That Swoony Feeling

by Quinn, Meghan

  “From what I can recall, it’s been a while for me too, but cock is used heavily in the bedroom.” And just like that, she puts me at ease. Look at that, little Ruthie Snow Roast making me feel okay about my slight slip-up.

  “Well, this has been a productive ten minutes,” I say, shoving the rest of the coffee cake in my mouth. Speaking over the cakey goodness I say, “Should we get to work?”

  “I’ve already put in two hours.”

  “Then should I get to work?” I ask, brushing my hands off.

  “The hole won’t fix itself,” she says with a teasing lilt.

  And I can’t help it, I stare at her longer than I probably should, but . . . there’s something definitely different about her. I want to say confidence, but then again, she doesn’t hide her fidgeting or the waver in her voice very well, so I’m not sure. Whatever it is, I like it. It’s like something has woken up inside of her. I’m so used to the shy girl behind the counter serving coffee that to see this side of Ruthie is surprising. Good surprising. I’ve always thought Ruth was sweet, the way she quietly interacts with her customers, picks up after others. Remembers the way you like your coffee. But today, she’s been downright fun. Naughty.

  Whereas Griffin and Rogan live on the more serious side of life, Reid and I have always taken it upon ourselves to be the jokesters, the instigators, and I like to surround myself with people like that. Looks like I’ve found a new friend, because this Ruth is fun. And I like not taking life too seriously.

  But to love furiously.

  “Do I have something on my face?” she asks.

  “Huh?” I blink a few times.

  “You were just staring at me. Is there something on my face?”

  “Oh, no.” I awkwardly laugh. “Sorry, I was just thinking.”

  “Thinking about what?”

  “You,” I answer honestly, causing her cheeks to redden even more. “You’re different today. Just a little surprised.”

  “Oh . . .” She looks away.

  “Not in a bad way,” I say quickly, not wanting her to feel like I’m picking on her.

  “But different.”

  “Yeah, you’re more . . . lively.”

  “Didn’t realize I was dead.” She smirks and hell, it excites me. “I’ll be sure to be breathe heavier when you’re around.”

  “A solid in through the nose out through the mouth would be appreciated.”

  “I’ll work on it.” She steps away from the counter and says, “Do you have materials you need help carrying in here?”

  “I can handle it.”

  “I would say I trust you to bring in sheetrock by yourself but after what happened yesterday, I think I should help you.”

  “Are you saying you don’t trust me?”

  “I’m saying you might be a little clumsy, and if I ever want to get these renovations done, you might have to be supervised.”

  She walks toward the door and I follow behind her. “You know, that’s something my brothers would say. Have you been hanging out with them?”

  “No.” She shakes her head. “But then again, your penchant for being clumsy isn’t a secret here in Port Snow. You’ve spilled your fair share of coffees at Snow Roast.”

  “Keeping track, Ruthie?” I ask, holding the door open for her.

  “Yeah, of how many mugs you’ve broken over the years.”

  “What’s the tally?” We walk over to my tow truck where I have the sheetrock strapped down.

  “Eleven.”

  I pause. “Bullshit. There is no way I’ve broken eleven of your mugs. I’d remember that.”

  “I took pictures of every single one of them. Want the proof?”

  No, she didn’t.

  Did she?

  I keep my gaze fixed on her, challenging her, studying her eyes, trying to make her squirm, but instead of looking away like she normally does, she stays connected with me.

  And in this moment, I feel something stir, something I wasn’t expecting. I can’t quite pinpoint exactly what it is, but just like Ruth today, it’s different.

  Adjusting the collar of my shirt, I ask, “Do you really have proof?”

  She slowly nods. “Uh-huh. I haven’t added it to your tab yet, but one more hole through my wall and I very well might.”

  “Ooof. Brutal, Ruthie,” I say.

  “Hey, I didn’t say I was going to add them just yet, just a warning. Your new work neighbor means business.”

  That she does.

  * * *

  “What do you think?” I ask, waiting patiently for my brother’s approval.

  “Did you . . .” Reid smacks his lips together. “Did you put salt in this?”

