I shrug nonchalantly again. “The boss won’t care. Besides, I haven’t had breakfast yet.”
“So?”
“So you’re trying to write a sweet romance, right?”
“Yesss . . .”
“You’ve got a whole town full of sweet romance inspiration right at your fingertips. Let’s get some breakfast and see where your ideas take you.”
The slow grin that crosses her face is a new look for me. Suddenly, doing Aggi’s dirty work doesn’t seem like such a hardship after all.
Chapter 13
Donna
When Todd suggested we go into town to explore and allow me to find inspiration, I was equally excited and nervous. Excited because I want to be inspired. I want, no need, to get outside of my head and my normal creative process if I’m going to really put my best foot forward with this sweet romance. The nerves were a product of him. More specifically, his sometimes lack of filter, random Christmas shirt, and perhaps not so accidental slip of his Hawk Weaver voice.
Excitement overshadowed the nervousness, though, and I quickly retreated to my room to grab gloves, a scarf, my winter coat, and snow boots. I bought these babies specifically for this trip. The fashionista in me is excited to finally show them off.
And now I’m overheating like someone put a heating pad under my ass. Todd, on the other hand, is sitting comfortably in his Christmas balls shirt and jeans. He doesn’t even have on snow boots, just some hiking looking boots.
We sit in comfortable silence as we drive down the mountain, and I’m grateful I couldn’t see much last night. The road isn’t dangerous per se but if I allow myself the opportunity, my overactive imagination will have us plummeting to our death. I don’t need that thought in my head. Ever.
Instead, I look at the beautiful snow-capped trees. Pulling my cell phone from my purse, I snap a few pictures that should help me with descriptions later in my story.
Fanning myself with my hand, I let out a breath, the coolness a brief blessing to the heat my skin is projecting.
“You should dump that jacket. It isn’t too cold out and most places will have the heat on. You’ll just end up carrying it the entire time.”
Looking from the outside where everything is covered in snow to Todd and back again, I say, “It’s freezing out. How can you suggest it’s not cold?”
Shrugging he responds, “It’s cold enough to snow but really after a few minutes I doubt you’ll notice it. Your sweater is pretty thick, and you have on your boots, so your feet won’t get wet.”
As he turns into a parking space in front of a small café, I contemplate his suggestion. And immediately dismiss it. He can’t possibly think I won’t freeze. The temperature drops to eighty at home and I put on a sweater.
I open my door and meet Todd on the sidewalk. The cold air is a welcome greeting as it helps regulate me from the internal temperature I had in the car. I briefly wonder if that’s a small snippet of what menopause is going to be like someday. That’s going to suck.
“How about a little grub before we explore? This place has the absolute best biscuits and gravy.”
“Sounds great. I’m starving.” I am starving but, in my head, begin calculating how much exercise I’ll have to do, or how much wine and cheese I’ll have to sacrifice, if I were to indulge in the biscuits and gravy. Too much but damn it sounds good
Todd opens the door to the café and a bell chimes as I step into the inviting space. Booths line the far wall with tables for two filling the rest of the space. This place can’t possibly seat more than forty people but it’s absolutely perfect. My senses are in overload as I inhale the aromas of maple syrup, bacon, and coffee. Agreeing with the great smells filling the space, my stomach grumbles its appreciation.
“Was that you?” Todd asks.
“Just get us a table,” I retort. My tone is teasing but I’m also slightly embarrassed.
“Let’s take that table by the window. That way you can people watch and really start your recon.”
“Recon?” I bark out in a laugh as I walk toward the table he suggested.
Stripping off the heater also known as my coat, I hang it off the back of my chair and sit down, flipping the coffee cup sitting on the table over to indicate my desire and absolute need for caffeine. The décor of the café is simple and homey; deep burgundies and floral patterns adorn each table cloth while a single bud vase sits nestled between the salt and pepper and sweetener.
“Yeah, recon for your book. You’ll get a good vantage point of the people walking up and down the streets. You’ll also see most aren’t wearing a big down coat either.”
