Beautifully Broken Life (The Sutter Lake Series Book 2)

by Catherine Cowles

  Tessa visibly swallowed. “It’s okay, I just didn’t hear you.” Her eyes traveled the expanse of the street, and her body, strung tight, seemed to relax a fraction when she spotted a couple walking down the sidewalk.

  “I guess those ninja skills I’ve been working on have a downside.”

  A small smile tipped the corners of her lips up, but it seemed forced. She said nothing.

  I grappled to fill the silence. “I was just walking to find some dinner and saw you sitting here. I wanted to apologize for the other day. I don’t make a habit of crashing into beautiful women if I can avoid it.”

  The words beautiful women made the small smile and the ease of her muscles disappear. She stood, gathering up her tools. “It’s really fine. No big deal.” Her words were cool. While the language was casual, the tone was forced formality.

  I couldn’t explain why, but I didn’t want her to leave. “So, what are you working on?”

  Tessa’s eyes narrowed and searched my face as if looking for ulterior motives. “Nothing.” She opened a tin and placed the broken piece of what looked like charcoal inside.

  I was running out of time. “Didn’t look like nothing.”

  She shoved the tin and her notebook into a bag. “Just messing around.” She slung the bag over her shoulder. “I really need to be going. Have a good night.” She turned and headed inside, locking the door behind her.

  Why did “have a good night” feel like she actually meant, “stay the hell away?”

  5

  Tessa

  “Shit.” I couldn’t help the uttered curse as the cookie hit the floor. I had been fumbling and bumbling all morning, my run-in with Liam last night playing over and over in my head. I wasn’t used to attention, especially of the male variety.

  In fact, I did everything I could think of to avoid it. I wore no makeup. I bought clothes that were a size too big so nothing clung to my curves. I avoided eye contact at all costs. But there Liam had come, literally slamming into my life.

  I picked the ruined cookie off the floor and tossed it into the trash. I was making a big deal out of nothing. Liam was simply a nice guy. He felt bad for knocking into me. And I’m sure my over-the-top reaction to the encounter had made him feel even worse. Guilt churned in my gut. I hadn’t made him feel any better with my response last night.

  Shit. But there was something about Liam. He seemed to study me in a way that saw too much and connected dots I didn’t want anyone to connect.

  I pushed down worries of someone discovering my past. Not just the fear of someone knowing who I was, but the fear of the shame that would come with it. Shame for putting up with how Garrett had treated me for so long. Shame for not trying to get out while I still could. Shame for wanting nothing more than for him to love me—for anyone to love me.

  I leaned back against the counter, hot tears pricking at my eyes. I wasn’t that naïve, desperate girl anymore. I was strong. I had fought back in the only way I could. I’d run. I was making my way on my own. I wasn’t Valerie anymore. I was Tessa.

  Tessa. My mother’s middle name. I had hoped that by claiming it as my own, I would also claim some of her strength. Even though she’d barely turned twenty, she had stood up to her conservative parents, refusing to abort me or give me up for adoption. They’d cut all ties with her and, in turn, with me. Not even after she’d died in childbirth did they reconsider. So, into the foster system I’d gone.

  I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, trying to summon some of that strength I knew had to run through my veins, a gift she’d given me, even if she wasn’t here to see it. I let out the air and opened my eyes again. I felt calmer, more centered.

  I returned to the task in front of me. Slowly and carefully, I transferred the remaining sugar cookies from the baking sheet to the cooling rack. No more mishaps.

  Jensen’s voice rang out as she moved towards the kitchen. “Hey, Tessa. Can you man the register for a few while I meet with this supplier?”

  I tightened my grip on the spatula in my hand. Manning the register was not one of my favorite parts of the job. Jensen knew this. I never said anything, but within a few months of me working here, she’d offered for my duties to be focused in the kitchen. I remembered the wave of relief I’d felt when she asked if I’d prefer that. I’d gotten better, though. The fear of Garrett walking through the doors lessened with each day.