  “Yes, can you taste it?”

  “Oh yeah.” Reid, the chef of the family, pushes the bowl of homemade spaghetti sauce away. “Dude, I think you just blew my palate.”

  “Oh come on, Reid,” Eve, his girlfriend and long-time friend says. “It’s not . . . ooo wow, that’s salty.” Her lips pucker, and she pushes the bowl away as well. “I’m sorry, Brig, but that’s, wow. That’s just a bowl of salt.”

  “How much did you put in?” Reid asks, gulping down some milk.

  “Half a cup.” I wince.

  “Half a cup?” Reid’s eyes nearly pop out of his sockets. “What recipe were you following?”

  “Dad’s famous sauce recipe. I think I wrote down the ingredients wrong.”

  “Uh, you definitely did. Jesus, Brig. Don’t feed that to anyone else.”

  “It’s not that bad, is it?” I ask, dipping my finger in the bowl and taking a taste. A wave of salt hits me, and I want to die a slow death of too much sodium intake. “Fuck, that was made to poison enemies.”

  Reid chuckles. “Yeah, know anyone you want to wreak vengeance on? Leave that at their doorstep.”

  Wooden spoon in hand, I tap my chin and give it a good thought. “Walter. Walter needs to be taught a lesson on who he should catfish.”

  “You can’t give that to him,” Eve says, looking horrified as she stares at the sauce. “Walter is really old; one taste of that and he might keel over. You don’t want death by sodium on your hands. I know you, Brig, and that’s not something you’ll ever be able to get over.”

  “That’s true. Damn it.” I slap the table with the spoon. “I’ll have to come up with something else to get him back.” I take a seat at my dining room table with them and say, “How much salt should I have put in?”

  “A pinch here and there,” Reid says. “According to taste. I mean . . . did you even test this before you fed it to us?”

  “No, I was too nervous. I wanted it to be perfect.”

  Reid grips his head and leans back, sighing. “Dude, you need to taste test your food. Might help you avoid serving swill like this.”

  “Hey now.” My brow pulls together. “This isn’t swill, it’s just—”

  “Meant for the salty deep,” Eve says, in a pirate accent that makes both Reid and me laugh out loud.

  “I guess so.” I look at the sauce and say, “Should I order pizza?”

  “That would be best.”

  While grabbing my phone and putting in an order on our town’s pizzeria app, I say, “Have either of you spent much time with Ruth?”

  “Ruth from Snow Roast?” Reid asks.

  “Yeah.”

  “I have,” Eve says. “Why?” A cheerful smile crosses her lips. “Do you like her?”

  “What? No.” I shake my head, the thought never crossing my mind. “I mean, we’re work neighbors. And I’ve been helping her out with renovations for her new business.”

  “Uh-huh,” Reid says crossing his arms over his chest.

  “What?” I look between the two of them. “That’s it. Don’t make it into anything it isn’t. Plus, I have a secret pen pal who’s sweeping me off my feet. Remember?”

  “Then why ask if we know her?” Eve says, mirroring my brother’s skeptical look.

  “Because I helped fix a hole in her wall today and f
rankly, the entire time I was there, it felt like I was in some alternate dimension. She was so . . . different.”

  “Different how?” Reid asks.

  “Outgoing, teasing, funny, witty. She gave me shit, and I honestly didn’t think she had a sarcastic bone in her body.”

  “What?” Eve asks. “Brig, she has such a quick wit. You never see her one-liners coming. Knocks you off your feet with her zingers. She’s so funny.”

  “Yes, exactly. Where did that come from?”

  “She’s always been like that,” Eve says. “We went to the same school. Surely you remember her?”

  Apparently not.

  “She hasn’t always been like that. She’s quiet and hides behind the counter of the coffee shop most of the time. I swear I never see her around town just having fun,” I say.

  “Because she’s been putting in a million hours at Snow Roast. She hasn’t hired many extra hands until recently to help her. She hasn’t had a life, just works constantly. And yeah, maybe she’s been quiet behind the counter because whenever you go into Snow Roast, it’s bustling and she probably doesn’t have a second to think about anything else but people’s orders. But she’s funny. Really funny,”

  Eve says.