“Are you going to tease me about my coat the entire day?” I ask, crossing my arms over my chest.
“Nah,” he says mimicking my stance only raising a brow instead of pursing his lips. I try, and fail, to keep a stern look in response. “Just a couple more hours.”
“Good morning. Coffee?” the waitress asks as she pours our coffee.
“Morning, Lisa. How’s it going?”
“Well Todd, it’s going about the same as it was yesterday when you came in. My kid is still a little shit, my husband was up early plowing, and you’re still not willing to date my cousin.”
The sarcasm dripping from the waitress makes me giggle. I love that Todd takes her jabs in stride even if he likely deserves them. Smirking as they continue bantering, I pour a little creamer into my cup and stir it when I feel Todd kick me under the table. Glancing up at him, I shrug and smile as he chuckles and shakes his head. I’m busted.
“But, considering this is your date today, I can’t say I blame you for not wanting to take Cindy out. Hi, I’m Lisa. I don’t think we’ve met.” I look at the hand extended to me and up at the woman introducing herself.
“Donna Moreno,” I say, shaking her hand. “Your place is fantastic.”
“Thanks, we like it. It’s been in my family for three generations. What brings you to town, Donna?”
Wow, she just gets right to it. No boundaries here.
“Oh, I’m staying at—”
“She’s friends with Aggi,” Todd says, cutting me off. Well, that was rude. “She’ll be staying at the cabin for a few days, but I wanted to show her around a bit. Give this city girl a little small-town experience.”
“That’s nice of you. If you needed a little small-town experience, you’ve come to the right spot. Of course, we have an influx of tourism right now with the recent storms. I heard the mountain got at least nine inches last night.”
“Nine inches you say?” Todd purrs in his Hawk Weaver voice.
Lisa and I look at each, exchanging dramatic eye rolls.
“And on that note, are you ready to order or need a minute?”
“I need more than a minute,” Todd mumbles to himself. I’m sure he’s trying to get a laugh out of us, but Lisa and I both ignore him.
I haven’t even opened the menu on the table to see what my options are, but before I can ask for more time, Todd orders for both of us. As Lisa walks away, he turns his attention to me and picks up his coffee cup. “What?” he asks when he notices the stunned expression on my face. “You’re on vacation and embracing small-town life. Let the food happen, Donna. Let it happen.”
My instinct is to argue. To tell him he shouldn’t have ordered for me. I shouldn’t indulge in the bacon, side of hash browns, and sausage gravy and biscuits he ordered. But I don’t. I don’t because dammit I’m starving, and it all sounds amazing.
“I’m not agreeing but,” I say with a dramatic sigh, “I’m conceding. Like pleading no contest or something.”
“Oh sweet, Donna. Whatever helps you sleep at night. Speaking of, we need get some marshmallows for the fire. I saw the way you were ogling those flames. I bet you’ve never indulged in a little creamy goodness in your mouth.”
Sputtering my coffee, I begin to choke. In only a few gasps for air, I see stars. Todd jumps from his seat and is slapping his open palm on my back in seconds. His react
ion turns my choking to laughter.
“Are you okay? I didn’t even think of what I was saying, the words just happened. We should blame Aggi and her damn books. I say the word ‘dick’ and ‘climax’ so much when I’m working, the innuendos are like second nature.”
“Todd, sit down and stop trying to kill the poor woman. Two short stacks, a large side of hash browns, and half a pig.” Lisa’s voice leaves no room for argument. She sets the plates, which are more like platters, of food on our table before promising to return with more coffee.
Eyeing me across the table, Todd tilts his head from side to side as I wipe the tears from my cheeks. It isn’t lost on me that with Todd around, his humor and laid-back attitude surrounding us both, I’m at ease. I’ve laughed, teased, and picked at him like he’s an old friend more than I have with anyone else in years. Relaxed and ready to see what he has in store for us, I stab my fork into a large sausage link and bring it to my mouth.