  Jensen gave my arm a gentle squeeze. “I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be right there.” She pointed to the table that sat just to the side of the front door and in full view of the register.

  I licked my lips. “No problem.” It wasn’t a total lie. And Jensen had been beyond accommodating with my neuroses.

  She gave my arm another gentle squeeze. “Thanks, you’re the best.”

  I wiped my hands on a towel and followed her out into the main room. Jensen took a seat across from a middle-aged gentleman with a computer and got to work discussing orders. The place was fairly quiet. We had passed the pre-work rush and were now in the mid-morning lull. A young mother sat at one table, sipping her tea while cooing at the baby in a car seat resting on the chair next to her. A guy who looked to be college-aged was bent over a textbook, highlighting furiously.

  A small smile pulled at my lips. I loved this town. This shop. This life I was building. It was quiet, peaceful. Mine.

  My gaze caught on two figures in the window. It took me a second to recognize Taylor and Walker. He had her wrapped in his arms, his lips pressed to her forehead. When Walker pulled back, Taylor stretched up on her tiptoes and brushed her mouth against his. Walker looked down at her with nothing less than devotion filling his expression.

  A sharp pang pierced my chest. How long had it been since someone had held me? Touched me with love and affection that wasn’t followed by a fist? A foreign longing swept through me, fierce and strong. Keeping the world at arm’s length had meant I’d escaped any possibility of a fist, but I was missing out on the chance for comfort and connection, too.

  Lonely is better than dead. I repeated the mantra over and over in my head as I squeezed my eyes closed.

  The bell over the door sounded, and my eyes flew open to see Taylor walking in. “Hey,” I greeted, my voice just slightly rough.

  She waved at Jensen but kept walking towards me. “Hey, girl. How are you?”

  The smile on Taylor’s face was one of true happiness. I loved seeing the light that now shone in her eyes. Eyes that used to be so dull with grief were now so freaking bright. That phantom pressure in my chest flared.

  I shook my head, coming back to the present moment. “I’m good. How about you?”

  “I’m doing great. Just got word that I got my teaching accreditation in Oregon. I’ll be able to start teaching in the fall. Now, I just need to find a job.”

  “That’s great news. I’m sure the Sutter Lake schools will be happy to have you.”

  Taylor let out a light laugh. “Let’s hope so because I’m so ready to get back to it.”

  “They will.” I glanced at the bakery case. “So, what’ll it be today?”

  Taylor’s gaze traveled to the case. “Oooooh, yay, you have more of those spinach and feta scones. I’ll take one of those and a lemongrass tea, please.”

  I pulled a scone from the case and set it on a plate. “I’ll get that tea right up.”

  Taylor handed me a ten-dollar bill. “Thank you. Just put the change in the tip jar.”

  I shook my head. It was way too big of a tip, but I knew arguing with her would do me no good. I made quick work of brewing her tea, bringing the cup and a small pitcher of milk to her table.

  Taylor beamed up at me. “Thank you.”

  “Of course.”

  The bell over the door sounded again. This time, my gaze landed on a large man. I fought the urge to step back. Swallowing, I rounded the counter, my gaze never leaving the customer.

  I wiped my hands down my jeans as the man studied the café. His eyes traveled over the different
patrons, the bakery case, and the menu above my head before finally landing on me. His smile was wide. “How can anyone decide what to order when everything looks so good?”

  I forced myself to return his grin. “I can recommend something if you tell me what you typically like.”

  The man rubbed his stomach. “Well, I’m not much of a tea drinker, but I heard you have some of the best baked goods in town.”

  A sense of pride washed through me. “I think they’re pretty tasty. The marionberry muffins are a favorite. Or, if you’re looking for something savory, the ham and cheddar scone.”

  He studied my face. “Do you make these yourself?”

  I toyed with the strings of my apron. “I do.”

  “Well, I’ll just have to take one of each then.”

  I nodded. “Would you like them for here or to go?”

  “I’ll eat here, thanks. No point in taking them back to my hotel room when this place is so welcoming.” I nodded again, grabbing a plate for the items. The man continued. “I’m Al Burke, here from Portland.”