  “Huh.”

  I think over the day, drawing on the way her lips curved up ever so slightly during our conversations.

  The way she gave me sass without a blink of an eye.

  The comebacks that kept me on my toes.

  The ribbing my brothers usually give me.

  It was so . . . I glance at Eve and Reid and they’re both staring at me, huge smiles on their faces.

  “What?”

  “Nothing,” Reid says, shifting in his chair just as there is a knock on the door.

  “That’s not a nothing face,” I say, standing and walking to the door. “There’s meaning behind it. Heavy meaning.”

  Not expecting the pizza to be that quick, I’m surprised to open the door and find a package on the welcome mat.

  It’s from her . . .

  I swipe the package off the ground, slam the door, and like a bouncing ball of glee, I bound toward the table and set the package down with excitement. I’m ready to burst into a million heart-eye emojis.

  “It’s from my pen pal,” I say, grabbing a box-cutter from my junk drawer, skipping through my apartment.

  “Do you know who it is yet?” Eve asks.

  “Not a clue. Mrs. Davenport had applications from Port Snow and some surrounding towns.” I tear open the box and find a letter on top just like the package I sent. I flash the letter to Eve and Reid and say, “Doesn’t she have amazing handwriting? And look.” I point to the lips at the bottom. “She kisses the letter.”

  “When you’re alone, do you kiss the letter too? Pretend you’re making out with her?” Reid, the sarcastic asshole asks.

  “No . . . but I will now,” I answer.

  But not really. I might be desperate for love, but I have some standards.

  Maybe I’ll just rub the lips on my cheek, that’s less creepy.

  “Read it out loud,” Eve says, leaning on the table now.

  Clearing my throat, I stare at the letter and start reading. “Dear Secret Pen Pal, I don’t know how to possibly thank you for the gift you sent me. It meant the world to me, more than you will probably ever know.”

  “What did you send her?” Reid asks.

  “You know those wooden signs Mom and Dad used to sell at the Landing? I have a few here because I like them so much. I sent her one of the harbor, explaining how it and Port Snow are important to me.”

  “One of the wooden signs?” Reid asks, confused.

  “Yeah.” I point to my living room where I have two hanging side by side. One of The Lobster Landing and one of our family home that our mom commissioned. “Those.”

  Reid swivels around to take a look. “You mean the signs Ruth’s dad used to make?”

  “Oh yeah, I guess it was Ruth’s dad. I forgot who it was exactly, just knew he was a local guy here. Weird, huh?”

  “Yeah . . . weird,” Eve says slyly. “Please continue with the letter.”

  “I will cherish this gift and make sure it hangs someplace where I can always see it. As for Port Snow, it’s beautiful, one of my favorite places of all time. The feel, the smell of fudge coming from The Lobster Landing, the gossipy townspeople always eying the tourists and pointing them out. The town is unique and the views are breathtaking. I know why you love it so much.” I lift my head and say, “Does that mean she’s from Port Snow?”

  “Not necessarily,” Reid says.

  “I don’t know, she seems to know about the tourist situation,” Eve says, still with a smirk.

  “Everyone knows about the tourists in Port Snow,” Reid counters. “That’s no surprise.”

  “Are you being rude to me, Reid Knightly?” Eve asks with a glint in her eye.

  Features turning soft, I watch my brother lean in and press a kiss to Eve’s cheek while cupping the other. “Never, babe.”

  Ugh, sickening.

  Also . . . sweet.

  I’m disgustingly jealous, damn it, which leads me back to the letter.

  “Can I read the rest of my letter, please? Without you two interrupting to make out?”

  “We weren’t making out, but if you want us to, we can.” Reid turns toward Eve, mouth open, but she pushes him away and looks over Reid’s shoulder.

  “Finish the letter. I want to know what’s inside the box.”

  Me too.