As my teeth sink into the deliciousness, I release a moan. I’m not sure if it’s the mountain air, the fact that I’m completely relaxed, or the man who is staring at me, mouth agape, but this is the best damn sausage of my life.
Two hours, a discarded coat, and a side cramp from laughing later, Todd and I are approaching the last store on First Avenue and our final stop of this “Donna gets to know small town USA” tour. Yes, last. Meaning, there have been multiple. As in all.
I thought at first, he would take me to a few shops, maybe grab a coffee somewhere while he told me stories of the town and its people. Show me a little inspiration so I can head back to the cabin and get some work done. He didn’t. Instead, he played tour guide extraordinaire and took me from store to store, introducing me to the people who make up this sleepy little town.
Everyone has been kind and welcoming, answering the random and rather strange questions Todd asked each of them. “Would you rather be a cougar or a moose?” “Do you think lights in the city are brighter than the moon?” “Do you say pop or soda?”
Nobody batted an eye. They accepted his randomness with the most gracious, if not confused, response. But it was the young woman in the small market who was clearly his biggest fan. Marcy offered him the brightest of smiles but the blush that dusted her cheeks when he asked her questions about the store and her position, told me she might have a little crush on my new friend. I watched as she lit up and spoke of the small business with gratitude and the owners with the utmost respect.
Watching Todd with her, the kindness and interest he exuded, I found myself wanting to know him more. Beyond his jokes and weird clothing choices, lies a man with a huge heart and love of people.
Like most of the shops on this street, a bell signals our arrival. Todd holds the door open, motioning for me to enter but instead, I pause and look up at him, my hand resting on his forearm.
“Thank you.”
“For?” he asks, brows furrowed.
“Thank you for taking the time with me today. I’m sure there were a million other places you could have been or things you’d rather be doing. I appreciate you showing me around and helping me understand small-town life.”
I do believe I’ve embarrassed him. A light blush appears on the apples of his cheeks and knowing he doesn’t realize how great he’s been makes me smile. Not saying another word, I step into Christmas 365 and am blown away.
Cheerful holiday music wafts from the speakers and the scent of cinnamon and pine fill the air. Trees of varying shapes and sizes are adorned in ornaments ranging from hand-painted balls to traditional snowmen and Santa hats. Nostalgia hits me in the face and I’m transported to simpler times. Times when life didn’t force me to run at a thousand miles an hour, survive on little to no sleep, and push myself to the point of exhaustion that I have nothing left to give but snark and tears.
“It’s pretty spectacular, isn’t it?”
Looking at him over my shoulder, I smile. “It’s magical.” Turning in a circle to take it all in, I furrow my brow. “But it’s February. People still shop here after the holidays?”
“This is a big tourist town. Not sure the store sells a lot of decorations before October, but tourists always want ornaments of the places they’ve traveled.”
Makes perfect sense to me. I wouldn’t mind finding one myself.
Glancing to my right, I see a mid-size tree that is decorated in a more modern style. Ornaments that are more on the kitschy side draw my attention and I approach the tree. Sitting alone on a branch is a typewriter. Bright turquoise with old fashioned keys, it’s adorable. Plucking it from the tree, Todd takes the piece of perfection and walks toward the counter where an older woman sits with a weathered paperback in her hands
Ignoring what he’s doing, and the sadness in my heart over him swooping in and taking the ornament, I peruse a little more while he makes his purchase. A few minutes later, as I’m bent over looking at a classic Santa’s village, I hear “Ready to blow this pop stand?” and jump straight up, knocking into a display with my flailing arms.
“Didn’t we talk about you sneaking up on me?”
“Hey, let’s be grateful you weren’t trying to karate chop my head again. I’d call this progress. So, you ready to head back to the cabin? Have enough inspiration for the day?”
Steadying my heartbeat, I take a deep breath and nod. Walking ahead of me, Todd opens the door and again waves me forward. As soon as we step out onto the street, I begin walking toward where the car is parked when he reaches for my hand, stopping me in my tracks. Warmth runs from my hand up my arm, but the action has the opposite effect on me and I shiver as I turn to face him.