  I gripped the plate I was holding a little tighter and studied him. He was dressed in tourist get-up. A fly-fishing vest, outdoor-type pants, and boots. But everything about the outfit seemed…wrong. The items were too new and didn’t match the aura the man was giving off. He could be having a mid-life crisis and trying something new, but I had learned the hard way to listen to that little voice in the back of my mind that urged me to be cautious. “Well, I hope you’re enjoying your stay.”

  Al chuckled. “I am, I am. And what’s your name, little lady?”

  This was one of the other reasons I didn’t like working the register. People could come up and ask you anything, and they would consider you rude if you didn’t answer.

  I hit a few keys on the register. “Tessa. That’ll be six dollars and fifty cents.”

  Al removed his wallet and handed me a ten-dollar bill. “Nice to meet you, Tessa. You grow up around here?”

  My spine straightened as I gripped the drawer of the register. “No.” I didn’t meet his eyes as I pulled his change from the drawer.

  He chuckled again. It grated against my ears. “Not much of a talker, are you?”

  I handed him his three dollars and fifty cents. “I guess not.”

  Al opened his mouth to say something else but stopped when an arm encircled my shoulders.

  “I can take it from here. Why don’t you head on back to the kitchen?”

  I wanted to sag in Jensen’s hold. Instead, I simply said, “Okay,” and forced myself to take one more look at the guy. To study his face so that if I ever saw it again, I would know that something was amiss. Al met my studied gaze with one of his own. A look that made a shiver go down my spine.

  I broke the stare first, turning to retreat to the safety of the kitchen. I rounded the corner to the fridge and rested my head against the cool metal. Polite tourist or one of Garrett’s lackeys?

  The question circled on an endless loop in my brain. I hated that I felt like I couldn’t trust my own perception of things. Couldn’t tell if I was being paranoid or cautious. I ran through the exchange in my head. I compared it with conversations I heard Jensen have every day at the counter. Not one thing the man had said was something I hadn’t heard before.

  My shoulders slumped. I guess paranoia it was. I fought the urge to pound my forehead against the fridge. I didn’t want to be like this. I just didn’t know how to find a balance that would allow me to keep my guard up but also let others in.

  Safe and lonely is better than dead, I reminded myself. But for the first time, it hit me how truly depressing my life’s motto was.

  6

  Liam

  I tightened my grip on the items in my hand, ignoring the voice in my head telling me I was an idiot. I was simply trying to make amends. And, yes, maybe it was partly because the two times I’d encountered Tessa were the only moments in recent memory I’d had even the faintest flicker of the musical muse that used to flow so freely. I was desperate to have it back. And Tessa…she was a song in the making.

  I readjusted my ballcap as I strode up the walkway to The Tea Kettle. Hopefully, she was working. Pushing open the door, I inhaled deeply and almost moaned. My stomach growled.

  Jensen looked up from the counter at the sound of the bell. “Back so soon? Our baked goods must have made you a convert.”

  I patted my stomach. “I couldn’t stay away.” I scanned the small café. There were a couple of older gentlemen playing cards in the corner and a woman with a small child on the opposite side of the space. I could most likely go unnoticed here for a little while at least. “Do you mind if I hang out here and work for a bit? The silence at the cabin was getting to be a little much.”

  “As long as you make a purchase or two, you can stay as long as you’d like. Though I should warn you, we get an influx of teenage girls around three-thirty.”

  “Thanks for the heads-up.” I’d get gone by then. I moved towards the bakery case. “And I don’t think I’ll have any problem with the purchases.” I tapped the fingers of my free hand against the glass case. “Let’s start out with a ham and cheddar scone, a marionberry muffin, and one of those peanut butter cookies.”

  Jensen let out a choked laugh. “Start out with?”

  I shrugged. “I’m sure I’ll be hungry again in another hour or so.”

  Jensen continued to chuckle as she pulled the items from the case. “You’re my new favorite customer. Can I get you any tea to go with that?”