  “As for me, I love my town, but I also have an overall love of Maine. When I was young, my parents took me on road trips all around the state. We stayed in small cabins, played cards, and enjoyed the local cuisine and local food. One of my favorite places we visited was Damariscotta. We rented a cabin right next to the Damariscotta River, and we spent our time fishing and enjoying a true Maine summer with whoopie pies every night.”

  “Love whoopie pies,” Eve says.

  “Me too,” I reply and turn the letter over. There’s nothing else written so I part the tissue paper and find another letter. When I pull it out of the box, I spot a clear Tupperware container and inside are four whoopie pies. “Oh fuck, there are whoopie pies in here.” I pull them out and open the lid. The smell of chocolate and cream ascends into the air, giving me a sense of comfort.

  “Those look fucking good,” Reid says, scooting closer to the table now.

  “What does the letter say?” Eve asks, as she ogles the whoopie pies.

  I unfold the letter and immediately see her lips at the bottom. That small gesture does so much to my insides that I take a second before I read. “I couldn’t get to Damariscotta for whoopie pies, so I went with the next best option. I made some. Don’t worry, I didn’t poison them. I feel like that’s something that needs to be stated. I love putting peanut butter cream in the middle, but decided to go the original route with you. I hope you enjoy them. Maybe one day we can share one in person. Until then, think about me when you eat them. Sincerely, Your Secret Pen Pal.”

  “Adorable,” Eve says as I slowly set the letter down. “How do you feel about it?”

  I sit back in my chair and stare at the container of whoopie pies and the letter, her red lipstick sizzling straight to my heart, causing it to beat faster, heavier.

  “I feel . . . romanced,” I answer on a dreamy sigh.

  “Oh my God, you’re the cutest.” Eve swats Reid’s arm. “Why can’t you be more like your brother?”

  “I romance you,” Reid says. “Do you not remember how I won you back?”

  “I don’t think anyone can forget that,” Eve says, and I think back to that day and everything that went horribly wrong, but also so very right. “But look at him, he’s giddy.”

  I shrug. “Just chasing that swoony feeling. Sick of being the bridesmaid . . . I want to be the bride.”

  “I think that’s how you should start your next letter to your pen pal,” Reid cuts in. “See if she’s
willing to share bride role with you.” Such a smart-ass, cocky tone.

  “You know what I mean. I can’t remember the last time I was in a serious relationship. All I want is to love someone, spoil them, make them mine. I want to start a family, move out of the apartment above my garage, and buy a house in the woods somewhere where my kids can have the kind of childhood we had. And this”—I point to the whoopie pies and letter—“this might be it. This might be how I finally find love. This girl, my pen pal.” A girl who makes me whoopie pies as a thank you. Who believes Port Snow is breathtaking.

  “You can buy the house now. We all know you’re loaded,” Reid says with a laugh.

  Not loaded, just . . . you know, well-off. Port Snow needed an auto mechanic, so I studied, saved, and purchased, but I also tapped into the tourist market as well. Found my niche. The time and money has paid off.

  “I want to buy the house with my girl. I want it to be a joint decision.” Staring off into my apartment, I say, “I want to hold her hand while walking across creaky wooden floors we would repair and talk about what furniture we could see in certain places. I want to experience my first house purchase with someone, not by myself.”

  “You’re only twenty-five, Brig,” Eve says. “You have plenty of time to find the right person for you. Stop putting all this pressure on yourself.”

  “I know.” I blow out a heavy breath. “It’s painful though, watching my siblings all start their lives and head into that next phase of marriage and babies. I’ve been the one trailing behind my entire life and was hoping I’d have a solid girl by now. I don’t know, is there something wrong with me?”

  “Is that a rhetorical question, because I can list—oof.” Eve swats at Reid’s stomach and then addresses me with sweet compassion.

  “There is nothing wrong with you, Brig. Finding someone to spend your life with in a small town is hard, especially a tourist town. Hang in there, I have a good feeling about this secret pen pal of yours.”

  “Yeah?”

  She smiles and nods. “Definitely.”

  Chapter Eight

  RUTH

  “You are totally Brig’s secret pen pal, aren’t you?” Eve says, coming up to Snow Roast’s counter and resting her palms on the coffee-stained wood.