking for the limelight; he doesn’t need the applause of strangers. He already knows precisely who he is.

  I just wonder what I’d need to do to crack him open and find out myself. In the tiny apartment on the back of the theater, Grant sets the groceries on my kitchen counter.

  I want to ask him to stay, but my phone rings and I see it’s my grandma. “Shoot, I should get this,” I say.

  “Yeah, of course,” he says. “I need to feed my dog dinner.”

  We hesitate for a moment, and I think he is going to kiss me. I want him to… but the phone is still ringing and he places a hand on the doorknob. “Tomorrow, I’ll pick you up at six. Wear a warm coat.”

  He leaves and I lean against the counter for a moment, thinking of his dark eyes when they were locked on mine, how when we sat at the pizza parlor I felt happy in a way I never, ever do. Like I didn’t need to put on a smile, like I could just be me and Grant would be okay with that.

  My phone rings again, bringing me back to the moment, and I answer it. “Hey Grandma.” I begin unloading my groceries, pouring a glass of wine with the phone tucked under my ear.

  “So you met Grant Blake? Your mother told me. Seems like an interesting choice for you, dear.”

  I snort. “Yeah, he is the exact opposite of Seb.”

  “That’s a good thing. You and that man were fire and ice, never on the same page.”

  “Things ended on good terms though. And it got me out of my comfort zone. I’m here, in Cherry Falls. I never planned on that.”

  Grandma laughs. “Oh Goldie, you never plan anything though.”

  I scoff playfully. “I’m planning an entire play!”

  “That’s true,” Grandma says. “Once you put your mind to something you follow through, it’s just you go where the wind takes you.”

  For the last few years I’ve been auditioning for shows in Syn City without knowing where it might lead. It’s gotten me exactly nowhere. Now, here I am. I pull out a bag of popcorn from the grocery bag. Yes, I just ate dinner, but eating popcorn and dishing with my grandma has always been one of my favorite things.

  “So tell me,” she says. “How is the theater?”

  “It’s great. I spent all afternoon cleaning, and I put fliers for next week’s auditions around town. Every store I went into was fine with having it in their window. And the newspaper is running it tomorrow.”

  “That’s Cherry Falls for you,” Grandma says. “Everyone looking out for one another.”

  “Do you miss it? Being here?”

  “Oh, well, sometimes, but it was different when your grandpa was alive, running the theater with me. I never did like living alone.”

  I swallow, looking around the apartment my grandparents lived in for decades. It’s got two bedrooms, barely big enough for double beds. I can relate. I hate living alone too. Back in college I spent a year in my own apartment and was itching for roommates. The last few years I’ve lived with my mom and Grandma. Being alone never felt natural to me.

  “It’s weird not being at the apartment with you and mom.”

  “It’s good for you, Goldie, and you needed to leave the city. After that last audition, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so disheartened. You’re there following your bliss, remember?”

  “I remember,” I say, remembering the big plan I hatched a few weeks back when I didn’t get the role I was hoping for. This plan seemed exciting at the time, but now being here in this empty apartment, in a big lonely theater, I wonder if I bit off more than I can chew.

  “Focus on the theater and the auditions,” she tells me as I peer out the window, looking at Grant’s house.

  “That’s what I’m planning on doing,” I tell her.

  Well, that, and going out with Grant tomorrow night.

  I see Grant opening his back door and taking out the trash. He is a responsible, put together man. My belly flip-flops. He seems too good to be true… and way too grounded for a flight risk like me.

  When I wake up, it’s after ten and I need some morning fuel. Somehow, despite getting groceries last night, I forgot to buy coffee, so I brush my teeth, pull on a pair of leggings, Uggs — my bright pink ones — and a big fluffy pink coat to match. I don’t bother with make-up and pull my hair into a bun on the top of my head, remembering to shove my wallet in my pocket before walking outside. I see Grant straight away, and I realize it is impossible to make it through a day without seeing him considering we are neighbors.

  I’ve lived in Syn City all my life, where I never ran into people, but Cherry Falls is different. And it’s going to take some getting used to.

  He waves, his beagle on a leash. “Hey, good morning. This is Otis.”

  I lean down and pet him. He’s adorable, and he suits Grant perfectly. “I tried to be less noisy last night,” I say. He laughs. Maybe the biggest laugh I’ve heard from him yet. “Oh god, was I that loud again?”

  “I think I now know the lyrics from half the Hamilton songs.”

  “Sorry,” I cringe. “At least you were learning history at the same time.”

  “Exactly, I’d been wanting to brush up on the rules for duels.”

  “I’m just heading out for coffee. Do you wanna come with?”

  He smiles. “A pre-date?”

  “Sure, we can call it that.”

  “Have you been to Bela’s Bakery yet? They have coffee, but also these amazing ham croissants.”

  “Lead the way,” I say.

  We turn right on Virgin Street, passing a tattoo parlor, before taking a left on Main.

  “Do you have any tattoos?” I ask.

  He nods. “Yeah, you?”

  I laugh. “That’s all you’re saying? Where is it?”

  “You didn’t answer my question,” he says, giving me a half-grin that has me wishing I’d at least washed my face this morning.

  “I don’t have any,” I admit.

  “Really?” He looks surprised.

  “I may be a little extra, but it seems like a massive commitment.”

  “You scared of commitments?” he asks, studying me as we stop in front of the bakery.

  “Maybe?” I swallow, wondering how we got to such shaky ground so fast. I spent my whole life running when anyone got too close to me… daddy issues with a capital Get Over It. “I mean, I’ve never had a serious relationship.”

  “Never ever?”

  “Never ever. Why do you seem so shoc
ked? Have you been married or something?”

  He shakes his head. “No, but I’m surprised. I’d think you’d have lots of boyfriends.”

  “I’ve had boyfriends,” I say defensively. “Just not super serious ones…”

  “I didn’t mean to offend you,” he says, leashing his beagle to a tree. Then he pulls open the door for me.

  “I’m not offended,” I say, stepping inside the sugary sweet shop. Everything looks divine, stacks of croissants and rows of bread and baguettes. There’s a fancy copper espresso machine on the counter and upbeat music on in the background.

  We place our orders, and Grant pays and we stand at a high table, waiting for our coffees. I break off a piece of the melt-in-your-mouth pastry, groaning in delight. “Wow, this place is incredible. I feel like I’m in Paris.”

  “Have you been?” he asks.

  I nod. “In college I did a semester abroad. What about you?”

  “Yeah, my dad and I were obsessed with the Tour de France growing up. We went together for his fiftieth birthday, my sixteenth.”

  “That’s so awesome,” I say. “Do you bike?”

  He shakes his head. “No, I was never an athlete. I like my cars too much. But it was something we had in common. You close with your dad?”

  My mouth is dry, and I shove another piece of croissant in to avoid his question. Our drinks are ready and I go to the counter, grabbing both of ours. We leave the bakery, and he takes Otis before I hand him his coffee.

  “Okay, so I feel like I said the wrong thing twice,” Grant says. “The relationship thing, and then mentioning your dad, I feel like I’m fucking this pre-date up.”

  My lips twist as I consider his forthright nature. It’s so freaking attractive. Grant is not a man who plays games. It’s just one more reason he’s too good to be true.

  “You didn’t mess up anything, Grant. Sorry, my dad has always been MIA – and it’s ancient history so I don’t know why I was being weird about it. I think I’m just a little foggy before I’ve had my coffee.”