  I grimaced. “How about a bottle of water?”

  Jensen set the plate of baked goods on the counter. “Don’t knock it till you try it.”

  “Maybe another time,” I hedged, pulling my wallet from my pocket.

  “I’ll hold you to that.” She punched a few keys on the register. “That’ll be $12.50.”

  My gaze caught on movement in the back kitchen. A figure with a dark brown braid down her back reached up on her tiptoes to grab something off a shelf. Tessa was all long, lean lines, and she was focused in her practiced rhythm, a dance around the space that she knew by heart.

  A throat cleared, and my gaze jumped back to Jensen. “Sorry, what’d you say?”

  Her eyes narrowed slightly on me, the look somewhere in between curiosity and a warning. “That’ll be $12.50.”

  I pulled out a twenty. “Keep the change.”

  “Thanks.”

  Taking the plate and bottle of water, I surveyed my table options. I opted for one that gave me a line of sight into the kitchen but not the one that was directly in front of it—not overly obvious. I set everything down on the weathered wooden surface. I pushed my snacks to one side and the water to the other, making room for my worn and battered notebook.

  This thing had been through battles with me, including being thrown against a wall or two lately. It housed songs from more than two albums and dozens of tunes that hadn’t made the cut. As well as some random thoughts that might turn into lyrics, single lines that needed to find a home, and some really crappy doodles.

  I opened to a blank page. The emptiness of it seemed to mock me. I ignored the insult and glanced towards the kitchen. Tessa was removing what looked like cookies from a baking sheet and placing them on a cooling rack. What is her story?

  I glanced down at the tin of drawing charcoal I’d made a special trip into the nearest city to get. Tessa snapping the piece she’d held in her hand flashed in my mind. I’d scared her. That kind of thing happened. Anyone could be startled under the right circumstances. But something told me there was more at play here.

  I let my mind drift as I watched her move about the kitchen. Words flew through my brain. Just single pieces of text at first, and then slightly longer strings. I jotted everything down, not allowing myself to judge it, just letting the words fly. When I looked up again, my muse was offering Jensen a plate.

  Jensen studied the assortment of baked goods. “Why don’t you let Liam and the bridge club play
taste-testers?” she asked, inclining her head towards me and the older gentlemen sitting behind me.

  Tessa stiffened at the request, her gaze flicking to me and then back to Jensen. “Sure.”

  Clearly, I had fucked up with this girl. I really hoped I could make things right, and not just because she seemed to be my last hope of reclaiming my musical muse. I gave Tessa my best I-really-am-a-nice-guy-even-though-I’ve-scared-the-shit-out-of-you-twice smile, or what I thought that smile should look like.

  Tessa made her way towards me and extended the plate. “I’m trying a few new cookie recipes. Would you like to try them and tell me what you like best?”

  I flipped my notebook closed. “There’s not one job I’d be more excited about or better qualified for.” A hint of a smile ghosted Tessa’s lips. Progress. “Tell me what we’ve got here.”

  She pointed to bite-sized pieces of cookie as she spoke. “Hot chocolate, potato chip chocolate chip, maple glazed apple crisp, and key lime.”

  My brows rose as she made her way down the list. “Impressive. I can get behind just about anything on that list except for the potato chip one. Potato chips are for sandwiches, not sweets.”

  Tessa let out a soft laugh. It was just the tease of a sound, but I longed to hear the full thing. “You’ll have to agree to try them all if you want to be a taste-tester. I can’t have an uninformed voter.”

  “Fair enough. I guess I can suffer through one potato chip cookie if the future of The Tea Kettle’s menu rests in my hands.”

  Tessa pressed her lips together, stifling another laugh. I hated that motion, I was so desperate to hear the sound. “You’re so very selfless.”

  “That’s me.” I reached out, opting for the apple crisp first. Heaven in food form. I slowly made my way around the plate, careful to take my time with each bite. I saved the potato chip cookie for last, grimacing as I lifted it to my mouth. I chewed slowly. My eyes flared.