“A little something to remember your time here,” he says, holding the small bag out to me. I look from the bag to his face. He bought me the typewriter ornament.
Taking the bag from him, I just stand here. In my spot. Not talking.
And he’s walking away.
“Chop chop lady, we’re burning daylight.”
Chapter 14
Todd
I know my car is a beater. I get shit about it from people all the time, but I don’t care. I have no monthly payment, it gets me from points A to B safely, and you can’t beat the gas mileage. Yes, I’ve had to invest in repairs here and there, but for the most part, this finely tuned machine barely counts toward my living expenses.
Plus, it has a kick-ass sound system. I made sure of that when I bought it ten years ago off a guy in town who was tired of it and wanted to unload it for something new. I’m sure he regrets it now, seeing as he’s on his third car including payments since then and I’m still cruising along.
There’s nothing sweeter than rolling with my homies through town, my man JT cryin’ me a river while the bass pounds through the sub-woofer. Or something like that. I don’t really know what a sub-woofer does. The only downside is I have to wear this throwback earpiece to talk hands-free. The sacrifices of winter driving, I look like a schmuck, but I have both hands on the wheel making death much less imminent for mountain driving.
No matter. Donna is enjoying herself and that’s the whole point of this expedition. I can see she’s struggling with some big decisions about her career, and maybe even some personal ones as well. Knowing she’s been relaxing for the last few hours and really enjoying herself has put another notch on my man card, which I’ve needed after all the overly-sensitive emotional talk that’s been going on inside my brain recently. Damn Aggi and her addictive story lines.
Unfortunately for me, between songs my phone alerts me of yet another call.
“Todd, I notice you haven’t touched your food yet.” “I don’t eat meat or fish.” “He’s a homo.”
I look over to see Donna staring at me, one eyebrow cocked.
“What?” I ask, trying to keep my eyes facing forward on the road, her to my right, and my phone resting in the cupholder all at once. It’s a challenge but I’m that good.
“Really? You have that scene from Wedding Crashers as your ringtone?”
“It’s one of my favorite movies,” she says, turning to look out the window. “Owen Wilson and Vince Vaughn are hysterical together.”
“I think I just fell in love,” I mutter, making Donna laugh. How is this woman not in a serious relationship? Are all the pretty boys completely blind? Before my thoughts turn into words that might make her uncomfortable, I tap the button on my earpiece. “Well, hello, Marge.”
She chuckles a throaty sound indicative of two decades of smoking. Marge is proud she quit last year. Pretty sure the Nicorette people were, too, when their stock skyrocketed from all her nicotine gum purchases.
“Hello, boss. What have you been up to lately?”
I glance over at Donna who suddenly has a death grip on the oh-shit handle as she looks back and forth between the road and me as I drive. I give her a quizzical look to which she responds, “Keep your eyes on the road! I don’t want to die!”
Rolling my eyes I turn my attention back to Marge and the road ahead. It’s been a long time since I’ve had a passenger in the winter that isn’t used to the weather. If I didn’t think she’d have a full-blown panic attack, I’d borrow a SUV and take her out on a few roads that aren’t as plowed as ours.
I wouldn’t have answered the call if the roads were even remotely slippery. They aren’t. Cars and trucks coming up and down the mountain along with the bright sun help melt the plowed roads, making it just like any other day for driving. I should probably say something to Donna, explain that just because she’s cold doesn’t mean the roads are icy. Or that death is imminent. I could tell her about whiteouts and taking a turn too fast, spinning out on black ice. But, by the look on her face I don’t think that would do her any good. Also, I’m far too entertained with her right now.
Answering Marge, I say, “Playing tour guide to a scaredy-cat.”
Donna smacks me on the arm, which is a terribly unsafe thing to do when you are afraid of how someone drives, while Marge laughs again. “Must be an out-of-towner. They always freak out when it snows.”
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